D&L are still fighting off some sort of respiratory infection, as a result of which I’m kind of ducking them. But they know I’m there if they need something, and of course L is still the neighborhood telegraph so I wasn’t altogether surprised when the phone rang early this morning…
“Did you hear the shots? (cough cough)”
“No. Innocent. What shots?” (L really doesn’t like it when neighbors shoot guns without notice, especially since Ian and I sort of accidentally hosed her property with a Vickers gun last year. I still haven’t heard the end of that.)
Of course that dislike doesn’t extend to cases in which something really needs to get shot. Turns out it was D doing the shooting…
“[D] killed two dogs last night, might have tagged a third one. There were five in the pack, trying to get at this cute little calf I’ve (cough, cough) fallen in love with. The others ran off.”
There’s going to be trouble eventually, possibly over this very incident. These dogs (almost but not quite certainly) didn’t come from the usual suspect, that lowlife puppy mill operator over the plateau to the east. He seems to have finally been driven to friendlier climes. But there’s another bunch of rednecks in the other direction who are making a rep for themselves – and I’m glad of it because I can imagine circumstances where it’s people and not dogs getting shot in self defense. A prior reputation will make the explanations a lot easier for the lawmen to swallow.
Sometimes I fear readers will think I’m trying to spread the impression I live in some sort of solar-powered low-budget Randian utopia. In our little neighborhood we do get along fairly well and have reasonably compatible ideas about how things should go. But we’re surrounded by other people, not of the body. I’m afraid D just killed a couple of dogs belonging to one or more of them…
You don’t live in a “solar-powered low-budget Randian utopia”? Dammit, another of my illusions shattered.
Good thing feral dogs don’t have the same legal protection as the cattle.
Bury em deep, either mammal type probably won’t be missed
When neighbors’ dogs kept tearing into my chicken/pheasant/dove pens and sometimes killing some, I told my neighbors to keep their dogs off my property. Their response was to immediately threaten violence if anything happened to their dogs. So I stopped warning and started shooting. They cared so much about their dogs that no one ever came looking for a missing dog- they just kept getting replacements which I kept shooting. Many of those dogs were in such bad shape from neglect that I probably did them a favor.
To quote the late Al Capone “You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.”
I’m lucky, where I’m located the issues of roving dogs is very minimal with the only problems coming from the dolts who are from the big city and own cottages These fools think it’s OK to let their pit bulls etc roam around. I have had to warn a couple about this but the situation hasn’t escalated to the gunfire stage (yet). Now coyotes, wolfs and bears are a totally different story…
By the way while you may not live in a “solar-powered low-budget Randian utopia” it’s a lot better than living in a Mad Max dystopia.
I think it was last year when I almost shot a couple of dogs harassing the horses next door. The owner from down the road managed to gain control of them JUST in time, and I’ve not seen them loose again. Here the law is clearly on the side of those who need to defend themselves against dogs, feral or otherwise. If they are on your property and harassing livestock or people, they can be shot without a problem. Best if you don’t shoot any of the people or livestock in the process, of course. Practice, practice, practice. 🙂
It’s the same here, but of course the law only becomes an issue after the fact. We live far from the areas the police give any thought at all to protecting, so the only consideration involving the police is whether they’re going to be a problem after we’ve resolved the problem. I’m much more concerned with how the dogs’ owner(s) will behave than with how the police will.
This kind of thing reminds of the pukes from Fort Lewis College who would abandon the mutts they acquired as soon as out from under parental roof, almost like clockwork, as soon as school was out and they had to go back home there would be scared, hungry and frequently injured dogs in the canyon.
There was a cul-de-sac at the end of the paved road that marked the beginning of the National Forest. The assholes would drive their dogs out there, drop them off, either distracting them and speeding away or by tethering them to a picnic bench that was there.
By the end of June there would always be several leashes, ropes, bloodied collars or bandanas and fur left to bear witness.
The little ones always got chewed.
The larger ones would form packs.
That was a huge issue by Winter.
I had to shoot several of them. One particular Winter day I was almost lunch for a group led by a very large Alsatian. I’m sure under different circumstances I’d have found him to be an admirable friend.
We didn’t have too many seasonal residents, but the ones we had did seem to like to let their hounds roam free.
Some of them never made it home.
“…whether they’re going to be a problem after we’ve resolved the problem.”
That’s the thing about living Out Here, whether that’s desert, up in the hills, or back in the deep woods. Folks who live Out Here are used to solving problems themselves, whatever form that may take. It is much preferred that it not involve violence–I don’t want the damned hassle.
In the end, though, in a rural area all the cops can do is show up & document the carnage, if any. It’s already done by the time they get here.
Hope it works out peacefully, Uncle Joel.