Hunting ...

Today's Guest Blogger is Britton.* But you can call him b-low.

This is a very serious story about this one time I went hunting.

It started on a friday. Or was it a thursday? I'm not exactly sure. Some of the details are somewhat blurry, so I'll try my best and fill in details with lies and extreme exaggerations.

So we left on our trip to go hunting somewhere up north. After 62 straight hours of driving we finally arrived and the deer and moose were everywhere. There actually was no need to hunt because you could basically say "here moosey moosey", and they'd come running. So we decided to go for more of a challenge and drove about 163 kms west of this spot and set up camp. There were no animals anywhere near, except for the neighbouring beavers that had set up camp basically 4 feet away from us. They were pretty friendly though. They caused us no problems at all ... yet.

So I woke up the next morning first, or third, doesn't matter. I made breakfast for everyone, cause I'm pretty much the best cook ever ... (sidenote) I can make chocolate chip cookies with nothing but tree bark and 3 stray dog hairs. They don't taste that great, but hey, they're chocolate chip cookies, you can't complain.

Back to the story, I made breakfast and everyone ate, and then we decided to head out hunting. We broke into 2 groups and were off. With my J827 Oozie and my 277 rifle (those are guns) I was off. After 2.75 hours I saw something in the distance ...

A black bear?
A black moose?
or elk?
or pigeon?
Something.

So I shot it.

As I walked towards it, it stood up and started running towards me. I quickly brought out my gun again and shot it in the face.

Turns out, it was a buddy of mine, Peter, that I had gone hunting with. I apologized and headed back to camp.

So at dinner someone asked me about my day and I told them all about it.

Peter never did make it back to camp. Pansie.

I'll save the beaver story for another time. But I will say it has to do with a Beaver and a missing limb. A leg. The Beaver ate it. It wasn't my leg though. Whose was it? Jack's. It was Jack's leg. He was sleeping at the time, don't worry.

I'll save it for another time.


*he doesn't even know it and that makes it funnier