Is this what I think it is? I took this photo tonight. And I swear I have never seen this hole in the glass before! Is this from a gun? A rifle?.
Hmm. It is pheasant shooting season.
TonTon and I had words with hunters coming too close to my house today in their camouflage gear and their fluorescent vests. I ran down to the creek and intercepted them. There were two of them, armed with rifles and two dogs. I say please do not shoot so close to my barn, I have pregnant animals. You are shooting at My birds. Startling my sheep. This is My home. I would be grateful if you would take your guns elsewhere. This is private property.
I am angry. They scare me. I lick my lips and the moisture freezes. I resist the need to wipe my mouth with my fingers.
They are stolid and playing stupid with sly looks. They look bemused. What did she say? A foreigner! Did you get that? Did you know one of Them lived out here? They look at each other and back at me. My heart is beating so loudly I am surprised my chest is not moving in and out with the rhythm. The Big One spits tobacco to the side, missing my boot. I do not move. He shifts his rifle. I leave my sunglasses on but wish I was not wearing my silly hat with the Pom Poms. I am furious and these Pom Poms sway with the whip of my head. But I will not take the Pom Pom hat off either. I will not shift. I forget to breathe. I stand, motioning TonTon: In. He looks back. He would rather stand in front of me. GET IN. I say. He sits. Still in front of me. He will only go that far.
The men look at each other and shrug their shoulders. Their faces are florid and blinky. They look back at me. I am suddenly aware that I am out here in the middle of nowhere, alone, except for a small sheepdog in a fury. These men have guns. Loaded. I wait. My shoulders back, feet in grubby green gumboots solid. I will not swallow. Ton growls. Low. Daisy calls from the barn. I am glad my hands are in my pockets.
Then they nod, grunt, turn and move on, guns on their shoulders, barrels pointing back at me. Their dogs range, barrel chested, hungry. TonTon hates them all with an unusual passion. He quivers at Sit unable to control his bark. Desperate to race after them and have his say. I say Down and he hurls himself furiously at my feet and glares still, visually spitting, growling up at the men as they leave, his head down and sideways. The BigDog is so scared he has hidden. The men with Guns terrify him. I watch them walk.
Get In. I say to TonTon as I turn my back on their barrels. He is reluctant . Get in Behind! I growl louder. I am angry. I bite my thumb at them. I swear quite nastily. Dog leaps to my heel. He is Looking back as he walks forward. Lets put the sheep in. I say.
This is better. 
c
The Kitchen's Garden 
100 responses to “Sinister is the wrong word maybe flat out scary”
Oh Celi, what a way to start your day! I hope both you and TonTon have recovered from your ordeal.
I find the shooters attitude to you as a landholder deplorable.
The last duck season a female teal who used to visit regularly arrived one morning covered in blood and missing a leg up to her wing; she has recovered from her injury and returns most days to feed in my dam.
Oh Elaine, i can imagine your horror, and how lovely that you were able to save her. They WILL fly out of the safe zone! i am going to put up better sign for next year, but as you can imagine No Shooting signs are hard to find around here.. c
You are one very brave lady. We had quite a shock when we first moved to France 20 years ago, to discover that hunters seem to do as they please here (despite notices and laws prohibiting them shooting nearer than 50 metres from a dwelling) and lost a cat to them. Some will shoot cats because they too hunt ‘game’. There are many fatal accidents at the start of the season, and we don’t go ‘off road’ when the hunters are about.
Now that IS scary. Horrible to shoot your cat. Do they have seasons or do they shoot whenever they like? c
seasons, and you have to look for the dates on the Mairie notice-board.
Good for you Celi. They must have be taken by surprise because on woman with a small obedient dog was so authoritative. I hope they hesitated just because they were embarrassed and had to appear to be nonplussed by a mere woman.
First they hesitated because i was calling out loudly and beckoning them as though they were naughty kids right across the field in a playground as i walked towards them. Then the accent does get them because they have to focus to work out what i am saying. We made a few calls and I hope it does not happen again.. c
Good on you,nothing wrong with hunting in iteslf, but they need to respect property, was rule no 1 when I went shooting, respect property, animals and people (not necessarily in that order).
Cheers
Marcus
Of course. hunting for food keeps some families fed around here. Just not beside my barn and on my property.. There is plenty of open space on wither side for them.. c
I agree it was something small like a bb. I also wonder – if they were hunting out of season and on private property, then they were likely amused at your lack of knowledge about the law and put that down to ‘she ain’t from around here.’
Hmm, that is a good point. They were right too! c
Please be careful, Celi. These 2 weren’t responsible hunters and could very easily have been drunk. Dad was a hunter and ALWAYS asked the owners of the land before releasing the dog. Post No Hunting/Trespassing signs and call the Sheriff’s Dept when and if they come back. And please be careful, Celi!
Alcohol was definitely a factor and I thought about that after, when the scent of them focussed in my brain. But they did wander off and did not come back. I had to speak to them though. They needed to know and maybe spread the word! c
TonTon! He’s such an obedient one! Is there a picture I can see? Please?
I have fresh respect for you, Cecilia. If I imagine myself in my situation, I’d have got my gun out (if I had any) or bludgeoned these people with my fists (arrgh. We all know the most probable result of that, now, don’t we?)
My father used to hunt — as a boy and as an adult. When he was out on military exercises in the deserts of Rajasthan, they somehow found enough time to find spotted deer and chinkaras. He sent their skins and pickled meat back home. I remember watching spotted deer on television. I hadn’t known how they looked like until that moment (must’ve been 6 or 7, I think). In my next letter to him, I asked him how he could kill something so beautiful for meat, skin and game. I am thankful my question’s answer was his giving up hunting. It’s a matter of how you wish to see things, I guess. When he looks back now, he asks himself the same questions — How could he have found pleasure in this sport?
To eat. This is the only reason to hunt in my opinion. For sport shoot with your camera! Out of interest though do you know how he pickled the meat?.. c
Not really. But I could ask and let you know.
Great story, but alas, it’s not just a story. It really happened. You were GREAT! Brave! Beautiful! Power to the PomPom!!
If I make up a story i will tell you. And as usual I did not feel brave, just angry that they were frightening us and of course i was out there shouting before I realised I had decided to! I think brave is when you think about doing something and overcome your fear to do it. c
I fell out with my sister for several years over the subject of guns. She and her husband, they live in Washington state, used to hunt game and birds for sport. They have dozens of rifles and pistols and automatic this and thats. I don’t agree with their use, and I don’t want the darned things around me ever. Your experience just reinforces my views on the subject.
I feel the same. But that gun thing is BIG here. c
Sounds like you live in “Deliverance” land. I thought “rednecks” only lived in the backwoods of certain states – they appear to be multiplying and migrating. That’s a scary story.
I am in the midwest. John calls it the Wild Wild West. Isolation and TV can do that to a person! Deliverance was a terrifying movie!! c
Good on you Celi! Glad you were brave to stand your ground! Best they not come back your way!
Urgh!!!
🙂 Mandy
I would have been shaking and in much need of a calming tequila or six!
Call the sheriff and report it so if they come back, the law will take it as a serious threat because of the way they treated you. I haven’t gone pheasant hunting since I was 10 years old, but I think you are supposed to shoot birds up in the air, not at window level, so they may have shot at your building on purpose. Check the outside of the building below the window for damage as I’m thinking they may have used “birdshot” which is a shotgun shell full of BB’s that would spray out in a circular pattern. It seems odd that just one BB would hit your window, unless they aimed below the window and one BB in the outer ring of the spray pattern hit the glass. Hopefully, they won’t come back, but if they do… consider them armed and dangerous, call the law and let the sheriff deal with them. Be safe!
Sinister and scary C. And like someone else mentioned – these are not responsbile hunters. We´ve had similar things happen here. One I was in the garden and found a hail of air gun pellets falling down on me (we called the Guardia Civil for that one and they took it very seriously) and another time an arrow embedded itself in my pile of canes as I was picking beans! Both times the perpetrators were young and drunk – most people are sober and responsbile as I am sure they are around you. It´s just those couple of crazy folk you have to watch out for. Be careful chick!
This is fearful… I hate all guns… I hope you tell the authorities and not to allow in your area… This is so dangerous… Be in safe, dear Cecilia, with my love, nia