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American Handgunner Jul/Aug 2010 - Page 70
J.D. Jones HANDGUNHUNTING TIPS, TECHNIQUES AND POLITICALINCORRECTNESS J.D.’S REALLY, REALLY AWFUL, TERRIBLE, VERY BAD DAY W hen I was a kid living on a farm one of my jobs was predator control. Yep, we had them; foxes, coons, possums and a lot of cats and dogs dumped by those city folk who thought taking care of an unwanted pet was dumping him in the country for a farmer to adopt. I grant you that happened once in awhile. The rest of the time they learned to live off the land, and that included raiding the chicken house and anything else they thought they could handle. When a bunch of them formed a pack they were quite formidable and often took down sheep, pigs and calves. Chasing cows was great sport. The cow’s udder would swing wildly as it ran and the teats were great targets to bite. This often resulted in a horrible injury and infection which resulted in the cow having to be put out of it misery, which created a significant loss to the farmer he could not afford. Over a half century, I’ve saved countless cows’ lives. Interestingly Artist: Warhooper I recently read the greatest numbers of nuisance animals in the country are still wild dogs and cats. Yesterday a client purchased a silenced 300 Whisper for coyote control. It seems they are playing hob with his cash crop — watermelons! I became quite proficient at handling the problems with traps and firearms. A 6" High Standard Sport King .22 was pretty much a constant companion. she accepted my bumbling invitation! The big day finally arrived. Wow … she really looked great as she lightly tripped down the steps of her house with a great big smile on her face. The seven-mile drive across county on back roads to get to the movie passed way too fast. After the movie started she leaned against me and I put my arm round her and she snuggled right up. Progress! Can’t remember the movie, but I’ll never forget Mary. Afterward we went to a drive-in for snacks and laughed ourselves silly. On the way back to her house driving through the country she snuggled up with my arm around her. Wild visions of a few goodnight kisses parked in her driveway danced in my head. J.D.’s Affliction I went to grade school with Mary Potter. She lived a couple miles away as the crow flies, and several of us kids would go over to play since there was a railroad trestle over a creek a quarter mile behind her house. We found it great sport to climb all over the trestle and when a train came along we would stand on the trestle and let the engineer blow the train whistle at us. At the last second we would duck inside or under the trestle, as it was too high to jump off. That was really good sport and new engineers would throw on the brakes, which caused quite a commotion. Occasionally the railroad dicks would come out and threaten the neighborhood with what they would do if they caught us. Good Luck, Dick! As we grew older and got into high school, Mary Potter grew from a skinny tomboy to quite an attractive young lady. At about age 16, raging hormones and the beauty and wonderful personality of Mary Potter overwhelmed me. I was seriously infatuated … totally deeply in puppy love. If you have never experienced this phenomenon you have missed one of the great experiences of life. Finally, I got up the nerve to ask her to the movies and, surprises of surprises, A DreADful DeciSion S 70 uddenly a big feral cat darted from right to left in front of the car. I slammed on the brakes and swung the wheel left. As the Ford came to a stop with the running cat head-lighted I yanked the emergency brake on with one hand, grabbed the High Standard from under the front seat and bailed out as I shook the Lawrence holster off it. Knocking off the safety I lined up the sights on the running cat, squeezed the trigger releasing the firing pin to detonate the primer compound, ignite the powder, propel the Super X .22 LR hollow point at around 1,300 fps, which produced an end-over-end roll of the stone dead cat. And that, my friends, was as close as I ever got to Mary Potter. * WWW.AMERICANHANDGUNNER.COM • JULY/AUGUST2010