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

[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.