Bye, Bye, Birdie

For those of you who don't know, the hunting season has started. From here on out, my husband will seek out every opportunity to go kill some sort of bird, duck, or deer. Keep in mind, he continually searches for opportunities to fish, even if it is only in the ponds near our house. So, I guess, for many types of animals, my husband is their worst enemy.

Me, on the other hand, I could care less about these activities. Chad is a fisherman. I am a catcherman. What is a catcherman do you ask? A catcherman is someone who only wants catch the fish. The whole experience of fishing and casting over and over again is beyond me. The scenery can be nice, but, whatever. If I put my line in the water, a fish had best jump on it. Otherwise, I would rather just read a book.

As far as hunting goes, I am not a hunter, I am a killer. If I drive 6 hours to freeze my a*^ off in a deer blind, there better be some meat in it at the end of the morning because, no, I am not going again in the afternoon. I will be sitting in front of the TV watching the Hallmark Channel or Food Network thank you very much.

Bird or duck hunting is something I have NEVER even wanted to try. Why would I get up at 4 in the morning, put on plastic pants, trapse through a marsh in the rain to squat and hope some stupid birds fly over - that I have to be able to tell are the right species and shoot at while they fly 40 - 60 mph over head. Keep in mind that most days when I drive to work, I rarely get to drive faster than 40 mph. No. This is not a sport for me...

Until last night...

I needed to fill up my car with gas. On the way, there was a bird standing in the middle of the road. Normally, birds fly away when a car approaches, even if they just barely make it out of the way. I was driving, maybe 30 mph, (it was in a residential zone) the bird looked me in the eye, but I didn't waver. I drove straight over him.

There was a small thud on the front end of the car and as I passed over him, I saw feathers flying through the air from my rearview mirror. Hmmm. That was weird. Bye, bye, birdie.

I called Chad. He asked me what I hit. I told him I hit a bird. He thought I was going to tell him that I had hit something more serious... He asked me what kind of bird. A gray one. My biggest hope was that it wasn't stuck in the grill when I got to the gas station. Removing a bird carcass was not on my agenda for the evening.

Good news. Only a few feathers remained. I easily removed them, deposited them in garbage and sanitized with a wet one.

Another successful hunt.