A riddle

Question:  What happens  every year about this time, that
- gives Molly bad gas?
- causes Ryland to break out of the dog yard into the pasture?
- causes Molly and the boys to stay out in the pasture much longer than normal on their daily romps?
- brings us large birds (which Trooper hates)?

(answer below)

Our lower pasture, uncut

Answer:  A dead deer in the pasture. 

Thora from her high platform, overlooking the upper pasture

It never fails.  Every year when hunting season starts, rednecks go into the woods with a beer in one hand and a rifle in the other in an effort to compensate for a small penis.  If they don't shoot each other Dick Cheney style, they shoot at anything that moves, even if they don't have a clear shot and a steady hand.  The result is a wounded deer that they are too lazy or inept to track. 

Every year a wounded deer makes it into our fenced pasture but is unable to get back out.  They eventually succumb to the wound or stress themselves to death running along and into the pasture fence.  The dogs inevitably find the carcass and begin to devour it, with assistance from a gathering of buzzards.  Although they could pick up some parasites from the dead deer, the most common problems are upset digestion, bad gas, and refusing to come back in when called. 

Zachary in the freshly mowed upper pasture

Now I'm not entirely anti-hunting.  Deer have no predators to speak of other than automobiles and they are worse than Catholics when it comes to using effective contraception.  Likewise, rednecks have no natural predators other than guns and alcohol, so an annual thinning of the herd is a good thing for both.

Nero, lower pasture, heading toward the dead deer

However, I don't have much use for those whose idea of "hunting" is to sit on their fat asses in their pickups on the edge of a field to shoot deer being chased towards them by a pack of half-starved hunting dogs that they released on the other edge of a piece of property.  If those folks shoot themselves, it's nothing but a win-win situation.  Those folks never seem to look for the dogs who go missing during their day of "sport."  Those dogs end up in shelters where they often die.  A lucky few get adopted, of course, but the odds of a happy ending for a hound in a rural shelter during or after hunting season are not good. 

As for me, I'm letting Ryland show me where he's getting out of the dog yard fence and I'm making repairs.  The rest of the pack will stay in the dog yard, kennels, and/or house, until the buzzards finish their work and the sound of gunfire is gone.
 

p.s.  Parts of this are tongue-in-cheek, but I'm dead serious about every word in the penultimate paragraph (and some other parts as well).  The pictures are all from our pasture but are not really topical, just something to break up the text.