HUNTING PORCUPINES

The recent blizzards that had us snowed in the house takes me back to memories of snowstorms that occurred during our childhood. As most young kids, when we did not have school due to a storm, we jumped with glee at the prospect of staying home unfettered by the confines of the education institution. Our minds raced of all the possibilities of how to fill this free day.



During one particularly bad winter, that of '96-'97, an anomoly occurred. We actually almost got sick of snow days. The winter was so bad, that we actually ran out of things to do. Sure, we helped our dad feed cows in the mornings and then rode or drove through the cows to check on them. Then the rest of our day was free to do as we pleased.



We filled these days with whatever entertainment we could find. We did not have television (gasp!) and this vague concept of the "world wide web" evidently was world-wide except for our area. So therefore, after feeding, losing a few games of cribbage to dad, and 1/2 hour of torture, otherwise known as "practicing our piano lessons," we soon grew bored. It was then that we did what every other sibling group does when confined, they fight and bicker. "Bickering" was only briefly tolerated by my parents, and then we were instructed to take it outside.




Once outside, the frigid air would rally us together and we would try to find something to do until it was determined by mom or dad that we were through bickering and would be allowed back inside. It was during one of these outings that we discovered one of our favorite winter activities - Porcupine Hunting.





Our creek was plagued by porcupines that eat bark and kill trees. So we were free to kill porcupines at will. We would take dad's little pump-action .22 and set off down the creek in search of the ever-elusive porcupine.












(Disclaimer: We had been taught proper handling of firearms from a young age. Porcupines were extremely overpopulated in the area. Any e-mails to us about killing of harmless creatures or gun-control will be promptly deleted. As Joe Dirt says: "Don't focus on the wrong part of the story.")





In an effort to maximize the experience, we pretended that we were on a televised safari, like those on the hunting channel, hunting the cagey, wild porcupine. How we even knew about such hunting shows is odd because as mentioned before, we didn't have television. But, anyway, two of us commentated the hunt in loud whispers as the "hunter" pretended to be stalking the sly porcupine. A special note here, the commentators always talked with an Australian accent for whatever reason.





Someone would then say "to hunt the porcupine, you understand the porcupine" and then we would all errupt into giggles. The hunt would usually be over because we would be laughing too hard.

Here is Ris demonstrating porcupine behavior. I laugh everytime I see this picture.

Gosh, we were odd kids. Probably still are.