People around here carry guns. You don’t leave the village without one. It’s called common sense.
The other day, my husband and I passed a guy with a rifle strapped to the front of his four-wheeler. I made a comment about hunting, and my husband laughed. The guy had a fishing pole tied on too. He was going fishing…the gun was just the usual traveling companion. Same thing holds true for berry picking, hiking, or strolling along the beach…you just don’t go unless you are armed.
The bears around here are plentiful, big, and not always shy. They look like giant adorable balls of fluff, but they come armed with long claws and sharp teeth. And if it’s a mama with her cub…watch out!
One berry picking trip my husband and I started together, and just kind of spread apart.
Sometime later, I heard what sounded like a bear and her cub hollering. I looked around and realized that I’d been following a bear trail. And I happened to be standing in a flattened spot where a bear had slept. I had no idea where my husband was—and he had the gun.
That put an end to separate berry picking. I told him that either we stuck together or I get the gun. Since I’m a lousy shot, we decided it would be better to stick together.
A few weeks ago, we went picking blueberries with some friends. It was funny watching this big burly fisherman balancing a baby on one shoulder and a gun on the other. A modern-day Renaissance man.
Our friends Marvin and Sevilla and their baby.
Our friend Heidi dumping water from her rubber boot after falling in a hole.
Heidi picking berries.
Our beautiful area
Keri and I picking berries
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