Why did the cows cross the road?
Yup, exactly what I thought, I know this one. That was Wednesday morning and my youngest had walked the dogs while I was just getting from the sack. She found me in the kitchen and popped her question, then gave me a look like ...you really are the slow one ...they’re not supposed to cross the road daddy!
“...something’s wrong,” she said. We drove down from our perch in the high desert foothills and sure enough, cows, horses, one very cute baby burro, and assorted livestock wandering aimlessly on two sides of a country lane and causing a stir of excitement. Cars had stopped on the road. I watched children feeding grass to the burro as a sheriff’s patrol car moved through, then spotting me, stopped and powered down his window. “Hear any shots last night or early this morning?” Nope. “Please tell me you guys had all your cameras running yesterday and today.”
I told him I’d get the new access code to run the storage drives, and he explained his interest. A group (unknown) had taken sport in shooting off the ceramic insulators on about five miles worth of electric fence that had kept the animals confined. Outside the fencing, livestock dangers are: drivers, large predators, and hunger. The small ranch sits on the only northern reaching road that divides our small mountain community with the greater world outside; meaning large suburban clusters and sprawl, i.e., Phoenix, Mesa, Scottsdale, all in a manic race to create a desert version of mindless east coast blight. Our community escaped this fate by virtue of five founding fathers who returned from WWII and Korea, bought all the land up to the Reservation, and then over many years pursued their vision to build a small community with others who shared their interests in hunting and shooting and fishing and nature/land preservation. There is only one road in and one road out. Down the blind side of the mountain facing the Indian Reservation and their sacred land (The Great Four Peaks), we have our gun range and club house, which has a road with an electronic guard gate. A code will allow entry, but there are also two video cameras secured in place, high/low, covering access ...that is until Thursday...
...some nitwit shot the camera off a pole. The sheriff found a dozen .223 shells about 60 feet from the spot, so the shooter must have been very proud, well on his way to a NRA Golden Bullseye award. Our camera Range Monitor (duty changes constantly) did not see the outage but the memory drive recorded 7:28PM, just before dusk, and we got a replacement up and running. All quiet since but we’re having a meeting in the morning with Tribal Police (two good friends), County Sheriff, and State Police to assess our new situation. There’s a chance they are taking a path across tribal lands, for their sake I hope they don’t get arrested there. A detective told me this mindlessness is everywhere, they blame the virus lock down with reports from all over the state of teenagers “acting out” and doing “strange things” with boredom being suggested as the cause. I asked him what “acting outing” meant because seriously, I don’t know. But I do know this, which is not an excuse, just a statement of fact:
Firearms are transformative and enormously attractive to the young, as well they should be. To have your first gun and suddenly possess all that potential, and all that power -- but then suddenly be forbidden to use it -- must be more than many can stand.
Our great suburban cities prohibit the freedom to practice an ancient sport. To shoot targets or jump cans, owners are forced to leave the city limits where they reside, so what should be easy becomes so difficult that real plans have to be made ...I have seen this evolve in places I have fled. These are the places where you find scarring and destruction from bullets. We never had that here, until now. Reckless and destructive behavior comes as no surprise when encroaching prohibited use is considered. I’d be curious what others feel or are experiencing ...just last week the dawns were quiet here.
Yup, exactly what I thought, I know this one. That was Wednesday morning and my youngest had walked the dogs while I was just getting from the sack. She found me in the kitchen and popped her question, then gave me a look like ...you really are the slow one ...they’re not supposed to cross the road daddy!
“...something’s wrong,” she said. We drove down from our perch in the high desert foothills and sure enough, cows, horses, one very cute baby burro, and assorted livestock wandering aimlessly on two sides of a country lane and causing a stir of excitement. Cars had stopped on the road. I watched children feeding grass to the burro as a sheriff’s patrol car moved through, then spotting me, stopped and powered down his window. “Hear any shots last night or early this morning?” Nope. “Please tell me you guys had all your cameras running yesterday and today.”
I told him I’d get the new access code to run the storage drives, and he explained his interest. A group (unknown) had taken sport in shooting off the ceramic insulators on about five miles worth of electric fence that had kept the animals confined. Outside the fencing, livestock dangers are: drivers, large predators, and hunger. The small ranch sits on the only northern reaching road that divides our small mountain community with the greater world outside; meaning large suburban clusters and sprawl, i.e., Phoenix, Mesa, Scottsdale, all in a manic race to create a desert version of mindless east coast blight. Our community escaped this fate by virtue of five founding fathers who returned from WWII and Korea, bought all the land up to the Reservation, and then over many years pursued their vision to build a small community with others who shared their interests in hunting and shooting and fishing and nature/land preservation. There is only one road in and one road out. Down the blind side of the mountain facing the Indian Reservation and their sacred land (The Great Four Peaks), we have our gun range and club house, which has a road with an electronic guard gate. A code will allow entry, but there are also two video cameras secured in place, high/low, covering access ...that is until Thursday...
...some nitwit shot the camera off a pole. The sheriff found a dozen .223 shells about 60 feet from the spot, so the shooter must have been very proud, well on his way to a NRA Golden Bullseye award. Our camera Range Monitor (duty changes constantly) did not see the outage but the memory drive recorded 7:28PM, just before dusk, and we got a replacement up and running. All quiet since but we’re having a meeting in the morning with Tribal Police (two good friends), County Sheriff, and State Police to assess our new situation. There’s a chance they are taking a path across tribal lands, for their sake I hope they don’t get arrested there. A detective told me this mindlessness is everywhere, they blame the virus lock down with reports from all over the state of teenagers “acting out” and doing “strange things” with boredom being suggested as the cause. I asked him what “acting outing” meant because seriously, I don’t know. But I do know this, which is not an excuse, just a statement of fact:
Firearms are transformative and enormously attractive to the young, as well they should be. To have your first gun and suddenly possess all that potential, and all that power -- but then suddenly be forbidden to use it -- must be more than many can stand.
Our great suburban cities prohibit the freedom to practice an ancient sport. To shoot targets or jump cans, owners are forced to leave the city limits where they reside, so what should be easy becomes so difficult that real plans have to be made ...I have seen this evolve in places I have fled. These are the places where you find scarring and destruction from bullets. We never had that here, until now. Reckless and destructive behavior comes as no surprise when encroaching prohibited use is considered. I’d be curious what others feel or are experiencing ...just last week the dawns were quiet here.
Most are still not here yet. Thank goodness!!
