Back before I owned my own guns and we lived in the city, I had my own livestock.....backyard chickens. Now don't go messing with a woman's chickens, you don't know what kind of crazy she might be. One Sunday morning, while still in my long wooly housecoat (like old ladies wear) and my hair up in hot rollers, I hear the most awful commotion in the chicken yard. What in the world?
Now I need to pause for a minute and tell you, back then "My Superman" for some odd reason only left one gun and one shot gun shell accessible to me. I went out and seen the dreaded, most feared feathered beast known to chickens, the GREAT CHICKEN HAWK lurking in a tree behind my house I kinda went that Mama Bear crazy, ain't nothing messing with my chickens. So I grab the one and only shotgun I am allowed to touch but OH NO, I couldn't find the shot gun shell and time was ticking. I had chicken lives to save and things started in slow motion in my mind. Panic mode, I decide to go to place I had never been before. Superman's shotgun shell stash, how hard could it be to find a bullet to save my investment of chickens, right?
After carefully opening that sacred "Black Box" I was in for mass confusion all up in my head. Why hadn't I ask questions before, what color was the one he left me, what to do and what to pick. I began to glisten profusely (southern ladies don't sweat). Alas the light bulb went off, I remembered he had left me a yellow shell and all I had to do was grab a yellow one. Yeah buddy I am WOMAN hear me roar as I grabbed it and quickly loaded it in the gun.
I scurried as fast as I could with the granny robe and house slippers slowing me down a tad and that devil of a chicken hawk was still there, smirking at me. I got myself in a good position to shoot, not realizing that the neighbors could see me at this point. I slowly got a bead on that sucker and POP the gun wouldn't shoot. Oh yeah, that safety thingy wasn't pushed. Again I aimed up amongst him with the gun kind of going different directions, by this time I was shaking so bad that this was going to be hard. KABOOMMMMMMMM........and I saw feathers fly and then I saw the clear blue sky, I was laying flat of my back. That gun had kicked the dog mess outta me and there I laid, on the ground trying to recall did I shoot myself? Why was I on the ground? I quickly jumped up and checked myself for blood or broke bones and of course looked around to see if anyone was watching. My neighbors were getting in their car, they both had been watching and both smiled, waved and got in the car after I got up. Till this day I don't know what they thought nor do I need to, Loco comes to mind.
I regrouped my thoughts and went to look for the chicken hawk. SCORE!!! Feathers everywhere but no real sign of the hawk. I blew that sucker to smithereens. I did a little happy dance just like the touchdown dances of yesteryears on TV before people got all butthurt and they made them stop.
That afternoon when Superman got home, I was waiting on him to tell him I had saved my chickens. I also had to tell him I thought something was really bad wrong with either the gun or the yellow color coded shells. I even had the casing from the one I shot to show him. He listened to my story and just shook his head as he usually does when I get in messes. When he looked to see what I had used, I had used a #4 Buckshot, which evidently means I had used a cannon on that hawk. That explains how I ended up flat of my back looking at the clear blue sky. He went on to tell me that they aren't like garanimal kid clothes, they are not color coded. The yellow he had stashed for me was some kind of small critter load, I don't remember, bird shot, rat shot or something another.
I learned three valuable lessons that day. #1 educate myself on shot gun shells #2 don't let the neighbors catch you out doing such a thing, they will think your a little on the nutty side and I don't remember #3 but it was something important. I can tell you that MEN invented and control the shot gun shell world, if women had done it, they would be color coded in accordance with their kicking powers with red being the one to warn you that your about to get the crap kicked outta you.
No worries now, I have my own gun collection and I might know a little more than I did back in those days, but you never know. Fear the Mimi is all I say.