I wore a t-shirt this morning from an organization which has zero tolerance for snares in the wild; Painted Dog Conservation. I drove to 711. A few men always gather near the coffee counter to talk; it is a routine. Their trucks idle outside and they wear camouflage clothing even when they’re just headed to the store. Ironically, they really do blend in here, especially near the shelves of chips and the display of Virginia Tech paraphernalia.
One of the two noticed my shirt. I was not part of this conversation; just the catalyst:
“Yeah I gotta get rid of my snares.”
“Ain’t using them?”
“Nah. They’re not good. They snap the legs right off the turkey and the damn things get far enough to die where I can’t find them.”
“I saw me some snares got grippers electronically hooked up to know how much to grab to hold them without snapping off the best part.”
“I heard of them. I sure did, down at that show in Richmond.”
“That’s where I saw ’em. They got a device will text me when the snare snaps.”
“Ain’t cheap I’m betting you.”
“Forty or so.”
“Ain’t bad. I’ll have to get some.”
They sipped their coffee. One asked how I was doing and that he liked my shirt. I honestly think he believed the shirt promotes snares. Though to be fair, it has a lot of words on it.
Him to the other guy:
“You ready for deer?”
“Almost. I needs me new collars for the dogs. Something with better range so I can track them right to the kill. I shot me one last year made it a mile before he collapsed. Damn dog collars were out of range and I had to hike out there looking. It was pouring out, like today.”
“Can’t wait to go huntin.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I opened the door to leave and I wished them a good day.
“Yeah, you too. See ya out there, brother!” one said. I walked to my car eating my vegetarian egg roll.