🚀 go-pugleaf

------------------------- Original Article -------------------------
In article <JQD=ml-@engin.umich.edu> lowrie@eddy.engin.umich.edu (Robert Byron
Lowrie) writes:
  [ discussion of recent event in which jogger is shot by hunter ]

>To prevent this from occurring again, we shouldn't worry so much about
>punishing Mr. Cook, but instead concentrate on keeping the general
>public away from hunting areas.  If this means there should be less
>hunting areas, so be it.  I can't imagine being in an area where my
>life is in so many other people's hands.  In other words, let hunters
>shoot each other, but not me (: Unfortunately, an argument I often
>here is that much of the money used to set aside public lands comes
>from hunters (through license fees, taxes, ...), although I find this
>hard to believe.

This brings back memories of a training "incident" I had a couple
years ago in Central New Jersey.  I was doing hill work (on my
bicycle.. forgive my mis-posting, please) and heard shotgun blasts
off to my left.  Since they were pretty constant, I assumed they
were shooting clay pigeons.  No problem (although they were in an
area where that is not allowed), since I have "killed" a few of the
ceramic critters myownself.  When I heard the pellets screaming
through the trees over my head, my mood changed!  *HEY, &*#@!!, CUT
IT OUT*... followed by a couple minutes of silence.  I figured that
they realized they were shooting over a road, so I went on doing
the (short but steep) hill circuit.  A couple laps later, I heard
a blast, and *knew* this one was going to be close... I just had
time to turn my head when several of the pellets hit my thigh and
torso. No blood... but something about being shot does funny things
to your (already pumped) hormone levels.... I charged up the hill
in a time that was probably a PR (past my bewildered wife, who had
no idea what was happening), threw down my bike (a sure sign my
mind had checked out) helmet and shoes, and charged into the woods
in my socks and cute tight little spandex outfit.  Running into the
opening, I encountered three *big* guys (smallest about 200lbs.)
with two shotguns.  Normally, several instantaneous adjustments to
the old attitude would be in order, but I was positively drenched
in testosterone!  I don't remember what I said exactly, but I got
in their faces and ordered them out of the woods and made some real
rude comments about their lineage.  My wife, having arrived at the
top of the hill, figured out what was happening, and broke into the
shooter's truck and read the registration so she would know who
it was that was about to kill her (idiot) husband.  Luckily, this
wasn't necessary.... I figure the same principle kept that allows
a wolverine to stand off a grizzly bear must have come into play
since they didn't shoot me or tie me in a knot... basically just
stood there with this incredulous look on their faces mumbling
something like "sorry.... didn't know..... you OK?"

Once I charged back out of the woods, and back down the hill to
my wife... I summed up the whole experience..."That *had* to be
the stupidest thing I *ever* did!"... 'course, on the next lap,
their pickup (how did you guess they were in a pickup?) was
gone, and I never saw it back there again.

I just hope the incident produced three "shooters" who learned to
be a lot more careful about where they shoot.  I know lots of
hunters, and none of them would not fire on a target without a
clean "kill" shot, much less one they hadn't positively identified.

I guess it's kinda like riding or running on the road... you are
absolutely safe from 99.9% of the drivers... but that .1% weenie
is always out there somewhere.... so be careful out there!

Mark (the perfect bi is a 1/50/1) Hickey