Fifty pounds of bark
I coon hunted once. The County Judge picked me up about dark. I’da never found ‘em at night. The dogs cost more than their pickup trucks. Coon huntin’ is at night. There’s no shooting—no hunting by humans at all. Dogs ride in truck beds and jump out and take off when they park. There’s usually a fire. We smoke and maybe have a nip. The barking begins. Old Larry says, “It sounds like ol’ Blue got one treed.” The dogs come back without a racoon, and everybody heads home ‘bout midnight. That’s it!
Look both ways to those people who see things differently.
Mind the gaps. But leave the dogs and coons alone.