Raven

[den]

I have just had to euthanase a raven because some bugger decided it would look better with a bullet hole in its side.

Comments

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

he's definately taught me a lot that I use every day in my life. I personally dont hunt, but he taught me how to shoot pictures and how to sneak around the woods. He taught me how to respect and different forms of respect. He taught me to use common sense and to not move through life too fast. He taught me to just sit back and enjoy nature and not to take it for granted...and so much more. I do believe Im a better person for it. There arent too many people out there like you or I that understand these things. They hear the word "hunt" and go all crazy with animal cruelty and all that fun stuff. I even had a girl tell me that my father should have let my family starve rather then hunt. There was a point in our lives that the only food we had was what we were able to get through food stamps and what my dad brought home. That point in time was another learing experience and when I truely understood what being a good hunter means. Even then he still practiced what he believed but he always made sure that there was extra meat in the freezer for those days/weeks that he didnt shoot anything. He's a good man and your parents and grandfathers sound like theyre just as great. There should be more people like them in the world.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

It feels good to connect with someone who finally understands. I grew up in Nevada where people didn't start arguments when you said the words "hunt" "gun" or "shoot" the way they do here in California. Wow, what a culture shock it is. I have lived here for 2 decades now, and I still use phrases that my relatives used, and end up sounding like a lady redneck to my friends, though they have gotten used to it. What ashame they don't have any respect for the land and preservation and such. They just can't get it. I remember when I was little when my grandparents had to buy the gas so that my parents and I could go hunting with them. We didn't have much either. But that venison especially went a long way when things got tight. Luckily I don't have to hunt for food either, but I do spend alot of time in the mountains. Luckily they are only about 1hour away from where I live now. It does my soul good to go for a visit.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

It does feel good. I remember when I would say coyote (ky-ot) instead of (ky-ot-ie) and kids would make fun of me. Thats just one example and now I say it they way they do and it makes me sad. But what you said is where the problem is. People DONT understand that we respect the land and preservation and blame us for destroying it. They claim that what theyre doing is respect and preservation all while they go to the grocery store for food, never knowing what its like to have fresh meat or even growing your own vegetables. Today people are amazed to even see a squirrel. Everyone lives in huge cities and they dont even think about all the trees and homes that were destroyed to make their homes. Im not saying that people like us or our families are perfect, but everyone has to look at the whole picture before making accusations.

I live in New Haven now so I could be closer to school and out of my house...but I miss being able to see the stars at night and to hear the coyotes' song down near the swamp...and the wildlife! Last night I nearly cried for joy when I saw a raccoon! Thats how much I miss living "in the middle of nowhere". Its crazy how much you miss something when you dont have it anymore.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

That's how I feel when I see a hawk and when I hear it cry out over the fields just a few minutes from my house. They are everywhere "in the middle of nowhere" but I have this condo but that is too quiet sometimes where I don't get to hear those noises. I guess that's why I travel to the mountains in N. CA or back to Nevada. And yes, the stars -- it's like a whole different world out there when you don't have to veer through the smog and lights. Those are the precious moments. It's like they're all alive again telling me funny or scarey stories over the campfire. And I don't ever remember being scared like I sometimes do in the city. Makes me homesick for those days. I suppose I could go back and hunt with my cousins (who were raised with the same values) but it just wouldn't be the same. But maybe I will approach them with it. It's not like they would have to babysit me. I am as good a shot as any of them. Levels the playing field. *grins* You know what I mean, it's not just about getting the scope in the right place, it's about knowing inside just when to squeeezeee that trigger that counts.

I have unbenkownst to me actually offended people on-line because of talking about how I grew up. Well, that's just how it was. To shoot to kill is not cruelty. Sometimes it is necessary to put off starvation, disease or thirst among the animal population. But the dihards won't look at that possiblity. I bet if they watched a cow being killed and slaughtered and a deer that you shot and being slaughtered they would have a different attitude. Maybe they would get it. I don't know. But I will be my father's daughter until the day I die.

Do you have a favorite story about your Dad, if I may ask? I always appreciate a good story. Simple, fancy or otherwise.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

I love hawks. The Red Tail is my favorite bird out there. There were a few that lived around my house. There was a nest nearby somewhere...I could hear the chicks in the spring...they were SO loud XP

My boyfriend and I used to camp out on the weekends before we got a place of our own and this one night we were making a fire but we needed to go down into the woods to get firewood and it was already dark. We had flashlight so without hesitation I walked right down into the forest with Eric close behind. He's not really a city boy, but much more so than I considering Im not city anything! So he's all nervous about ticks and bears (which we have two that live on the property) and the coyotes that live down by the swamp...but once were in New Haven he's walking around perfectly fine while Im close behine being scared of the "gangs" and their guns and knives. This town in on the news at least a couple of times a week! Just last tuesday there was a shooting just 15 minutes from where I live! After being here for a while though Eric decided he doesnt want to be city living anymore either. He misses the mountain biking along with the nice quiet and the smogless skies.

I never shot anything in my life. I never intend to either...I just dont have it in me. But I AM taking up taxidermy which my dad is one of the best in connecticut though he's too modest to say so. Im an artist and I love trying new things so Im going to give that a shot. Im a daddy's girl too...not in todays terms (people have really ruined it) but I just love my daddy so much. He's still that giant that used to carry me around on his shoulders (even though I cant do that anymore but you get the point)

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

The funniest time I remember about my dad was not actually a hunting trip (although I have those too) but a target shooting trip he took me too where the cops go to keep up their target shooting. We were on our way to a party, and I was all dressed up -- spiked pumps and the whole bit. He said he needed to stop in and drop off a gun to one of the guys and that he would like to introduce me to some of his friends. Right there I should have known it was a set-up. So he looked at me quite sheepishly and said why not shoot some rounds with the .38, we have time. I gave him the evil eye and said O.K. So we went about our business. When we came out and my father showed them the target there were two silver dollar size wholes through the center of mass. Wow, Gale, they said. That was pretty fine shooting. And with all the pride only a father can show he pointed at me and said "she's my daughter Tracy and she shot those rounds." They couldn't believe it. I was embarrassed but then I turned red and laughed because I realized that he just wanted to show me off. Silly, kinda, but I took my fathers hand as we walked out the door that day.

The main reason I was such a good shot was that as a kid, my dad and I used to sit on the couch and shoot at colored tooth picks stuck in a log in the fire place. It took awhile before I could get even one, but as the winters wore on, I got better and better. Then he arranged a target in his garage for air pistols and airifles, so any time I went to visit after I left home, that's where we spent out Saturday nights, just me and Dad. I sure do miss that man. And I loved your stories. Thanks so much.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

I really loved your story as well. Theres no better feeling than knowing that Ive made my dad proud. I remember the day I told him I wanted to try taxidermy and his whole face lit up and he couldnt stop talking about all the things he'd need to get and whats the best animal to work on first. Or when I graduated high school and got the history reward. All those nights my dad helped me with my homework payed off. That paper I told you about...I gave that to him as a christmas gift and I sat next to him as he opened it. He was so happy and I included the grade I got (an A) and the not that my teacher left. She was so cool and she knew I was giving it as a gift so she embelished a little. He asked me if it was going to make him cry and I told him that I didnt know. 3 paragraphs in he's in tears. He looked at me an laughed "you little shit" and gave me the biggest hug. I made Mr. Tough Guy cry. Those are the moments I live for.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

If you don't mind, I'll share another with you, this one a little on the scary side, especially if you are 11 years old. My parents used to love to hunt way out in the boonies, of course, and made their own roads in a hunk of iron called a 4X4 International truck. Well, my mother was only 4'10" and couldn't even see over the dash on the driver's side. So that summer my father took me out and taught me to drive that dang blasted thing. I hated it, but his reason was sound, as it always was. If he ever got to hurt too drive, I would have to get us out of wherever we were, possibly in 4 wheel drive. Once he was satisfied and I was relieved, we just dropped it, that is, until the following spring. We had a deal with my grandfathers about where we were going and approximately what time we would be checking in. More than 12 hours late and they would come looking for us because we all hunted the same canyon. If the weather was bad, they hiked in. And yes, it started to rain, and we were 1/3 up a canyon of brush when dad stopped to check out the situation. He slipped and broke his leg. My heart sunk right there. What do I do now, I screamed. Just listen to my voice, that's all, just do as I say. Somehow my mother and I got him into the back of the truck. We gathered brush and rocks to put under wheels for traction, which we would have to do several more times to get out of the canyon. I put the hubs in gear. I heard him say in a commanding voice, step easy on the pedal and feel the wheels grab underneath you. The truck is going to try to wiggle around, so try to hold her as steady as possible. My heart was beating fast and I was soaked from having the window open so I could see what was ahead. We did this all the way to the top. And all I could hear was my father's voice. Slow down, no turn left, keep going kid, you got it. When we reached the road, I burst into tears. My dad didn't know what to do with tears so he just kept saying that I had saved the day and that he was so proud. A few hours later my uncles showed up. My dad went to the hospital and my mother and I went home. An uncle said the truck was in good shape and drove it home himself. I still don't know how we got up that brushy incline, but I knew that as long as I listened to dad, we would be O.K. Hmmm. The trust of a child.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

Thats amazing! Talk about making your dad proud! Ive never had anything like that happen...but the closest thing I can think of are all the times my dad got hurt riding in the rodeos. I was really young, like 6 or 7, but I still understood how dangerous it was what he was doing. My brother and I always came first and he always wanted to make sure we were safe before he would go behind the shoots where the bulls were waiting. This particular time, his girlfriend at the time (parents are divorced) was watching us. My brother was 3 years younger and a bit of a handful so she was mainly occupied with him. I hear on the loudspeakers that my dad was "in the hole" so there would be two more people before him. I quickly snuck away and ran to the end of the arena where the shoots were and crawled through the gates of the bull's pen. They were monstrous but I could only think of my daddy. The bulls just stared at me. They must of thought I was crazy, but none of them even moved toward me. I crawled through the other side and quickly found my dad while he was making sure his glove was good and tight. I ran up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist and told him good luck and after he got over his suprise of me even being there in the first place he picked me up and have me the biggest hug and told me he loved me. When he put me back down he had tears in his eyes. He had a good ride that day. He didnt win, but he didnt get hurt either. Its not quite the trust of a child, but the faith of a father.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

That sounds really exciting. We never did anything quite so dangerous. I can see why you wanted to check on him to be sure he was O.K., and in front of the bulls and all. You may have been a child, but it took some guts to do that! I am so enjoying writing these stories back and forth. So I will share another.

This is a funny one. When I was maybe 5 or 6, my mother and I were sitting on the truck bed at camp while dad was out tracking a deer. He wasn't too far away, but far enough that he would have to hike a good 10 minutes back to get to us. And as far as mom and I knew, there was no one around for miles. Little did we know... so all of a sudden, my mother stands up and starts screaming at the top of her lungs!! I couldn't make out what she was saying but she did a fancy jig while she was patting herself all over. She started yelling GALE, WHERE ARE YOU, and he came running through the bushes, finally, to her rescue. And I was in stitches laughing. I couldn't help myself. Well I stopped laughing after my father had her pants pulled down and two armed hunters pointed their guns at him and told him to back up, slowly. One held him at gunpoint, thinking he was assaulting mom, and the other got out of mom that a lizzard had run up her pants and she was screaming for her husband to come and help her. I wasn't laughing anymore, to say the least, so he asked me what was going on. I confirmed her story. He asked me again, telling me I was safe now and I could tell him the truth. I told him the same thing again. So they apologized, but my father insisted that there was no need, that the situation would have appeared the same to him if he had come upon it himself. So they walked back in the woods, my dad had a stiff drink and my poor mother was bright red the rest of the day. But I will never forget her screaming and doing her jig around and around and around.....

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

HAHAHAHA! You sound like you had a pretty exciting childhood. Your poor mom.

I cant think of anything as funny as your story at this moment (Ill think of one later) but this always makes me smile...

This one time I heard my dad making all this noise outside so I ran to see what was going on. He had a shovel and was running toward the vegetable garden. I ran after him and saw a cute little garder snake slithering along. With shovel raised, he told me to move and realizing he intended to kill the little thing, I reached down and grabbed it behind the jaw. He shivered as he watched me and looking kinda sheepish he told me to bring it into the woods. He's terrified of snakes. Not phobic, but enough to the point where he'll kill anything he sees slithering. Ive saved so many innocent garders from that man and every time he knows how silly he is for being so afraid of a tiny snake...like I said before...Mr. Tough Guy XP

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

That's a cute story too. These big strong men afraid of such little innocent creatures -- that you actuallly rescued. You know, you write rather well. Have you ever considered having some of your work published as a short story?

And yes, poor mom was the brunt of many jokes, mostly mine. (They tell me it's because I was an only child and pulled pranks on her because besides my cousins, there wasn't anyone quite so much fun to play tricks on). I paid for them, but it was worth it.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I have written a little, but Im much more pleased with my artwork than my written pieces.

I pick on my dad now and then too...but he gets me back twice as bad as I got him! He's almost more of a best firend or a big brother than my dad...except when the fatherly duties must kick in.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

Pardon me for being sexist, but I do think the boys and men get you back twice a bad. Three of my boy cousins and I would play together on their ranch, and they pulled on kinds of mean jokes on me. So at night we slept at a 90 degree turn up an incline that went down and fell down about 4 feet into the driveway. I was so fricking mad at them that after they fell asleep, I quietly zipped their sleeping bags over their heads, turned them around and let them go soaring down that hill and plop onto the driveway. Of course I ran into the house and slept next to my aunt's bed the rest of the night while they fought amongst each other trying to figure out who did it. They hadn't caught on that I was even missing! *grins* I finally figured out that if I could get them to fight against each other, they pretty much left me along. Ha Ha. They still tell stories about that all these years later.

Are you still interested in commissioning some of your art work?

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

HAHAHA! That'll teach 'em!

Did you get my email? I would definately like to still do a commission for you!

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

Ya, they deserved all they got too!!! Anyway, no, I never got your email. Let me give you mine again, and see if it works. Otherwise, try giving me yours in a couple of hours and we'll try that. It's tracyrv@SBCglobal.net. I look forward to it.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

I was just wondering if you had received my email address to talk to me about a commission for one of your pieces? If you didn't, I can send it again, or you can send me yours. I can send you a fairly good sum, so it might be worth your trouble. What I would really like, is that set of stories about you and your Dad. Is that on the table too?

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

Something seems to be wrong with my computer. My email address is tracyrv@SBCglobal.net

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

I resent the email. I also doublechecked and the adress was correct. Maybe something got changed accidentatlly in your email settings. Have you been getting any emails in the past couple of days?

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

Try capitalizing SBC part only.

[ladyursus.livejournal.com]

Let's flip it around, and you send me your email address. I have been getting mine for some reason.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

lilangelwings@gmail.com

give it a shot.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

A favorite story?! I have so many. I actually wrote a final paper here in college 3 years ago about him. It only had to be 4-5 pages...I wrote 15! There are just so many stories it was hard just choosing one....I think the two best ever would be the rooster and the moon people....

My dad used to take my brother and I out hunting with him when we were really little in the fall and early winter. He would wrap us up in layers and layers of cloths and give us tons of blankets to sleep in since it was before the sun was even up. And when we did wake up, he had lots of chocolate to feed us to keep us warm. Sometimes my uncle and cousines (who were the same ages) would go too but way off on the other side of the woods. We would meet up for lunch and then go back out again. This one particular time...Im not sure exactly, but we were driving home either very late or driving to get breakfast very early because it was dark and the moon was full in the sky. My uncle was driving with us kids in the back and my dad turns around and sees us admiring the moon. "You know the moon people are having a party up there?" and off he went. We were completely captivated by the story that was weaving before us. Him and my uncle started explaining that when the moon was full and bright like it was, the moon people were having a party to celebrate all the animals that they saved. They would come to earth and find all the animals that were either abandoned or injured by a reclkess hunter and take them to the moon with them. By the time they were completely healed or grown enough to be released again, they would bring them back to earth but theyre fur was completely white like the moon! Thats where albinos came from. The moon people were only as big as us kids and they glowed like the moon. My uncle and dad met a few of them and they see them almost every time they go out hunting. They dont talk, but they love M&Ms and Cola. They befriended my uncle and dad because they respected nature and the animals and didnt hunt for sport. I went my whole childhood believing it and then it just faded as a memory...then a few years ago my dad and I were reminising and he told me that him and my uncle were just going off the seat of their pants making it up as they go. I got a kick out of that. OH! And another...more traumatizing story (then the rooster) was about the monster under my bed. I was always afraid of under the bed at night and I would always run as fast as I could and jump from as far as i could manage onto the bed. I didnt want anything grabbing me from underneath. So one night when I was about five or six, I finished brushing my teath and going to the bathroom and ran into my room like I did everynight and jumped, but in mid air some thing grabbed my leg. I screamed and rolled myself up in the covers. Over and over I screamed for my daddy and that there was a monster under the bed. He came in and flipped the lights on and calmed me down. He did a thorough check on the room for monsters and when none turned up he tucked me in and left. from that moment on, every mosquito buzz, every fly or cricket chirping I would yell for my dad to check for monsters. I dont know at what point this happened, but the monster I imagined too on the form of a giant sea dwelling dinosaur with a long neck and sharp teeth. I believed that until the day my dad confessed (yeah, I was 18 and still though there had been a monster) He had crawled unter the bed thinking that it would be funny to play a joke on me. It was HIM that reached out and grabbed my leg. And that look of loving amusement I remember was mischivous amusement instead! And boy did he regret it for all the times I made him check for the monster in the middle of the night. XP

[dewhitton.livejournal.com]

I was always afraid of the Things Under The Bed, but I had my brave panda Snowytoes to protect me. As long as he went to the bathroom with me, the thoings would never attack.

But I couldn't let my arms an legs dangle over the edge.

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

Whenever I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I would go as fast as I could and then bolt the second I pressed the lever to flush the toilet, run into my room, do my flying leap, and hide under the covers all before the last bit of water went down and made that loud gurgle noise. I always thought that when the water was gone, a monster could climb up out and I didnt want to be anywhere near when it did. I had a very active imagination...part of me still believes XP

[lilangelwings.livejournal.com]

And the rooster...Rainbow...I named him when I was like 3 or something...but when I was 5, I went out to help my dad collect the eggs from the coop and feed and water the chickens...I loved helping because a few of the chickens would let me pet them. This one day though, Rainbow had a bug up his butt or something and while my dad was refilling the feed container, Rainbow jumped on my back and started pecking me and raking me with his claws. I was screaming and trying to run away and then all of a sudden I hear the loudest sound that Ill never forget. Metal on rooster. My dad came running with a shovel and hit the bastard as hard as he could. He went flying and landed in the opposite corner of the pen, twitching. I was sure he was dead...Daddy took me in so my mom could clean me up and sat me next to the big picture window that happened to overlook the coop. By the time my mom was done and had kissed my boo-boo, that damned rooster stood up, shook himself orr, and started walking around as if nothing happened. We called him Rocky from then on...and I would poke him with a stick through the pen. I still hate roosters. They scare me....XP

How bout you? Any fond stories youd like to share?

(wow that was a lot...sorry for writting so much!)