And what did we learn from this? Always pack a shovel!

Toolmaker

Hi, I'm new here. Probably won't have many postings to share, but do enjoy those I read.

My Dad has a farm. He doesn't live on it any longer, but keeps the yards clean, mows the grass. Rents the pasture and fields out. Unfortunately, my mom liked cats. After she passed away, the cats got moved out to the farm. And they thrived. Pretty soon, there were about 20-25 of them. Dad, being the good natured guy he is, would bring them food. Big sacks of cat food, regularly.
Then, a couple of times, we surpised a skunk at the feeder. I tried to convince him to stop feeding them, as it was just money out the door for no good purpose, and now it was attracting other "undesirables".
One sunny day, he and were out there- he to mow, I went along to shoot my new toy, a VZ 24 in 8x57. As we were patrolling the grounds, Dad pointed to a particularly scruffy looking tomcat and said, "if you get a chance, go ahead and shoot that sum B*itch, he was fighting with my (insert pet name here).
About a half hour later, Dad went to town for lunch and I was getting tired of trying to hit the 100 yd target and headed to the buildings to load and leave. There sat Scruffy, licking his fur in the sun. Loading the VZ with some Turkish 150gr Ball ammo, I flipped off the safety and let fly. Scruffy, with the serenity he was enjoying shattered, leapt about three feet into the air- accomplising a nifty manuever that would have awed any olympic diver/gymnast. Speeding toward the lilac trees like a rocket, Scruffy gave me one more opportunity for a shot, but alas, I only managed to spray him with dirt.
So there I was, alone facing a dangerous beast in thick cover (think Africa here). I carefully circled the mopane, sorry, lilac trees, looking for blood. Finding none, I new my quarry to be holed up, waiting my advance. At that moment, I heard it- a loud mourning yowl, directly from the middle of the mopane stand. I looked at my watch, thinking I should maybe give him a few minutes to "stiffen up". No more yowls emanted from the bush, so I pressed in.
At the halfway point, I hit his blood trail- thick red splotches in a steady stream. I knew he was well hit now. Pressing on (about 8ft) I see fur through the muted shadows (Ok, so mopane ARE thick in the summer, right?). Lying on his side, I note his head is still up, looking down his back trail. Taking careful aim (who knows where a 150 gr FMJ is going in a lil-mopane stand), I let her rip. Scruffy is down for good now, danger is over.

Coming soon- Scruffy II, the ghost of Scruffy

Cooter

Good story cooter!!,,If you have the opportunity,,,Shoot a cinder block with that 8mm. preferably a round nose bullet,,Have fun! Clay