Charlyn’s Web

As you may know from a previous post, we’re not exactly on good speaking terms with the pheasants that are ravaging our garden. In fact, I resorted to borrowing a certain loud “dissuader” from a friend of mine. The tool makes a loud noise when discharged, propels small metal pellets rapidly through the air, and its name rhymes with “not fun.”

Except that it is. Particularly when you’ve just caught the perpetrators in their wanton act of criminal destruction, they’ve attempted to make their rapid getaway, a loud bang resounds, and one of them suddenly drops from view into the 10′ high scotch thistle patch in the corner of a neighboring field. I’ll admit that this doesn’t happen very often. I’m a newbie with this instrument, having grown up with rifles and pistols instead. Although I’m learning, my percentage is rather dismal.

Of course, all three children insist on being involved with the patrol efforts, but it rather surprised me when KJ wanted to examine one of the corpses, and was not in the least fazed by the blood-stained body of the feathered felon.

So, we were late on our way to an evening service at church, and not letting any grass grow under the tires of our van, when about a mile or so up the road, a close relative of one of our garden gangsters ran out in front of the vehicle. It was pretty close anyway, and as we were in quite a hurry, I didn’t make any effort to take evasive action. There was a thud down low, a body and feathers flew up through the air, and it was all over.

“What was that?” came the queries from the back seat.

A pheasant.

“Good job, Papa!” the cheery, encouraging voice of KJ replied.

I guess when you’re as bad a shot as I am, you need all the encouragement you can get.