To my MoCo-HoCo-DMV (DC-MD-VA Metro vicinity for those who think DMV means long lines to get a license renewal) friends, I live in Kansas. There’s a horse farm behind me, I run by corn fields and sheep. Cows escape and walk in my back yard and I ask my dad if I can keep it. This is a foreign idea to them and they inform me quite frequently that I live in the boring boonies.
Most of the time I can say “touche, friends. Touche.” But today, I can say HA! As I was checking out my dad’s gutted 8 point buck hanging in our garage, I heard 4 sirens go off. A siren isn’t an uncommon sound seeing as the fire department is 3 miles away. However, this many so close is odd. I asked him when we moved to Baltimore and went back inside. Then we heard more. And after that, a helicopter. Well, the MD Medivac decided to land in my neighbor’s yard and the whole “neighborhood” came out to see the commotion. I yelled hi to my Medivac friends, though they have probably turned over people since I caught my ride in ’06.
This gentleman in a flannel shirt, ratty jeans and boots comes up to my dad, who’s in flannel camo, ratty jeans and boots and discusses the possible injury of this poor soul. Top of the list: Hunter fell out of a tree stand, Hunter got shot or just a measly heart attack.