the twisted yarn

Knitting, crochet, running, and silliness.

Trying Hard Not To Get Shot

by 27 Comments

I hate getting caught in the middle of a shoot-out when I’m half-way through my run. (Or, indeed, at pretty much any stage of my run.)

Hang on, just let me do a bit more work on the giant crochet house/garden project (that REALLY is nearly finished). Gotta steady my nerves. Is it me, or do these attempts at daisies on the lawn resemble fried eggs? Sigh. Back to the drawing board.
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We live in the countryside, so like it or not, people shoot things and then eat them. (Sometimes they even cook them first.) It’s not at all uncommon to hear shots or to see spent cartridges lying in the mud. So as I ran the other morning, I didn’t pay much attention to the noise of a gun going off to my left, even though the sound was quite close. But meh, I was fine, right up until I started hearing shots close by to my right as well. Hmm, that wasn’t good.
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And at the same moment that I heard another shot, what I think was a partridge scuttled across the path not far ahead, then disappeared into the hedge. No I didn’t catch a photo, but here are some partridge loitering outside my parents’ house in the snow at Christmas a few years ago:-

OK, I didn't catch a pic of the partridge, so here are some partridge I photographed a few years ago in the snow on Christmas day at my parents' door. I failed in my efforts to persuade them to pose in a pear tree.
I tried and failed to persuade them to pose in a pear tree.

Back to the bird in hand (whose worth presumably halved as it dived into the bush). I’m not sure whether the partridge knew that it was theoretically safe because open season for most game birds is over by late spring. But you can’t blame it for not taking chances. And maybe whoever was firing those guns (neither of whom I could see) didn’t care about the law anyway, and just fancied a really tasty dinner. Whilst I did feel sorry for the partridge (which is hypocritical because I do eat meat), I was also increasingly not enjoying being near the thing that people were possibly trying to kill.

Being cursed with both an anxious disposition and a very active imagination (two traits that I suspect cruelly co-occur for quite a lot of folks), I began to worry about whether I’d get peppered with lead-shot by mistake. Not that I look much like a partridge, especially when I’m wearing fluorescent snot-coloured lycra running gear, but not being an especially competent athlete, my scurrying scamper could, at speed, perhaps be mistaken for the gait of a partridge. I slowed down as I got close to where I’d seen the bird.

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Maybe I should have turned round and gone back the way I’d come, rather than risking crossing the poor partridge’s path, but that would have meant running a very long way, and I’m cursed with an anxious disposition, a wild imagination, AND LAZINESS. So I carried on.

I passed the exact point where I’d last seen the bird, and managed not to get shot. Well that was a plus.

But what if the two shooters were actually sworn enemies, taking a pop at each other from either side of my path? I slowed down, not wanting to confuse these still-invisible adversaries.

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And then, the most worrying thought of all… What if – and you’ll have to bear with me whilst I explain a little – they were such experienced marksmen that they’d started going deaf from all those years of noisy guns (although such experience would also have made them terrifyingly skilled shots)? So when the organizer-person-thingy had said to them that morning, “Go shoot some pheasant,” what they’d mistakenly heard was, “Go shoot some peasants,” in which case I was doomed, not having a single aristocratic bone in my body.

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I speeded up again. All that high-viz clothing made me rather an obvious target. Camouflage would only have been an option if I’d been running through either (i) a tulip field, or (ii) a children’s soft-play area. So all I could do was try to run in a very fast and very non-peasanty way. I’m not sure I really succeeded at either of those, but I managed to get home unscathed… where I found a bunch of red kites circling in the sky above our driveway, sensing my exhaustion and clearly anticipating imminent carrion after all this carry-on.

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“Pick on someone your own size,” I growled at them, which to be fair was pretty much what they were doing, because I’m not very tall and those birds’ wingspan is BIG.

But at least I was home. And I realized that I’m cursed with anxiety, an overactive imagination, laziness, AND STUPIDITY.

And hey, at least I didn’t get shot.

As far as I know, the partridge lived to waddle another day.

Comments

    • Oops. Hope you’re not too traumatised. Running is rubbish: I don’t recommend it. It hurts. Don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise.

      Reply

      • Haha, I’ve never had the gun thing happened, but all the thoughts you had are just like me, especially the ones way out in left field.
        Also, don’t worry, I won’t try running.

        Reply

      • Good. Wise decision. It’s a dangerous world out there for those of us with over-active imaginations.

        Reply

  4. Anxiety, check, imagination, check… I can’t imagine hearing shots while out running! I probably would have lost my head and broken the four-minute mile. And we do have open land just over the hill where people go to shoot geese. Yikes!

    Reply

    • Breaking the four-minute mile? Well at least you’re not cursed with laziness, then. (People shoot geese? Isn’t that a bit… easy? Also not very pleasant for the geese, obviously.)

      Reply

  5. Thank goodness all I’m thinking about whilst running is what to cook for dinner. I’m not enough ‘countryside’ to have to worry about being shot. Too many tourists would get caught in the crossfire anyway. X

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  6. It is very unnerving when you’re out in the glorious quiet countryside and you get rocketed out of your own little world by the sound of a gun going off! We’ve had it when we’ve been walking and yes there’s wildlife getting out of the way and yes we humans just follow the footpath regardless fingers firmly crossed that we’re not in the line of fire!!
    Glad you got home unscathed Phil and hopefully your future runs will be more peaceful.

    Reply

  7. Wow, I never realised that it was such a common occurrence. Typical naive city-type that I am! Glad you’re okay and you got some amazing photos to boot. Fingers crossed for the waddling partridge!

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  8. “Go shoot some peasants”. Sorry, I am very sure this was a scary moment but I did have a good laugh-out-loud moment to start my day. Be careful out there!

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  9. I see your conundrum. I too share an anxious disposition and an active imagination. At the first sound of gunshot I would be transported to the deep south and the next logical sound I would hear would be that of a lone banjo. I think if I was jogging along sedately at this time, I would promptly decide to learn to sprint…STAT! I just read a bit further. You took the logical progression. Good girl. You lived to trot another day (as did the partridge by the sound of it). I think I am writing this blog post in comment form, retrospectively. I think I will stop while I am ahead. Glad you didn’t get shot. That would have meant I would only have 334 blogs in my RSS Feed Reader, an altogether unsavoury number in my opinion. Cheers for staying alive.

    Reply

    • Ah, but I see from your Facebook feed that you’ve just added an extra blog to your reader, so I’m now redundant and will not cause you the displeasure of 334 if I’m shot. (I may have to seek out this additional blogger and assassinate her, even if she does make lovely vegan quiche.)

      Reply

  10. “all I could do was try to run in a very fast and very non-peasanty way. ” That floored me. And that you point out that disposition..I will add stubbornness to my variety – believing this is mINE alone and I am so so special and poor me because of it.
    Ah. Busted . Thanks. And for those photos too with that bkue blue skay in those blue blue puddles. Pure joy

    Reply

  11. I admit. I laughed. Despite the situation. Glad you’re safe. I grew up in the country and had a close call involving hiding behind a giant tractor wheel. But those were deer hunters. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
    Heather

    Reply

  12. Congratulations on not getting shot! Well done. 🙂 I’m afraid my own lazy tendencies might have convinced me to give up trotting altogether as being much too dangerous.

    Reply

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