A little over 10 years ago, we moved out on 10 acres in north central Ohio. My son had never killed a ground hog.
His first was a trip. Big old fat rascal, . . . but a wise rascal. Come out on the porch with anything in your hand, . . . he's gone. Empty handed, . . . he continues to munch.
My son put his 870 in the front seat of his Cougar 2dr, . . . and went back in the house. A couple hours later, . . . Mr. Hog is out in the meadow. My son nonchalantly walks out, . . . gets in the Cougar, . . . starts out the 600 ft driveway, . . . makes an extreme left turn halfway out, . . . heads off Mr. Hog from the hole, . . . nails him with the 870, . . .
What a hoot!
May God bless,
Dwight
