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”
What a start to the day! You expressed and described the anger, incomprehension, idiocy and your pom-pom hat superbly.
I’ve been reading all the comments, what else to add, except a hug for you and TonTon, or maybe a tot of your homebew 🙂
A Tot! A Hot Toddie Tot! c
Oh yeah, you could take away their Bibles before you take away their guns. And while most are respectful of other people’s property, not all are. I’m glad it all ended well, but please don’t ever do that again!
Ok Rumpy. I will think before I leap next time!! promise! c
You’re a tough gal Cecilia – but please do be careful! Can you not post signs to alert hunters of “no hunting” area or whatever so they are aware? Hopefully hunters are considerate in their “sport”.
I don’t think they meant any harm, the hole in the window was surely from a stray pellet. c
My uncles – all in the mountains in North Arkansas – have problems every year, too. During the season, the gates on the road are locked with a chain, and every fence post and border tree is marked with the appropriate color of paint to indicate ‘Posted! No Hunting!’ There’s always at least one incident, though, and they’ve each lost cattle over the years.
Does your fence go all the way around? or are there gaps?
No the fences are only around the paddocks ,otherwise there are no fences at all. Hairy is a Dorset on a very good diet so he has a lovely fleece, but I do not have a spinning wheel. So I bag the fleeces and wait. One day i may come across someone who wants a fleece! When I go to NZ next i shall buy a wheel. They are way too expensive over here.. Mama’s fleece is too coarse so hers is made into dog mattresses! c
Oh no. People really need to be careful and not be so flip when someone tells them they’re not in the right area. Glad the bullet stayed in the glass.
I hope that is the end of it greg. it is the end of pheasant season too so I will be ready for them next year with signs! c
This is scary and hunting is scary. Around these parts, the hunters are supposed to not only stay within defined areas, but can only hunt at certain times of day on certain days, and there are many different hunting seasons. I don’t know if that’s the case where you live since it’s more open country there, but I’d sure find out and post accordingly. Regardless…do be careful, and I’m so glad you had trusty TonTon with you.
There are hunting seasons here too, i need to make a note of the rules c
Way to defend your property C!
Thanks jed.. done without thinking really.. c
Yes but your non-thinking assertiveness probably caught them off guard and resulted in a win for you. 😉
Really good telling of this story. And yes, that appears to be a rifle bullet hole – small caliber, by the look of it. Scary is right.
I had several such confrontations when living alone on a sixty-acre parcel in the Maine woods. Hunters would come, dressed as you described, and I would have to puff my little twenty-something year-old self up, using every four-letter word at my disposal, to demand they get OFF my private property. POSTED private property. I was 1/2 mile down a narrow bony dirt road, to boot. Once down, many could not get out if there was enough snow.
I remember one time coming home from work in the summertime and a fisherman had parked right in my small yard (!) and gone down to the lake fishing. The nerve of people! I took a frying pan and tried to break his windshield – discovered much later that it needed a SHARP object to shatter it.
My feeling in retrospect is that these experiences built character in my extremely sensitive soul. Not saying I would have wished it to happen in the way it did.
I feel for you, sister.
I got really worried about you as i read your story and am really relieved to hear you are ok. I had a wild pheasant visit my garden last week and while I took great joy in spying on it, I forgot the fact that it’s hunting season and that hunters are out. Difference us there aren’t hunters around as I believe they are only limited places they can shoot! I’m glad you’re ok and think you’re really brave for standing your ground. They’re really shouldn’t have been so close to your farm!
No they should not have, but I was probably more stupid than brave!!! TonTon was brave .. he knew the consequences!! c
Celi,
I was shaking while I read you story. Just the thought of you out in the woods, facing those two big, soused hunters is enough to cause nightmares lasting weeks.
I love Ton Ton, that sweet and brave protector who had such a hard time drawing himself back from protecting you.
Ronnie
Out on the plains.. no woods around here, all prairie. But all is well that ends well. I did not mean to worry you.. TonTon is a good dog and it has been mooted that i train Hairy as an Attack Ram! c
After reading through the responses, I can’t believe the number of people who are knowledgeable about bullet holes! You were very brave and I’m so happy that TonTon stood his ground to stay by your side and protect you. Be careful out there! Perhaps next time you should greet them with a shotgun of your own?
I know April. But I do not want a gun. Violence breeds violence. It is about the only thing I really know for sure. In the end they were happy to wander off because I smiled and said Not Here. And they did accept it.. I am fairly sure.. c
Brave Celi! You did good and your dog too for not freaking out and doing as he was bidden. What a day. Makes you think about all sorts of things a story like that, I can see it from the responses you have got. I know very little about bullet holes and this whole thing is way out of my experience, not being a country girl in any shape or form. Gosh you are so very very brave… xx J
not so brave..and yes it does make you think all sorts of things.. c
What a story! If it is any consolation, they probably thought you were very clever, if a bit eccentric, with the pompom hat, Most Americans give folks with British accents loads of extra IQ points. Never mind that you’re a Kiwi; they rarely know the difference!
Often i am asked if i am Australian!! just imagine the horror on my face! c
They may be guys with guns, but not true sportsmen who would never shoot towards any dwelling, barn, or buildings. Put up signs that say “Posted – No Hunting”. And have a chat with the local Sherriff/ law enforcement to let them know you have trespassers and show them the bullet hole. Insist they drive along nearby roads periodically. ( It is illegal to hunt on other’s property without permission – but you need to multiple post signs along your property line.) Talk with county agent fo additional ideas. Take your camera/phone and take pictures of the men – the locals will be able to identify them. Get a loud horn like boaters use. Give a blast when you see hunters so they know you see them. This makes me so mad. We used to have to stop hunters / dogs during hunting season on our property when I was growing up. Gives hunting a bad name. Sorry you had to have this happen. It’s dangerous, stupid gun guys…just bullies
The idea of a big horn blasting is fantastic, I will get my Dad to look out for one in NZ! c
It must have been a terrifying experience. But I can see that, as in the past, you knew how to face it with great character and elegance (even with the hat). I admire you 🙂
Be careful!
Thanks giovanna, I used to teach in a very tough school so I think that helped! c