There is a fair but tolerable level of gunfire here at the farm in all the seasons to augment the sound of tractors and the occasional rumble of livestock truck out on the county road. I am happy to join in the shooting when my mood is right.
An exception was last Friday- or very early Saturday. Then sound of seven ragged rounds came from the river where three properties meet.
Absent special night vision gear, it was only a noise event. But the time? I came bolt upright in my bed, wondering if I should fill my paw against home invasion. Then I remembered the Russians had an incursion against their chicken infrastructure at mid-week.
While unattributed, I assumed fox were responsible, possibly assisted by bear. The gunfire might have been defensive in nature, but that didn’t occur to me till the next morning. And that was when Grace reminded me about the feral pigs.
I saw one in daylight a year or so ago- a fierce sow of about 220 lbs, including brown dark mud. She looked at me narrowly and skeptically with an unnerving intensity. Not a pleasant encounter, since I had no pistol in the console due to reload requirements deferred and recent government regulations changes. I am not sure the car’s usual 9mm armament would have answered the requirement.
Me and the pig parted without conflict, but she might still be around.
There is always something to think about in the country! I only want peace.
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