Gunpowder, swallows, and allergies.
Dove hunting, Round Three.The Fearsome Foursome of Dad, the G-man, Jar and myself went after those little gray bastards this morning. First order of business was dragging my dead ass out of bed since we were meeting at 6:45. Originally, I set my alarm for 6:15 but thanks to quick fingers, I hit the snooze button without fully being aware of my actions. If that excuse would only work in other situations...but I digress.
First order of business was to take allergy medicince because it's my favorite time of year. I've been chomping that stuff down like candy. Now that it's finally dried out a little, I'd put Sneezy to shame with the amout of sneezes I'm firing off. I hate late summer. I do. If you touch ragweed, it bursts into a yellow cloud.
The reactivity of this cloud on most people is just a fine dusting that people brush off. For me, it's like handing a chunk of Kryptonite to Superman. My eyes water, puff up, my nose runs like a leaky faucet, my lungs seem to fill up with cotton and it seems like I'm breathing through a blanket. Not only am I fighting with ragweed, but it seems that other weeds are shooting pollen off too.
The second order of business was to put on bug spray. Normally, I'm not really bothered by mosquitoes but sweetbabyjesuswithacowlick, it's been flat awful. They were just attacking the PLASTIC bucket I was perched on during the dove hunts. When these little buzzing bastards are attacking plastic, you know you've got a skeeter problem. On Wednesday morning, I'm pretty sure I was bit so many times that I contracted West Nile, along with the lesser known forms, East Nile, South Nile and North Nile. This morning, I nearly took a bug spray bath before we ever hit the fields. It actually worked enough to keep the mosquitos at bay.
Finally we hit the fields out west of town. All four of us spent the morning blasting at air or so it seemed. Except for the first "dove" of the day which turned out to be a barn swallow that was flying awfully dovishly if you ask me. I blasted the crap out of it. When I found it I was more than a little shocked when I realized that it wasn't a dove but an actual songbird. What's more funny about it is the fact that DAD DID THE SAME THING.
The G-man was a complete rookie to the sport. We had shot our final shots and I was speculating if ground to the east would hold as many doves. I said something to the effect of "These western doves are hard to hit. We could probably hit more of the eastern doves." The G-man looked at me and said "Oh is there a difference?" "Absolutley," I said without missing a beat. "Eastern doves are shot out at the east spot. Since were out west of town, all the doves out here are western doves." Jar busted out laughing because I got the G-man to bite so bad.
I ended up shooting 6 this morning.
Anyways, I'm gonna go dig up some more of the 24 hour stuff so I can sleep.
posted by Rusty @ 9:54 PM
Comments: 1
