Hunting Sense

Since I’ve stolen Cliff’s computer this morning, he shouted from the other room, “If you’re going to be on there, write a post, would ya!” So, here goes…with all 13 seconds of thought about what to write under my belt.

Yesterday, we were on our way to my mother’s to do a little work for her. The drive there is pleasant, passing through, and by, some nice country scenery. I’ve gotten used to the slight swerves of the car as Cliff readjusts the wheel due to scanning the treelines off in the distance for deer–I no longer clutch the dashboard or the car door, a feat unto itself, I think! I’ve even caught myself looking for deer as we travel. But during yesterday’s drive, he treated me to something new…and slightly more…yucky.

As we drove along, we passed by a racoon who’d been smooshed lying on the side of the road. Thinking aloud (I assume), Cliff says, “Strike and tree my dog.” I turned to look at him.

“What?” I said.
“It’s a game my brother and I used to play,” he explained. “Whenever we’d see a coon on the side of the road, we’d say that. Whoever saw it first and said it got a point.” (At this point, I’m going to assume anyone familiar with coon hunting will understand the phrase, “Strike and tree my dog.”)

Now, I know there are a lot of games kids play when on road trips; I’ve done my fair share of them. Counting silo’s for a penny a piece, ‘pididdling’ cars with one headlight, punch-buggying, holding feet up as we went over train tracks for luck, license-plate bingo, and even holding my breath as we passed by graveyards. But this was a new one to me. A game involving road kill!

There are many, many times I’m so proud to have married a Redneck…more often than not, in fact. But, on occasion, I can only laugh and think to myself, “Please, God, don’t let him say that in public.” Roadkill Games was one of those times.

I think the worst part about it, though, was on the drive home the poor, unfortunate creature was still there, and…I got the point.

Hunting, Redneck, roadkill, games, deer