Alf the Wonder Beagle roams the high veldt in search of the legendary "bacon."
So we're walking Alf on a really nice trail...I'm huffing along uphill when I place my foot down next to a stick...with a triangular head and a nice pattern of diamonds along its 2-foot length.
"Oh crap," I whisper, instantly achieving a Zen level of stillness while s...l...o...o...o...w...l...y reaching for the gun. Then I notice that Mr. Snake isn't buzzing, in fact, hasn't even gone to coil. I look along his length and don't see rattles — and, yes, I know there's the occasional rattler without them — so I do a little twosey-step to get clear, grab a stick, poke him in the butt and away he goes. Alf never notices, as the Stick That Moves wasn't "bacon."
BTW, here's a crummy picture of a really "cute" gun, a Ruger Single Six .22 cut to 3-inches and fitted with a birdshead gripframe:
I picked it up yesterday from a local operation, The Mountain Gunsmith, and Paul did an excellent job turning out a nice little packin' pistol. This weekend I'm putting together a crossdraw holster for it.