Let me say up front that people hunt in my neck of the woods all the time. This time of year, I hear them every day. Far away, up in the hills. And to them I say, “Not for me, but good luck to you.”
No, I am talking about the 1% of hunters who don’t go up in the hills to hunt, hills which are not very far away, hills which you can reach by… oh… crossing the street and crossing the creek and climbing. I am talking about the assholes who stay down here in the residential areas and shoot. And since I hear hunters up in the hills every day this time of year, I know what they sound like. And it’s not like it sounds when you shoot.
Listen, when it is so loud and close that I am concerned you’re shooting at my house, it is time for you to reconsider. If you must hunt down here, perhaps take up bow hunting. If you’re not sport hunting but shooting at, say, a coyote or a rabid dog or something, please shout a courtesy, “Coyote!” or “Killer beaver!” once you’ve put it down.
Then your neighbors will all go back about their business with no concern.
Because here’s the thing. I’d like to believe that you are like your buddies up in the hills and that you have taken all precautions and checked to see what is behind the thing you are shooting at (say, possibly, me), but it’s not like there’s just five houses down here. It’s actually pretty well-packed for “rural.” So, your poor judgment in choosing to stay down here to shoot does not make me feel like I trust your judgment about what you’re shooting at.
Get it together.