Peace of mind, only $1.49 at the hardware store

Had my first face-to-face encounter with 2 trespassers recently.


My general rule during hunting season is: never argue with hunters. This rule emerged from a common sense approach to managing the land. I’m never armed when I walk the property and I have no idea as to the state of mind of the hunters who are on my land. (Have they been drinking? Arguing with anyone? Do they have something to prove?)
Mostly I’m not opposed to hunting. Just do it on your own land or on land where you’ve got a permit to shoot: elk, caribou, mule deer, and whatnot.
I seriously doubt you'd be thrilled if I showed up at your house, uninvited, and started poking around in your backyard. Now picture me driving into your driveway, emerging from my car with a gun, and then I start poking around your backyard looking to kill something. Trust me: you’re hackles would be up at that point.



It was a Saturday and I’d been in town running errands (hardware store, the library, grocery store, etc) and I was in a good mood when I passed this one stretch of my land where there used to be a gate and an overgrown skid road but owing to a recent thinning by the state, the old skid trail is as clean as a whistle. I noted two large pickup trucks parked. It served to reason that the hunters were somewhere nearby, hunting. And that’s when it happened. A little blast of adrenaline. Snap. And I was done with hunters on my land. I raced to the house and grabbed a hammer, nails, a no trespassing sign, and an orange safety vest.
I rushed back to gate. A small anount of anger coursed through my veins but I vowed to hang the sign and get the heck out of there. The plan was to pin the No Trespassing sign on the tree right near the trucks so that when the hunters returned they couldn’t miss it. (And in the future anyone with any bright ideas wouldn’t be able to miss the sign either.)

As I approached the trucks, gulp, the hunters were seated on a felled tree, shooting the sh*t. (No bullets required to shoot the sh*t.) Their rifles rested at their sides.

“Be cool,” I told myself and knew that I couldn’t turn back. They'd seen me and I'd seen them. I was definitely going to be saying something but I wasn't going to "have words with them." There was a bit of a nip in the air but I din't feel it. At all. I was warm all over and there was a buzz in my body (sort of like a runners high). I know that I have a temper. Just hang the sign and head home, I reminded myself. Say as little as possible.

The two dudes, somewhere in their mid-50s, approached me. Their orange hats and vests contrasted against their camo and the scenery.


“Whatcha doin’?” one of them inquired.

(It was kind of obvious: the hammer, nails, and sign were unmistakable.)
“Hanging a sign,” I said and noticed my blood pressure go through the roof.

I pounded the first nail into the tree. It broke. I hadn’t realized it was a maple tree and the adrenaline was f*cking up my coordination.

“We came in over on [redacted],” the talkative one says.

As if his entry onto my land two miles from where we stood meant had anything to do with anything.

I replied, “There’s 175 acres between here and there. And you’re on private property.”

He asked, “Who owns the property?”

“I do,” I replied.

His eyes go big with surprise. “Oh.”

At this point I broke another nail and pounded the hammer against my thumb. (Holy sh*t that hurts!). Inside I did my best to control my temper. And the only response I had to anything he said, was to remind him that he was on private property. He made one other inanane comment. I avoided eye contact. I knew that if I turned my attention from the task at hand I could blow up. I got two nails into the sign, another one was all bent up and I could tell they were thinking I should never do any carperntry.

As I turned and walked away I made eye contact with each of them -- once. And they wore the most bewildered expressions.

As far as I was concerned they’d been put on notice and as adults they could chose to remain on my land, in violation of state law, or they could get the H*ll off my land and go poach somewhere else.

As I got back into the car and drove home the pain in my thumb screamed. And I noticed that my hands were shaking. But I’d kept my promise to myself and hadn’t argued with them.

The next day I put the gate back up and this past weekend I noticed there weren’t any trucks parked on my land. For the first time in years I didn’t hear the report of rifles being fired and didn’t fear a stray bullet entering the living room and killing me. They really do hunt that close to the house.

Who knew a No Trespassing sign, at $1.49, could bring such peace of mind?

No good deed goes unpunished (especially if you’re clocked doing 70 in a 55 mile per hour zone)

Late Friday I learned that someone was needed to get dressed in the Bad Kitty costume for an event at Books of Wonder on Sunday afternoon. I leapt at the chance. Seriously. Being dressed as Bad Kitty is the closest I come to being treated like a rock star. And kids are so much cooler than adults in this type of setting. It won’t be long until they decide to follow the pattern of their parents and become jaded New Yorkers. In the meantime, there is room for fun and joy. And picture books!


Unless I wanted to get up while it was still dark and drive the speed limit from the country to the city (something I have yet to do on both counts), I had to hold steady at 70 m.p.h. (which is something I can do in my sleep) and I’d get to the city in time to grab a snack and suit up. Thirty miles from the city I was surprised to look in my rearview mirror and see a motorcycle cop with his lights flashing. I pulled into the right lane and so did he. This is when I started laughing. I was getting pulled over. I had no idea how fast I'd been driving but I figured people got pulled over for going 80 or 90. And I was doing neither. Was this about something as pedestrian as 70?
I was all smiles and chatted affably with the officer.

“Why were you going so fast?” he asked.
“Bad habit, good mood, and I’m in a rush." I replied
“Where are you headed?”
“New York City.”


I asked, “Just out of curiosity, how fast was I going?”
He answered, “All of 70 when you flew by me like I was standing still.”

He headed to his bike with my license and registration.

I kept chuckling as I straightened up the interior of my car. I was about to get fined in the neighborhood of $150.00 on a lovely Sunday morning as I headed into the city to be Bad Kitty. (I’m sure Bad Kitty, when she becomes a teenager will be joyriding. I know I did my fair share of that as a teen.) There was nothing to do in this situation but laugh and I’ll try to keep that in mind when I get points on my license and my insurance goes up.

“And how was it being Bad Kitty?” you ask.

It was the star turn it always is. No pain -- all gain.

Midway through the reading of A Bad Kitty Christmas, Nick Bruel announced, “The part of the grandmother will be read by singer and actress Vanessa Williams.” (Say wha?) And Nick held the microphone up to his Mac computer and sure enough, via mp3, Vanessa Williams read Granny.
And Thank G*d that one of my dear Aunts always hits me up with a C-note at Christmas time so at least I’ve got the fine for the traffic violation covered.

Bantam Rooster Found

After an earlier incident in the rural town where I live, when an over-zealous sheriff shot a neighbor's pet as it ran away from him, killing the pet, an Action Alert Group, interested in safe guarding local pets was created. (Please excuse that run-on sentence...) BTW: the sheriff was a total d*ck. This dog had a collar and was super goofy and clearly not posing a threat to the officer or the community. But the cop had to go and get a rifle and shoot the dog dead.

The Action Alert Group sends out emails whenever a dog or cat is found or reported missing/lost. At least once a week a cat or dog goes on the lam.

And I don't want to be mean: but how do you lose a dog on a walk? I get that it's the country and a person might want to let his or her dog off the leash as owner and pet amble along a country road at sunset. Nice and romantic, right? Not if the dog doesn't come when you call it and ends up spending the night in the wilds (not where domestic pets belong) running from bears/coyotes/mountain lions or worse, shot dead the next day by the po-lice.

Today's alert is a classic.
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Bantam Rooster Found

Friday, Dec. 2, 2011

If you or anyone you know is missing a rooster:
A rooster has taken up with [redacted] flock on [redacted]
White bantam rooster with leg feathers.
A silver bracelet tag.

[redacted] will read the bracelet tonight when they roost.

Please forward this to anyone you think might be interested or helpful in getting this boy home.
 
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If I were that rooster and I'd taken up with a new flock, given that the new flock had a couple of cuties in it, I might be perfectly happy not to be found. I can't wait to learn who "lost" this bad boy. I might pop over to visit his new haunt to see how he's doing.