Where did you get my trap!?

Sounds like we lead similar lives. I spend a good deal of time pinching suckers and otherwise tending the garden. And my bird feeding operation! It’s not for the faint of heart.

My elderly english pointer goes ape shit when he senses I’m about to go out. “Take me!” he begs, panting, moaning, and sometimes even spinning in circles.

So, when the coons come, and they come every year, something has to give. He smells them at night and has a series of mini mental breakdowns.

So, I trap then and “give them to the Amish,” as it were. Drive a good few miles into deep Amish country and release them.

But last year …

Last year I got curious. And hungry.

Shot a big fat coon still in the cage. Through the head with a .22.

Skinned him, cleaned him, and roasted him.

Nah. It was OK. But … the Amish can have them.


Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot. jamesfinnwrites@gmail.com

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