Nice day around here yesterday – sunny and warmish. I decided it would be a good opportunity to burn some diesel fuel, so I put in a few hours of tractor time, getting more dirt to smooth out the former frog pond (no doubt filled with the bodies – and ghosts – of the unfortunate previous occupants), and then trying to clear out some more paths in the woods. :kub:

Although I came close (hit the “pucker” limit a time or two), I managed to not roll it over. I suppose I ought to consider wearing the seat belt, but it just doesn’t seem very manly. I’d have actually spent more time out there, but I thought it was later in the day (damn sun is awfully low in the sky this time of year). I’m not a watch person, but I just ordered a relatively cheap, “camping” watch so I’ll know what the hell time it is when I’m out there. I used to have a watch, someplace. It was nice – my parents gave it to me. Hopefully it’ll turn up as soon as the one I ordered arrives.

I also tried to avoid getting shot yesterday, because, sadly, it’s deer season. Yesterday was the opening of what we used to call “shotgun” season (they allow hunters to go out into the woods earlier for bow season, and then there’s also muzzleloader season, which I think is both before and after shotgun season, though I will confess to not being a hunter-type; I prefer looking at animals, not killing them – aside from the frogs that I can only assume lost their lives because my wife made me fill in their pond). Aside from the occasional chicken, I don’t even like eating animals anymore. If somebody would make all my food for me, I would be quite to content to go Vegan.

Bow season doesn’t bother me as much, because it’s more difficult and the arrows only go so far. Shotgun season scares me, because for a lot of people it’s an excuse to start drinking before dawn (the hospitals are full of people who have fallen drunk from their tree stands – which serves them right, in my book). Call me a Commie Liberal if you like, but I just don’t think alcohol and firearms are a good combination.

Drunk stupid people with shotguns are dangerous enough, and as I was outside yesterday hearing them blast away all around me, I kept waiting for a stray slug to hit me or my dogs. When they aren’t passed out in their tree stands, it isn’t unusual for these yahoos to shoot each other (and themselves), which, frankly, I’m OK with. But I personally am not into them shooting my dogs, my tractor (another good reason for that Kubota orange), my wife, my house, or me. Not necessarily in that order, of course. 🙄

Things are far worse this season, however, because – supposedly due to a vast deer overpopulation – the State, in its infinite wisdom, is allowing these bozos to hunt with rifles. Deer slugs go, oh, I dunno maybe 500 – 1,000 yards if they don’t hit something, but a bullet from a high-powered rifle can go a really long way. Like, miles. So when Elmer Fudd gets out there and takes a shot at a branch rusting in a hedgerow a couple of miles away from my backyard, there’s a distinct possibility of it hitting me. But, such is the price you pay for living in the country, I guess.

It’s supposed to be another nice day today, so I reckon I’ll do some more tractoring (once the gunfire dies down). Though I’m starting to feel as if I’m getting the cold that has my wife barking and honking her nose like a circus clown. I really don’t need to get sick.

Thank goodness it’s a short week coming up.