I once lived in an area where I had wolves and moose, amongst other intriguing animals, for neighbors. Quite a remarkable place really. Usually you are extremely lucky to ever even see a wolf and they are rarely a danger but, one very bad winter, when game was scarce, several packs moved down from the mountains into the nearby towns and made a nuisance of themselves. One of my neighbors, and thereby myself, then had a most unfortunate run in with one of these creatures.
I am not a hunter, of animals, but I have worked several jobs which have required me to be a good shooter. At that time I worked such a job. I also collect old firearms usually from the Second World War or before. I almost always follow a pattern with a newly acquired old firearm. I strip it down, clean it, inspect it, and re-assemble it. Then I take it to the range and fire it, assuming I found it safe to do so, making a note of how it shoots and any unusual characteristics of that particular weapon. Then I clean the weapon again and add it to my collection. It is all a part of my love of history I usually try to obtain weapons of some historical noteworthiness.
During this bad winter I acquired an original US, M-1 Garand rifle. One snowy Saturday afternoon, following my standard program with a new weapon, I was coming home from the rifle range having just finished my test firing of my Garand, which was now heading for a hallowed place in my permanent collection. As I was unloading my truck I heard yelling and looking up I saw one of my neighbors, running towards me in the early evening twilight, being pursued by, what I thought at the moment was a rather large dog. My neighbor was clearly terrified and, thinking it was a wild dog, I quickly snatched up my M-1, thumbed in a clip of rounds, aimed and fired off two shots knocking the "dog" down with a "yelp." My neighbor ran to me and, as he became coherent, began telling me to "call 911 and get animal control to come get the wolf." I said, "That was a wolf?" As I slowly put two and two together and came to realize the large, non barking, "dog" must have been a wolf.
When I looked back through the snow and gathering gloom to where the animal should have been, it was gone. There was just a blood trail leading off through the snow into the woods. "Oh great!" I though, "I managed to just wound the thing." So I called 911 and informed the police of the incident. They came with animal control and looked things over. They agreed it was a clean shooting, that is to say, I was justified and not out trying to take a trophy or something. I offered to help them find the animal but I freely admitted to not being a hunter so I did not know of how much help I could really be. I just felt bad that this animal was out there suffering. I feel no compulsion about killing if I must but I hate the idea of causing needless pain. As it turned out, animal control tracked it down in about an hour and put it down, it was a lone wolf, a male. They said they thought it had been run off from its pack and was desperate enough to attack a man.
Looking back, I would do that same thing again if I had to without a second's hesitation but I really hate having to kill an animal, they are just doing what is their instinct, what they need to do to survive. That is part of why I do not hunt I suppose.
One way or the other, like the Chicago cougar I guess that human animal encounters will be more and more common in the future. Judging from the outcomes, for both the cougar in Chicago and the wolf in my case, I suppose the animals will usually get the short end of the stick. Of course, considering that both of these were large, dangerous predators, what else could have been done on such short notice?
Published by Corey Reynolds
I am a former Airborne Infantryman and EMT who went to college and now I am trying my hand at freelance writing. After spending twelve years as a single parent, I now live in central Virginia with my new wi... View profile
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1 Comments
Post a CommentLet me guess.
Hillary pulled the trigger?