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Been lurking and laughing here for a while. I decided it is time to openly admit that I like hunting small game. Stuff with feathers and whiskers...doves, ducks, squirrels, rabbits, and the occasional lazy lawn lion that gets caught in the crosshairs. I have always maintained my own population of a crat or two, to keep the rodent population in check. If they are worthless, then they become fertilizer. I have planted them feet-up and feet down, but I can't get them to grow. The peppers and tomatoes however are doing excellent. If they are keepers, then I get along with them and see they have a home. In turn, they get "protection" for the job they do. When the one-eyed stray wanders into the yard thinking about opening a can of whoop-ass, then my feet get jumpy and my twigger finger gets to twitching. I moved into a neighborhood about 5 years ago, so it is not like I used to do in the country and just walk outside and let him have it. Now I have to be covert...bide my time. Recently, I went through the whole process of getting uncle sam to let me have a suppressor. Oh boy has it been fun. I do the live trap if the problem is at night. During the day, I can come home while everyone else is working. Maybe a housewife or two home. Let me say that tabby on the outside table, makes a great temporary leaf pile ornament until nighttime. Then it is fertilizer for the garden. Tool of choice: Bolt action CZ .22 LR with the muzzle threaded for a suppressor. A little shot of oil in the baffles and it is night-night tabby. Next door neighbors never know as I wait until they are inside. Maybe I am a bit too cautious, but can't be too careful. I have to keep a low profile. That rifle is very effective and the cci subsonic rounds give tabby a splitting headache. The 'can' hushes it right down to where it sounds like an anemic air rifle. The Toms don't like it one bit. I think it is the best investment I have every made. Well worth the wait and adds another layer of covertness to dealing with toms. There is one wandering around right now who's days are numbered. Time to leave the food bowl out tonight...The range from my back door to the food bowl/barn door is 20 yards. hehe. Frosty03 | ||
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Welcome to the gang Frosty!!!! Nice work!Clay | |||
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Those rifles have an excellent reputation for very good accuracy. I am sure you will enjoy using it. "Make yourselves sheep and the wolves will eat you" G. ned ludd | |||
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Suppressors are almost cheating. But real efective I bet . Johnch NRA life Delta Pheasants Forever DU Hunt as if your life depended on your results | |||
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They ain't cheating if you are going 'Urban' Plus you don't get every door in the neighborhood opening when you trip the trigger either. You have to make sure that you drop ol' tom quickly. But they are quiet for sure, not silent, but very very quiet. As everyone who has tagged a tom with a rimfire knows, sooner or later you are gonna get a howler/moaner along with the acrobatics. I pick and choose my targets more carefully these days to assure that doesn't happen. Where I lived before I remember an ol' yellow tom had eaten my cat's food and was sleeping up on the table where I fed them. Range=25 yards. "This'll only take a minute", I told my dad. "Ok, you get em and I will get the shovel". CRACK---Whop! That tom came off the table like a banshee and headed straight for me. He was stretched out in a full run with his tail doing the windmill. This all took place in less time it takes to read this. I just watched him run at me getting ready to whack him with the butt of the rifle. I had already worked the bolt, but no way I was gonna tag him at a full run. He made it to within 10 feet of where I stood and rolled over on his side, twitched once and stretched out for good. That one was exciting to say the least. I looked at him and it was a perfect heart shot, I had seen the spurt in the crosshairs when I nailed him. I hope that never happens where I live now. Head shots and you get the acrobatics. I will tell you about the one I nailed under the a trailer another time. The occupents were not home, but you could hear him jumping and hitting the bottom of the trailer a mile away I bet...or so it seemed at the time. | |||
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I've found that building a "shooting box" and using CB caps up to about 35 yards is absolutely perfect for urban lap leopards. I even have a neighborhood golden retriever that will jump the fence and run off with the carcass, and thus get the credit/blame for killing the cat. The neat thing, is that the shooting box is legal and just as good as a suppressor, without all the pesky regs and dealings with the other kind of 'crats. | |||
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I to have had a few lap the yard before expiring . LOL I also use 22 CB longs , I put in a good supply before Rem quit making theirs. Have you tryed CB's longs or shorts with the supresser ?? They are quiet to start with and with the suppresser you may not even hardly here the gun go off. CB longs will work in most bolt action rifles mags . Johnch NRA life Delta Pheasants Forever DU Hunt as if your life depended on your results | |||
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Welcome Frosty your going to fit in here well all times wasted wot's not spent shootin | |||
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Hi Frosty, welcome! Sure do like your attitude and dedication. I thought about a muffler in the past but could never make myself crawl into bed with the BATF to that degree. Anyway give me a long barrel and a little powder, and almost any cartridge can be made quiet enough for urban utility in the war on crats. I use CB shorts and caps(for variety) when they charge enmasse. A good .22 pump will hold about 25 or so, my own takes 29 IIRC. Only ran out of ammo once, but that was during the Great Muscovey Duck Caper back in '86. Well, best to ya, welcome to the killing fields. Dan Pres., TYHC www.OneCratPerDay.KeepsTheGatorsAtBay If yuro'e corseseyd and dsyelixc can you siltl raed oaky? | |||
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I had a experience with those chewy,,,stringy,nasty ass poor excuses of ducks Dan,,please do tell,,We more or less pitched all of our muscovy's. Clay | |||
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I mow a yard for a friend whose weekend house is on a lake. He wanted nice green grass in the winter so he overseeded with ryegrass. Well, he had nice green grass, but his driveway, sidewalk, boat dock, etc, etc, was green too from the Muscovy ducks thet grazed in the yard as well. I started taking my Sheridan with me each time I went to mow, and after a couple of months, the population was noticeably reduced. Don't think the lady across the lake that fed all the ducks ever figured it out. An old pilot, not a bold pilot, aka "the pig murdering fool" | |||
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First of all Clay, I demand immunity. For everything! Long time back I was just starting to get my financial life in order, and in the course of that evdeavor I lived for a time in Davie, FL. In a single wide, located on the outside corner of the park, surrounded by a large cow pasture. The neighbors to the front of my place were young and fighting most of the time, the guy behind my place was...a real savage...well, until the night that two of his "friends" picked him up like a battering ram and tried to punch a new doorway into... well, that's yet another tale. Sorry I digressed... Across the street lived spritely old Helen S...., the gal that owned the black cat that I shot in the ass with the slingshot that time. Well, she started collecting crats and I started disposing of them. If they ever do any excavating around the place there will no doubt be a full CSI team at work after the bones surface, that is, the ones with the .22 cal holes where they don't belong. Damn, there weren't no place to bury any more of the damn things, so I had to take 'em across the pasture to the sand quarry and bury them there! Didn't have any gators back then. Old Helen, bless her heart, she found new ones as fast as I could make room for 'em, and one day I counted 17 of the crat bastards! I gotta admit that there are a whole lot of poriferal stories here, but I'll touch on them later. This is a duck story. Had ya fooled I bet. Well, it was about then that I came home from work one day and there was a flock of Muscovey Ducks eatin' the crat food Helen had put out, and she was trying vainly to shoo them away with a broom! Bless her Polish attitude, as much as she liked crats, she hated ducks cause they make one helluva mess! So I put my heart into it, shooed 'em off, then went downtown and bought a Saturday Night Special Paintball Gun. Friggin thing was so cheap I figured to toss it if the Heat showed up, so me, the SNSPG and a whole bunch of different colored paint balls went home to meet destiny. It really was a lot of fun for a few days! Helen thanked me, the crats starved, the ducks went out to the lake and rinsed the paint off and we started all over again! Then I knocked one senseless for about 10 minutes with a frozen paint ball(exploring terminal ballistics), and then I ricocheted a single wide about 5 lots down and the red neck cowgirl wannabe got all pissy about it, and that was that! No more fun. You know me though, I wasn't about to let some Budwieser Slut tell me what to do, and anyway, Helen was beside herself with frustration. I stopped by Davie Feed and Tack on the way home the next day and picked up 10# of cracked corn, got home and determined the Couple Locked in Eternal Mortal Combat and the gay blade door ram weren't home, and set about doing my Pied Piper thing. I ran a trail of corn from the front of my place to the rear, and 30 feet from my bedroom window, where nobody but I could see, and put a great big ol' pile of corn down just they would all gather 'round. Quick like a bunny back inside and loaded the Remmy .22 Pump to the top with CB shorts(my first full fledged caper with them), opened the window and pulled the screen out. Wouldn't ya know it, there was a whole damn flock of squawkin', flappin', shittin', quackers in my yard! Well, good thing I was prepared! Out the window went black steel, bad news to follow! First shot was a bad one, me being all excited and all. Grazed the damn thing's head and it started floppin' all over the yard, and it occurred that it just wouldn't do to have that out in the front yard! Bap, Bap Bap, and that was that. Dead in the Back Yard, or DBY for short. "Shit!" sez me, "I gotta do better than that!" So I took a breath, remembered my old days in the Cav, Khe Sanh, and the A Shau Valley...I waited for one to turn his back to me and whacked him right between the shoulder blades. Bap-Flop, hardly a twitch! The day wore on, Bap-flop, Bap-Flop. Bap-flop, click-shit! Gun held 29 bullets and I was Winchester with my Remmy! And there were still live ducks on the corn pile! So, ol' Dan started to reload, even as the laughter continued. My dog was hiding under the bed, don't think she knew what was going down exactly...finally got the Remmy stuffed, put the barrel out the window, Bap-Flop, Bap-Flop! Finally quiet settled on the field of battle, the stench of cordite drifting through the trailer park. A baby cried in the distance, a car door slammed. I put the gun down, talked to the dog a minute and then closed the window up and poured a stiff drink to dull the adrenaline rush a little. Went outside to look over the handy work, a feather drifted by on a breeze that stank of death. Well, that day death was my business and business was good! 27 dead ducks scattered about like Frenchmen at Dien Bien Phu! "HA HA HA HA!", I laughed, "Eye yam zee veector today you peegs!!!" Thing is, I had a lot of brass those days, and not a lot of respect for...little things, like 200 pounds of friggin ducks. I knew what Hannibal Lecter would have done, so I did it. Yep, 4 per black Glad trash bag, tied 'em up tight and put 'em in the trash cans for the garbage pick up the next day. Hey, I'd been doing a remodel on the single wide anyway, they were used to heavy loads at my place. I am proud to say that it all went without a hitch, Helen gave me a wink and some brownies, and said "It'll just be our little secret Dan." Peace returned, I resumed making room for Helen's new crats, and never saw another friggin' duck in the 'hood again. Oh, and Clay, I never have tried cookin' one of the damn things. A neighbor told me that pussy was a lot tastier anyway.... If yuro'e corseseyd and dsyelixc can you siltl raed oaky? | |||
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Dammit Dan, take 2 minutes at work to peek in and see what tales are being told here, and now the co-workers are looking at me funny! I can't stop laughing, picturing you in a trailer park making war, not love, with a flock of ducks! POTKB, at work! Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. | |||
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Oh Danny! ----------------------- A man can never have too much red wine, too many books, or too much ammunition. - R. Kipling | |||
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Great story Dan. Keep up the good work. "Make yourselves sheep and the wolves will eat you" G. ned ludd | |||
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Dan,,Immunity granted!!,POTKB And the neighbor was speaking the truth!!!!Clay | |||
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