An Open-Season Blood Sport

By Ron McFarland

This late June rain has really brought out the slugs in our Idaho Panhandle yard. Armed with my deadly saltshaker, I nailed 115 last night. Noticing a couple on the sidewalk this morning, I made another round and salted down an additional fifty-two. Great hunting! The thrill of the chase, bloody good sport. If Hemingway were still among us, I should be proud to take him on safari in our damp and shady yard. I ran through the whole saltshaker last night. Note to self: must invest in an extended-capacity magazine.

For our tenth anniversary, I think it was, Georgia bought me a state-of-the-art saltshaker, clear glass so that one could tell whether it was sufficiently loaded, and equipped with a little handle. Unfortunately, after several years of good service, this fine piece broke, and I was compelled to replace it. At a Good Will outlet, I bought a pair of shakers (providing a useful backup piece), in the form of Mark Twain souvenirs from Hannibal, Missouri. These fine arms (Made in USA) have lower capacity than my previous saltshaker, and I cannot tell when they are about to run out of ammo, but they have the advantage of high muzzle velocity, as the salt pours from a single hole.