One of the nice things about living on the water is the wildlife you get to see. I find the sound of seagulls soothing. I love to see the swans swimming in the morning and the little duckies feeding just out from our dock.
It's all very calming.
Until you hear the BLAM of the hunters gun, that is, as was the case this very morning.
Where our dock sits happens to be in this little alcove where the water is lower. Apparently this makes my dock and the neighbor's dock ideal cover for hunters to prey upon little Donald until they can blow his head off.
We go through this every duck season.
The first season?
I ambled out to my dock and lit off fire crackers to scare the ducks away until the hunters were annoyed enough to leave.
The second season?
The neighbor got to them before us.
This season?
Well, I'm just done.
Look, I don't mind people hunting. I don't like it. I don't agree with it (I BARELY eat meat), but I have no problem with you doing it. Just not in a place where I have to experience it (BLAM-BLAM-BLAM) and my 10 month old can sit at the window and watch the duckie carnage.
So today, I was fed up and took things into my own hands. And by taking things into my own hands I, of course, mean that I had my husband call the sheriff and ask the guys to move (there is some LAW about how close you can shoot to a house and a highly traveled road, RIGHT)?!? It should've ended there, but no. The next thing I know? Hunter man is knocking on my door. After a quick conversation on the porch, my husband comes back in and says, "He was very nice."
Huh.
I shoot him a knowing glare.
(He's WAY WAY nicer than me).
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