Obviously I think people making death threats are WAY out of hand. But that�s the 2 sensationally (newsworthy) ones� out of how many complaints?
It�s really not surprising that he got a �wave of angry reaction�.
Isn�t it true that serial killers and really crazed killers often started out with domestic animals?
"Smith said his proposal was prompted by cats prowling around the bird feeder at his home."
That seems to suggest that ANGER (ie: HATRED) is prompting his interest in hunting cats. Which seems rather disturbing to me.
I�m sure anger and hostility plays into some hunters psyches� Like an aggressive impulse. But most hunters I know are NOT hunting deer because they�re pissed as all hell that they run out in front of their cars. hahaha. It�s not really about that. More about tradition and hunter gatherer romanticism than anything like that.
I get ticked when the deer run out in front of my car - but it doesn�t spur me to take up arms during hunting season. haha. I mean, my neighbor lets her cat out, and the cat sometimes comes on my porch and digs into my rubbish bin, tearing things out. It�s annoying, but I would think it completely out of proportion to actually shoot the cat.
Besides� In this town of La Crosse, where this guy lives with his bird feeders� Would it be legal, even during a hunting season, to discharge fire arms within his town�s limits?
Like I don�t know, but I�m thinking people in a tight suburban neighborhood, for example, shouldn�t be shooting off guns in their back yards willy nilly - that�s not hunting. I mean a stray bullet meant for a cat could actually wind up killing the neighbor�s children, never mind!
We spotted small cat herd in a glen about 30 yards to the north. After masking our scent with cat piss, we bellied up to the edge of the clearing for a closer look. Frank had a trophy tabby in his sights, but I was looking for something bigger. I sounded a few MEOWS and tossed out a ball of yarn to attract any rutting males. Sure enough, a huge calico tom came bounding into the glen, almost right down my barrel. I waited until he exposed his side and then took my shot. DAMN! TOO HIGH! The herd scattered to the four winds, but my calico hissed and charged through the brush at us. Frank and I jumped to our feet and ran down the hill, the snarling cat not more than a few feet behind us. I could feel his hot breath on my ankles as I clambered up a tree, but Frank kept on running and barely made it back to the truck before the cat was on him. I'll never forget his screams as the animal clawed at his shins. Luckily, I still had my rifle. I steadied my aim and pulled the trigger, and this time my bullet found its target. Frank had a few nasty scratches, but they were quickly diminished by our pride as we drove through town with the kitty carcass strapped to the hood of my Ford. It was the hunting trip of a lifetime, and I can't wait to go out next week and get that tabby!
Posted by Liberal Larry | Wednesday 13 April 2005 4:17PM
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