One of my favorite trapping/hunting stories goes something like this:
My dad and I were out hunting varmints when a skunk shows up about 20 yards away in a clover field. My dad had a .17 HMR and I had a .243 Winchester. So dad takes a shot at the skunk. Bam! And the skunk jumps in the air and squirts out a stream of green "juice." The skunk does a couple of wheelies as dad fires of a few more rounds. (Thankfully this gun had a 10 round clip.) So then the skunk decides to run. Straight at us! It's getting closer and closer, and dad can't seem to hit it. I yell, "dad, give me the HMR! Quick!" For some reason he wasn't handing me the gun, and meanwhile the skunk is closing the distance between us. So, I get behind the scope of the .243 and prepare to blast the skunk to smithereens. Then dad hands me the HMR, with only 2 or 3 rounds left in it. The skunk is at 5, 4, then 3 yards away, as I jack a round into the chamber of the .17. Bam!! The skunk drops dead, and I take a deep breath. Not a good idea. As I fill my lungs with the nice skunky smell, we decide to vacate the area. I went out back where I had a 1.5 coilspring set for skunky things. Sure enough, there was a skunk in this trap. So I shoot it and voila, I have 2 nice skunks sitting around stinking up the air.
The end.
BTW nice story Husky!
