In the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would write of one of my favorite, yet most gruesome stories. It is gruesome in my memory because it was traumatic to witness. However, I have found that as I have moved farther and farther way from the world of country living, it is the simple premise that makes most of my audience squirm. Thus, let me begin with a quick note that the rules of land as described herein are built on traditions and notions of protecting your livelihood. Over the years I have been conflicted deeply with these “rules” but as age brings conservatism, I find myself more open to accepting that it is, and will be “just the way things are.” I do not write this as an opener for debate about animal rights and cruelty or any version of urban defined country ignorance. It is story, true as to my memory, and I shall leave it at that.
