Originally Posted by Dixiepatriot
I was riding on a dirt road with my Dad and there was a quail walking about 30 yards ahead of us. He jumped out and picked up a rock and threw it. Hit the bird right on the back of the head and killed it.

When I was a kid - my grandpa and uncle took me behind my grandparents house to go squirrel hunting. I had my trusty .410 single shot and a pocket full of shells.

My uncle started talking crap about when he was my age (I must have been about 7 or 8) - my grandpa would only give him and my dad 3-rocks each and they better come home with 5-squirrels or they'd get a "whooping". I looked at my grandpa and he just smiled (I don't believe the man ever told a lie his entire life - so he didn't open his mouth), in a couple of minutes we saw a squirrel on a limb in an oak tree. I told my uncle to grab a rock and kill the squirrel and he said, "there are no good hunting rocks around here - but, I'll give it a try." As God is my witness - he threw that rock and knocked that squirrel out of the tree, stomped on its head and grabbed his hind legs and broke its neck.

A little while later - we see another squirrel in a tree and I ask him again to get a rock and kill the squirrel. He said something like, "I didn't climb this hill to kill squirrels, I climbed this hill to watch you kill squirrels."

Last edited by Hunting-231; 06/21/26 08:00 PM.
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