I took off from work early yesterday and went grouse hunting with a friend. Rather than bore you with the whole story, I thought I’d just share a few quotes. I’m a pretty funny guy, I think.
“I’m not really big on killing things, so I watched ‘The Birds’ last night to get psyched up for this.”
“So, a couple bumps of tequila before we head out?”
“The safety on this thing is all whacked. I’ll try not to shoot you, but just in case I’ll be using really light load.”
“Duck!”
“Nice shot, Tex. Good thing birds don’t fight back.”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing probably start by pulling off some feathers. Maybe cut the beak off.”
“A buddy of mine says you just flip 'em inside out through their asshole, somehow.”
Every year on opening day of dove season we have about 20 guys who go out. My father always gives the “safety briefing”, which includes the instructions “Wait for the bird to get above eye level before shooting at it. Otherwise, you might be shooting at the guy directly across the field from you without realizing it.”
So, the very first shot my father takes is at eye level. Little did he realize that he was inadvertently shooting at the guy directly across the field from him.
Me.
Luckily, he uses small shot I came away with nothing worse than a couple of welts.
It’s funny cause just the year before his father had shot him in the same manner…
Early on in their marriage, my father decided to take my mother bird hunting. She thought this was a fine idea, and went right along with him. He took her out to out camp (cabin, for you non-Yoopers) and showed her the basics of how to use the gun. They then proceeded out into the woods, and my Dad eventually found a couple of partridge.
They’re standing far enough away that my Dad can quietly show her how to look through the finder and aim at the bird. She’s standing there, aiming, and as she’s about to pull the trigger it hits her - this is a CUTE LI’L BIRDIE that she’s about to shoot. Knowing that my Dad wouldn’t be too happy if she chickens out, she braces herself and pulls the trigger. But… just as she does it, she loses it. She just can’t kill that cute li’l birdie, so she pulls the gun away just as she hits the trigger. The gun fires… hitting my Dad in the leg.
The best part is, my Mom freaks out, crying, apologizing, what have you. She’s so upset, she can’t drive. My father drove himself to the hospital. To this day, he still has bird shot in his leg.
A resident of the Upper Penninsula of Michigan (y’know, that part that looks like it should belong to Wisconsin). “Upper Penninsula” is shortened to UP, one who lives in the UP is a UP-er, thus, yooper.
The residents of the other part of Michigan (that mitten-shaped part) are referred to as trolls, and I’ll leave it up to you to figure that one out.
Yooper (n.) [yoo-per]: a resident or native of a mosquito infested, backwoods, set-your-watch-back-20-years time zone area of the country. See also: the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
Yeu ARE a pretty funny guy…“a really light load!”
HA!!! Add yourself to the list of people I want to buy a drink for. YOU, I’d like to sit and talk to!
I came away with nothing worse than a couple of welts.