Today I read an article entitled, “Florida Man, 83, Shot Neighbor in Heated Dispute About Ducks and Geese, Daughter Says”. Talk about your click bait. Naturally I had to read this article.
I pretty much have to read every article that starts off with the phrase “Florida Man”. I lived in Florida for 40 years. I know how some of the more lunatic fringe Florida men can be. So I sigh, but read on, sort of like I sigh but slow down to gawk at a traffic accident. I can’t seem to help myself.
I can understand disagreeing with a neighbor who is feeding animals that a) produce a half pound of disease-bearing feces per day, b) cause property damage, and c) are perfectly capable (or should be) of feeding themselves. It can even be argued that whatever you’re feeding these birds is probably causing them a lot of health issues, and is therefore cruel.
But shooting someone over it? Seriously? That’s a scary, scary man.
I’m not someone who has a gun. I really don’t like them. I don’t like to be anywhere near them. And I don’t see any positive result from owning one. If you’re not using them, they’re just stuff that used to be money that is taking up space, and if you are using them, very little good comes from it. I can’t imagine shooting another human being unless they’re shooting at me first.
Here’s a promise. I will never, ever, ever shoot you based on your stance about ducks. If we disagree, let’s chat about it. If that doesn’t work, let’s go to court. But as sure as I’m typing here, I can guarantee that I’m not shooting you over a duck. Even if someone puts the loaded gun in my hands, cocked and ready to go. It will never happen. I set the attempted murder bar a bit higher than that.
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The View from a Drawbridge 
I have a mother and a cousin who both have guns; the latter is an ex-cop. Both haven’t fired one in eons. And both, when talking about their guns to someone, have inadvertently swept the business end across my sector of space. This I do not like. “Sell the damn things,” I said. This might happen soon, I’m hoping.
I’ll stick with trebuchets.
I’m with you, Angi.