Bringing On The Crazy

People like to think that when a wrong is occurring, their internal moral compass will direct them to do the right thing, despite the possible ramifications.

Though I always thought I would step up in circumstances where others would run, my belief in myself was never put to the test – until today.

People do horrible things.  Since we’ve lived at The Ranch (1996), we’ve stumbled upon far too many examples. I won’t go into detail because I don’t want to.  I’ll just leave it with saying not all animals abandoned on the desert are left alive.  Gracy, Franky and Morty were some of the fortunate ones who were.

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Franky was dumped.  We’re ashamed to say we don’t know how long ago.  Maybe 5 years?
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Gracie was dumped 8 years ago.
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Morty the day he wandered into The Ranch in 2012.  Who knows how long he had to fend for himself after he was dumped.

Morty, Willy, Franky and Slugger were my 1st group out for Sunday Desert Walk.  Crabby was still in bed. Toward the end of the walk I watched a man in a pickup park on a trail in an area off limits to motor vehicles.  He pulled a rifle out of  his cab, and then wrestled a bag out of his truck bed.  He was too far away to tell if the bag was moving or not.

The man kept looking over his shoulder at me as he went down a trail.

Morty and Willy originally ran in his direction to greet him, but stopped short and ran back to my side, before I even had a chance to call them. That’s not normal.

The bells went off in my head – but I could not confront a man with a gun when I had the boys with me.  I rushed them home and returned to the scene, deliberately driving onto the desert parking behind the man’s truck.

I began walking in the direction the man had walked.  I went maybe a few hundred yards when I heard the scream – the scream of a dog in agony.  My walk became a sprint, leaving the trail and charging in what I could best determine was a straight line towards the source of the scream.

When I heard the second scream, still running,  I dialed 911.

I continued running, falling often on the rocky, uneven desert while alternating between screaming into the phone at the 911 operator and shrieking to the top of my lungs, that I had called the police, hoping the man would release the dog and run.

I crested 1 more ridge.  I fell again, dropping my phone, cutting off the 911 operator.  I looked around desperately for the dog being tortured.

Instead, I saw a very befuddled looking man peeking from behind the protection of a boulder.

“Is there a problem lady?” he asked with a shaky voice.

“You let that dog go!” I shouted, “I’ve called the police!”.

“Umm…  look behind you” he said.

And when I did, the sound of the tortured dog was nearly at my feet – coming from a speaker.

{This is NOT the same sound I heard earlier today, but I post the video  link to give you an idea of the type and loudness of the sound I heard.  You may want to turn your volume down before listening:

A variation of a coyote bait call

Now tell me, can you really blame me for my reaction?!?!?!}

Apparently, someone in their infinite wisdom decided that blaring the sounds of wounded animals from speakers was a nifty way to lure coyotes during coyote hunting season.  This unfortunate hunter in HIS infinite wisdom decided to use the sounds of wounded dogs as his sound of choice – in the very same area where locals, including this Crazy Dog Lady, walk their dogs regularly.

Seeing an upper middle aged woman barreling over the ridge, hair sticking out in all directions, entangled with various debris picked up from many falls,  body covered in cholla, while screaming up a storm apparently alarmed the hunter a wee bit because he then, with great desperation in his voice, informed me that he loves dogs, has 2 of his own and asked if I wanted to see their pictures.

When the armed man was convinced the unarmed crazy lady wasn’t going to hurt him, he quickly packed up his hunting gear and with great haste made his way back to his truck, I think we can all assume, never to return.

I learned something about myself today:

Apparently I WILL run head long, alone and unarmed, at a psyco with a loaded gun to help a dog.

While that may be all well and good, Crabby has requested that I refrain from doing so again in the future.

I can’t make any promises.

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Go ahead!  Try and harm a hair on my head! My Mommy will DROP you!

 

 

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30 thoughts on “Bringing On The Crazy

    1. Honestly, though it turned out to be a false alarm, I hope I never end up in that situation again. The screams lead me back to an event in my childhood where I couldn’t do anything. I don’t like going back there.

    1. If hunting by fair rules (no gadgets or tricks), and with respect (no potshots from a blind and if it isn’t a kill shot, oh well!) and for sustenance (waste no part), while I won’t be there when it’s happening, I don’t interfere.

      But if it’s killing because one can – there is no level low enough to describe those people.

  1. I have never understood the need some people have to go out to the open country and shoot things and call it sport. Probably some kind of “Man” thing I’m too much of a woose to understand anyway. I hate any cruelty to animals.

      1. If the hunter uses traditional methods, tracking, etc. to hunt game for food, respecting the game and wasting no part of the animal – perhaps it is a sport of sorts.

        But to play suffering animal sounds (in this instance) while hiding behind a boulder – that is not a sport. Besides – what does one do with a coyote once hunted?? If they live around us, the take a picture then leave the body. Definitely NOT a sport.

    1. We’re actually not as “open country” as people thing, ergo, not appropriate to be hunting here anyway. It’s not like we’re pitting man against the wilderness here since the closest roads are at most 1 mile away in the more remote areas.

      That said, people do. What really upsets me is when dove or quail season opens and a bunch of yahoos run around shooting anything that moves. A sad amount of these yahoos never even take the birds they kill.

      These are not “hunters” or “sportsmen”, they’re just people who want to kill something.

  2. You go girl …would be inclined to do the same..my heart takes me to places my brain would try and override..my closest calls are with incoming idiots who see a flailing woman and try and aim for her..i am fond of stopping mid traffic..hazard lights on to rescue wayward critters..all the while being abused..so far the only damage i nearly lost a finger to a King Parrot who despite being seriously injured gave me a great chomp…poor guy did not make it but he went not silently into the night..humans of course are an unknown!

    1. Perhaps it IS a flea infestation in my brain which causes me to act first, think about it later! Still, thinking about it later I still would have done the same thing.

      Had the man been an actual psycho with a gun… well, let’s not think about that.

  3. Oh my! You HAVE to be careful. Next time he/she may use the gun on you. Wow, you were lucky. I think I kept getting sicker and sicker to my tummy as I read. It’s one thing to barrel ahead, I’m with you, but you have to have a gun. You were lucky, very, very lucky. Whew…I’m exhausted now.

    1. In retrospect: Probably not a good idea. However…

      When I was a kid, we had these neighbors who liked to make trouble while at the same time claiming to be victims. One night to get the police to believe their house was broken into, they killed their doberman. In the street facing, lighted, open garage. It took a while. No one did anything to stop them. I still have flashbacks – indeed, when I heard what I thought was a dog crying yesterday I went back to that night when I was a child and no one did anything to save the doberman. I bet no one else even remembers him. But I never forgot him.

      1. Unfortunately, us animal people don’t ever forget pain. I’m sorry the dobie didn’t make it. There’s a special place in hell for people like that..right beside satan, lol.

  4. I know coyotes are on the ‘short list’ for various and sundried crimes but killing them just isn’t my DNA nor do I approve of coyote hunts. I applaud your crazy and encourage you to go crazy whenever necessary. Morty, Gracie & Frankly are the perfect examples of why it’s good. Bless you; here’s to having a safe and happy Thanksgiving. ❤

  5. Really wonderful writing, you took us on quite a ride there! Your gift of storytelling is almost as admirable as your tireless support for animals, thank you for sharing both!

  6. This is an amazing story and you are one brave lady. Don’t know what I would have done….I hope that I would have taken some action, even though I tend to be more caution and would probably have called 911 and then tried to sneak up on the person to see what they were up to. Your screaming was actually probably the safer way to go. Thank you for obviously caring for animals the way that you do.

    1. Do you think they should send me up to Oregon to chase Vanilla ISIS out of the wildlife refuge? I bet I could do it!

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