I’m glad that I’ve always lived some place more sensible.
I remember early in my marriage, my husband wanted to go hunting on opening day and had nobody to go with him. I sai that I’d go (I wa yong and dumb) and would take the baby. We set up the play pen in a clearing, spread a blanket and I sat reading a French novel that I had never finished in college with a fallen log to lean on.
It seemed forever before he came back. I cold hear gunshots all around. At one point, I heard the voices of some men, and I became a little nervous. I could hear them for a long time before I saw them hiking through the clearing on the other side. I realized that they had no idea that my daughter and I were there!
When my husband came back I asked if he’ shot anything. “There’s nothing out there.”
“What were all those shots” I asked.
“They’re just shooting at trees, it’s opening day,” he answerd.
“How far do those bullets travel?” I asked. I don’t remember the answer except that it alarmed me because I realized that the hunters surrounding us had no idea to expect that we’d be there. I realized that we were sitting ducks, despite our red clothes. The clearing in the woods was a very stupid place to be. I told him off, and he agreed. I’ve never gone out in the woods with him again.
Back when I lived in Nola I came out on New Year’s day and found a bad ding on the roof of my car from a falling bullet. It probably came from the St Bernard project or maybe Gentilly.
You know, you can buy fiber wad rounds that come down as fluff.