{eye roll}

So, dove hunting season started this week. My brother, K, brought down his 4 year old son, C, for his first hunting trip. My dad, K, and C all went out together for a lovely all morning kill-fest. They all took a break in the middle of the day. In the late afternoon K and C were playing NCAA football on Play Station, dad decided to go out hunting again - by himself. About 30 minutes later K and C head out to join him for round 2 of "kill birds that are life partners". Ten minutes later I get a call from my dad. For brevity d=Dad, k=me. The following is how our conversation transpired:

ring-ring!

k:hello?
d: bring me more shotgun shells
k: i don't know where the shot gun shells are
d: look in the kitchen
k: not there, i think they're in K's truck
d: where's K?
k: i thought he was down there with you
d: oh, damn, there go some more! {that would be doves flying over his head}
d:i need more shot gun shells! i only have a few more!
k: i don't know what to tell you

d: {blah blah blah, ramble ramble}
d: uh-oh
k: what?
d: hang on
{pause}
d: i'm standing next to a rattlesnake

k: what?!!!

d: {shotgun pops going off}

k: dad?!
d: it's ok, it doesn't have a head anymore
k: oh, well that's good

-end of call after more chitchat and assurance that i indeed do not have the shotgun shells-

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you my father. The man who has the inane talent of getting within life threatening distances of poisonous reptiles. This was round two, by the way. A couple of months ago he stuck his hand within five inches (unknowlingly) of a rattlesnake that was taking a nap in the flower garden. This time he manages to be standing within a couple of feet of one. At least he saw it, at least this snake, too, was napping, and at least he was armed. The snake was about four feet long, and had maybe 15 rattles on it. At least we don't live in India where cobras decide to nap in people's laundry baskets. Gosh.