Chas, that reminds me of a swamp story. A man came up on a small boy in the swamp picking up a fresh kilt squirrel. The boy didn't notice the man, but the man noticed the boy had no gun, so he decided to watch him awhile. After a few minutes, a squirrel poked his head out of nest in a Pecan tree and the boy made a deadly throw of a ball bearing with his left hand. The squirrel fell and the boy walked over and picked the bearing and the squirrel up with his right hand. The stranger emerged and asked the boy why he threw with his left hand, when it was obvious that he was right handed. The boy just grinned, and said "Pa says I tear'em up too bad if'n I throw right handed".
When I lived there we leased squirrel hunting rights, and used 12 guage shotguns. The squirrels were terrible wild down there, and you had to still hunt them just like a deer. When I moved up to Kansas I thought I'd found paradise. Nobody squirrel hunted and there were big Fox Squirrels everywhere you looked. It didn't take me long to figure out the ones out of hedge trees weren't near as tender or tasty as the ones out of the Pecan groves in LA.
