We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
This hunt story from this past winter, in Florida, came in over the transom:
Today, I had something very different happen to me at Burn's field. This morning saw me sitting in my tri-pod, suffering thru 30 deg. temps with a biting NW wind in my face. Sure, some of you have it colder, but, this is Florida!! Right about the time I started to begin a stalk hunt (to warm up), seven does filled the end of the field and I picked out the one safe shot and dropped her in her tracks. The other does ran off, then slowly returned to stay around another 45 min. or so. When the last one started leaving, I began to get down as no Bucks wanted to come out and play. Half-way down the ladder, I looked back into the field and saw my doe jerk!!! By the way, she was only about 120 yds. away, so, to see her move, something bad was going on. At first I thought she had only been stunned with a high spine shot and was starting to get up. Then, I saw another body along side of her and I thought the .270 has shot thru her and hit another deer that was bunched up after all. Then the object I couldn't make out, attacked the doe's head and was all balled up around it.
I quickly climbed back into the shooting chair, re-attached my steady stick, centered the mass outline on the doe's head and squeezed the trigger. Puff of hair, no movement. After getting down and easing over to the doe, attached you will see the huge male bobcat that was trying to kill my dead doe. He died instantly by my .270 injection, so quick in fact, he still had the death grip on the doe's neck. I've never seen or heard of something like this in my life. Even when I loaded the doe up on my carrier, the bobcat was still attached to her neck. While I didn't weigh the bobcat, the doe was in the 120 to 130 lb. range. You can see how the bobcat was almost as long as she is.
I slay and eat a few squirrels on occasion. I don't kill anything unless I am going to eat it, except for the rare marauding, destructive pest. On the other hand, it is better to shoot a deer and let the varmits eat it than for it to die of starvation and deprivation due to loss of habitat taken by humans.