We’re a bloodthirsty bunch, aren’t we? Personally I’d just get out the ol’ flame thrower….
But I gotta throw this in: I was raised in the mountains of Ol’ Virginie very near the Kentucky line where most men carried. Hunting is an everyday sport there today. As a teen, I used to take to the hills after school and on weekends when all you city folks were cutting up in the back of Buicks and drinking beer.
On my way I always passed a small farm-ett run by a crazy old lady with about 50 Leghorn chickens. She used to yell at me to stop, have some tea (that is what we called it) and kill chickens. “I want you to kill that old hen that has stopped alayin’ – you see that’n over thar!” “Yes Mrs. Carter.” You ever see 50 leghorn chickens in a single coup? I never had any idea which one she meant, but the one I shot was always O.K.
My weapons of choice: City, P90; country, Browning 22 long rifle semi-automatic. I spent many years on the Army’s large and small bore teams. I can confirm Lex’s close misses with a moving target at long range – it ain’t easy!