Within this context the term “hunter” is loosely applied and bears absolutely no resemblance to the real deal, and the views contained herein are mine alone.
Apparently hunting season has begun. For the second Saturday in October, gunshots rang out in the predawn hour beating the alarm clock to signal the day had begun, ready or not.
Our bay is approximately 4.5 miles from downtown Sandpoint just across the Long Bridge as one heads south. The denizens of this residential area have been working diligently to restore the bay and this summer and fall our collective efforts rewarded us with a beautiful bay in which to enjoy recreational activities, a beautiful bay that supports a natural habitat for wildlife, a beautiful bay that we take great pride in knowing we have made a difference.
But to be honest, our motives are a bit selfish. We are working to restore this bay for our enjoyment and not to provide cannon fodder for the hunter who is now preying on the geese and migratory water fowl attracted to our waters. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt; you are not man enough to cart your weapon any farther than four miles from town, you are not old enough to drive and this is as far as mommy or daddy could bring you. Pack it in!
Hit the gym; work those weights and while you’re biding your time to become mature enough for drivers’ ed reflect on the tenets of consideration for others, true sportsmanship, and what it means to be a role model. This is the picture you want to paint? This is the best you can be? This is hunting? Really?
Word has it you limited out on your first hunting soiree. How nice. How special. Guess from your perspective gun shots shattering our tranquility for several hours on a Saturday morning is a small price for bay residents to pay for your enjoyment.