Muley
Cruisin' Guzzisti
There I was, trying to have a little peace and quiet and catch up on Guzzi happenings, browsing two forums and occasionally checking e-mail, basically getting ready to retire for the night, and I heard an immediately recognizable furor outside. It was a cat fight:angry: Our former tom cat was lightened about two gonad’s worth in his younger days, and, even though he still has claws, he is lacking an essential fighting hormone. In other words, his ass gets whipped real good, and a vet bill is sometimes the result. Let me just say that I am not a cat person and only allow the beast because my wife likes the critters.
But let me back up just a bit and explain what has been going on nearly every night since it warmed up. Todd and Mike secretly sowed a crop of Texas armadillos up here in Georgia, and they have been fruitful and multiplied. Our pack of dogs (four plus 12 new puppies) cannot seem to catch and dispose of these pests, but they can wake the dead with their barking. Now the wife who likes cats also loves her yard and flower gardens. Let’s just say that one armadillo can cause a tremendous amount of destruction overnight, and the yard looks like it was shot up with a 50 cal. machinegun. Armadillos are expert at digging holes and moving stuff around also. A couple of months ago, one had undermined a 250 gallon propane tank to the point that it collapsed into the burrow and only the copper gas line kept it from rolling out into the yard. I fixed the tank situation and loaded up my 12 ga. to its unplugged max of five shells. I can’t be sure I eliminated the devil responsible for the gas tank vandalism, but there was one less “possum on the half shell” at dawn’s early light. I impaled him on a steel rebar just to ward off others moving in to fill the niche he so suddenly vacated, but the yard-loving wife quickly removed the carcass and spoiled my Vlad The Impaler act. Ah, peace and quiet for a few weeks.
Those of you who have studied ecology know that many creatures have territories and when one vacates that territory another one moves in to fill the niche. Armadillos are not beasts to go against the laws of nature, so that for every one you take out, another moves in. Sure enough, just last week when the moon was about half full, I went on a midnight patrol to see what had been rooting up the yard again, and here came the little armored piece of arrogance. Trying to hold a flashlight, shoulder and aim a shotgun, and get barrel and light to line up is problematic at best. I got off one round and rolled him, but he recovered and headed into the yard toward an outbuilding. One of the challenges of yard warfare is to avoid collateral damage to dogs, friendly cats, vehicles and buildings. As he escaped under a building I wisely ceased fire to avoid taking out our well house and Jack Russell terrier who was in hot pursuit. Armadillo 1, Muley 0.
Night before last, another beautiful and clear night with good moon light, the dogs announced an intruder and I got out just in time to see the terrier chase another one under the same building. No time to shoot safely.
Tonight, as I was enjoyed quality Guzzi time at the keyboard, the dog racket started up. Rerun of the other night as the Jack Russell chased one again. OK, fine sez I, I’ll lay the scattergun aside and get out the SKS carbine, outfitted with red/green dot sight and ten round magazine. Again, it is not easy to make the light, this time a headlamp and the gun sights line up at the proper distance.
Back to the cat fight tonight. I stepped out on the back deck, second floor with locked and loaded rifle this time, and, crouched behind a brick wall around our patio was the cat bully. Who thinks cats don’t have nine lives? I froze him with the light in his eyes, put the red dot on his chest and squeezed off a hollowpoint. Pieces of brick flew everywhere as I took the top third of a top brick off the patio wall. Meanwhile the feline felon made his escape into the woods beside the house. Thinking I might have wounded him, and always following up on questionable shots, I traded the rifle for the shotgun again, donned my headlamp and crocs and went outside to finish this. Finally, my light reflected off cat eyes across the highway in the tall grass. In frustration, I peppered the suspect knowing it wouldn’t be lethal – just say it was a warning to stay the hell away from my deballed tom.
Final score Armadillos 2, cat 1, and Muley 1 (unless you count the one I killed with a shovel week before last). If so, then I’m batting almost 500.
All's quiet on the western front at the moment, and I'll try to check out the forums and e-mails again, but both guns are still loaded, and I'm spoiling for another fight.
But let me back up just a bit and explain what has been going on nearly every night since it warmed up. Todd and Mike secretly sowed a crop of Texas armadillos up here in Georgia, and they have been fruitful and multiplied. Our pack of dogs (four plus 12 new puppies) cannot seem to catch and dispose of these pests, but they can wake the dead with their barking. Now the wife who likes cats also loves her yard and flower gardens. Let’s just say that one armadillo can cause a tremendous amount of destruction overnight, and the yard looks like it was shot up with a 50 cal. machinegun. Armadillos are expert at digging holes and moving stuff around also. A couple of months ago, one had undermined a 250 gallon propane tank to the point that it collapsed into the burrow and only the copper gas line kept it from rolling out into the yard. I fixed the tank situation and loaded up my 12 ga. to its unplugged max of five shells. I can’t be sure I eliminated the devil responsible for the gas tank vandalism, but there was one less “possum on the half shell” at dawn’s early light. I impaled him on a steel rebar just to ward off others moving in to fill the niche he so suddenly vacated, but the yard-loving wife quickly removed the carcass and spoiled my Vlad The Impaler act. Ah, peace and quiet for a few weeks.
Those of you who have studied ecology know that many creatures have territories and when one vacates that territory another one moves in to fill the niche. Armadillos are not beasts to go against the laws of nature, so that for every one you take out, another moves in. Sure enough, just last week when the moon was about half full, I went on a midnight patrol to see what had been rooting up the yard again, and here came the little armored piece of arrogance. Trying to hold a flashlight, shoulder and aim a shotgun, and get barrel and light to line up is problematic at best. I got off one round and rolled him, but he recovered and headed into the yard toward an outbuilding. One of the challenges of yard warfare is to avoid collateral damage to dogs, friendly cats, vehicles and buildings. As he escaped under a building I wisely ceased fire to avoid taking out our well house and Jack Russell terrier who was in hot pursuit. Armadillo 1, Muley 0.
Night before last, another beautiful and clear night with good moon light, the dogs announced an intruder and I got out just in time to see the terrier chase another one under the same building. No time to shoot safely.
Tonight, as I was enjoyed quality Guzzi time at the keyboard, the dog racket started up. Rerun of the other night as the Jack Russell chased one again. OK, fine sez I, I’ll lay the scattergun aside and get out the SKS carbine, outfitted with red/green dot sight and ten round magazine. Again, it is not easy to make the light, this time a headlamp and the gun sights line up at the proper distance.
Back to the cat fight tonight. I stepped out on the back deck, second floor with locked and loaded rifle this time, and, crouched behind a brick wall around our patio was the cat bully. Who thinks cats don’t have nine lives? I froze him with the light in his eyes, put the red dot on his chest and squeezed off a hollowpoint. Pieces of brick flew everywhere as I took the top third of a top brick off the patio wall. Meanwhile the feline felon made his escape into the woods beside the house. Thinking I might have wounded him, and always following up on questionable shots, I traded the rifle for the shotgun again, donned my headlamp and crocs and went outside to finish this. Finally, my light reflected off cat eyes across the highway in the tall grass. In frustration, I peppered the suspect knowing it wouldn’t be lethal – just say it was a warning to stay the hell away from my deballed tom.
Final score Armadillos 2, cat 1, and Muley 1 (unless you count the one I killed with a shovel week before last). If so, then I’m batting almost 500.
All's quiet on the western front at the moment, and I'll try to check out the forums and e-mails again, but both guns are still loaded, and I'm spoiling for another fight.