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Old 04-24-2011, 01:10 AM   #1
Desert Rat
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Default Vicarious Hunting

Any "vicarious hunters" here in the bunker? Before anyone shakes their head and tries to give me any "no" bull shit, let me refresh everyone's memory what the word Vicarious means.

Adjective
1. Performed, exercised, received, or suffered in place of another, as in vicarious punishment.
2. Taking the place of another person or thing; acting or serving as a substitute.
3. A felt or enjoyed experience through imagined participation in the activities of others, as in a vicarious thrill.


I wish I had a dollar for every post I've seen here where someone bragged about their dog killing this or that. And some of our cat lovers brag about their feline's prowess as well.

Anyone here hunt with falcons and such? Of course it's the falcons that do the actual hunting while the owner stands there with his thumb up his butt enjoying "hunting vicariously" through his bird.

What about the guy who pauses on his daily rounds to watch what happens when an ant stumbles on a caterpillar's trail?

You get the idea and most of you are ready to confess your enjoyment at hunting this way. No problem. It's an ancient activity almost as old as hunting itself.

But late in life when my opportunities for hunting fell far short of my desire to hunt, I began turning to this form of hunting and discovered it can be terribly fascinating and may reveal worlds and things about life you never dreamed.

Meet my friends "Lothar and Manfred," named after characters from a Wilbur Smith book.

I discovered these guys one night out on the back deck of my house in the country. I liked to sit out at night and enjoy the stars and the quiet. But one night I flipped on the outside floodlights to look for something-or-other. It was then I spotted a big, beautiful spider web in the corner of the deck's lattice roof above my head. The web was so pretty and sparkly, back-lighted by the floods, that I sat back down to admire it for a minute. I took a little time to look for the spider who made it but as is often the case, he wasn't around. Not all spiders sit in the middle of their webs hoping for a meal.

Just about then a moth, drawn by the nearby floodlight came wobbling by and smashed into the web. ZAP that's when I met Lothar. One second he wasn't to be seen and in the next he came charging across his web, killed the moth and wrapped it in silk so fast that I wasn't believing what I'd seen.

Rather than pause to eat, he pranced away to the shadows of the lattice work.

Wow, that was neat, I thought. I was lucky to have witnessed it. As I sat there pondering the universe and the great unfairness that I wasn't rich and famous, ....along flutters another dumb moth heading for the light and love or whatever moths find so attractive about flames.

The tragic story told above was repeated with lightening speed. Everything I thought I knew about spiders was suddenly getting murky in my little brain. I have watched the fuzzy devils creep along a wall or a floor and usually rewarded them with swift and terrible death. And I had seen them gruesomely feasting on a kill. But I had never witnessed one in full hunting mode, charging something or making the kill. Watching one do what they really do was an education for sure.

Later some wasp, unable to sleep, went out for a little night flight and got tangled in Lothar's web. But this time he didn't show as the wasp fought to get free. Crafty Lothar knew exactly what and where the wasp was. And he knew the danger of such prey. Why bother with easier game afoot?

By the time the wasp tore free and went angrily back to his nest, the web was pretty well trashed and I waited some time for Lothar to come repair things. But he didn't. He liked to stay invisible and he still had two kills hung up.

Finally, I went to bed, content with my vicarious hunt and sneaking into Lothars' world for an hour. In the morning the web, the bodies and all trace of the carnage were gone.

That night when I went out on my deck, I flipped on the light and everything was back. Another beautiful web. No Lothar to be seen. All was well. Eagerly I pulled up my chair and watched almost the same drama play out above me...except Lothar made three kills.

And when I started for the house and bed, I spotted an identical web across the opposite corner. One fresh kill hung in it. This was the handiwork of Manfred, Lothar's twin brother.

I came to know both of them very well over the days that followed. I even made a determined effort and found where Lothar hid out during the daylight hours. These two guys were cagey SOB's and lived the life of invisible men. You saw them only for seconds at night if you saw them at all.

I never knew what the hell kind of spiders they were and I tried pretty hard to find out. They weren't the glorious orb spiders who built grand webs and sat proudly in the middle of them even during most of the daylight hours.

But Lothar and Manfred were just as good and could zing out a perfectly useable web in less than 20 minutes. A couple of early evenings I caught Lothar building his nightly trap.

About all I can tell you about my "hunting spiders" is they were about 1 1/2" in diameter...maybe a bit larger. They charged their prey like lions and they came to kill. Unlike real lions, Lothar and Manfred had an impressive success ratio, although sometime something would struggle free...which seemed to really piss them off.

And whatever the relationship between the two spiders, they were totally territorial and never stepped across the line into each others domain.

All good things come to an end and after many nights of wild exhibitions of spiderly prowess, they vanished as they had lived. I never saw either again. But I never forgot them and never would have gotten into a cage with either. They were wild and dangerous like I'd never seen before. And they lived right outside my back door.

This was the incredible thing about vicarious hunts. You could "live" some unbelievable adventure just by watching...a dog...a cat...a hawk...or even a "lowly" spider. They are all hunters and killers. Some just better at it than others.

Now tell me you're not a vicarious hunter. Or better yet, admit you are and tell me of your hunting adventures.
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Old 04-24-2011, 09:57 AM   #2
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Um...
"Outdoor Life" and "Field and Stream" as I lay in bed, letting my eyes get drowsy.
I could fall asleep, in the middle of an article and finish it, my way, in a dream.

I especially like the stories, at the end of "Outdoor Life" that ended in "proof" of the telling.
"...and this is the very skillet I fried that wiley ten pound trout in that I consumed myself in one sitting, because I was so tired after that three hour fight bringing him in."
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Old 04-24-2011, 11:29 PM   #3
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I think you're right, 10B. I seem to have put the lads to sleep with this thread. I do confess one of my many flaws is thinking too much. Having spent 23,000+ hrs of my life strapped in a patrol plane all by myself, 99% of all I had to do was think. My brain could fly and do the job with the remaining 1%. As a result I got into the habit of thinking of the damnedest things. But at least it kept me from going totally insane. (Although some folks I know would argue the point.)

A cyber beer with you, sir!
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Old 04-24-2011, 11:55 PM   #4
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I'll accept the cyber beer and up you a cyber shot of Wild Turkey!

Haven't had a real one of either since 1980.
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Old 04-25-2011, 12:05 AM   #5
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I'll accept the cyber beer and up you a cyber shot of Wild Turkey!

Haven't had a real one of either since 1980.
You and I were born to suffer, 10B.
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Old 04-25-2011, 12:10 AM   #6
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You and I were born to suffer, 10B.
We all were, one way or another.

I'm off to bed, catch ya tomorrow!
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Old 04-25-2011, 12:22 AM   #7
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We all were, one way or another.

I'm off to bed, catch ya tomorrow!
Obviously a simple mind is an easy thing to influence cause I'm getting sleepy as hell now that you mentioned it. See you at the dawn campfire.
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Old 04-25-2011, 01:24 PM   #8
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Well, last year I took my kids out chuck hunting with me. Older daughter almost got one, damn if it didn't make me proud. To be fair, a young chuck at 80 yards isn't an easy shot offhand for a young lady. Especially with her dad's 10lb varmint gun. But she tried.
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Old 04-25-2011, 07:11 PM   #9
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My cat was a pretty good pocket gopher killer. He had quite a body count before the coyotes (or owl) got him.

He'd show the dog where to dig, then sit to the side and wait for the gophers to pop up to fill the hole back in, then he'd hood the little bastards and throw them in the air and pounce, and the fight was on. He got bloodied more than once, but he loved the hunt.

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Old 04-26-2011, 12:30 PM   #10
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Cats are fascinating hunters to watch. The problem is they like to do most of it at night when we can't see diddly. But some like to display their body count on your doorstep......or are they trying to feed our dumbasses? I never could figure out their motive.
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Old 04-26-2011, 12:44 PM   #11
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Cats are fascinating hunters to watch. The problem is they like to do most of it at night when we can't see diddly. But some like to display their body count on your doorstep......or are they trying to feed our dumbasses? I never could figure out their motive.

The Cat's Diary

Day 983 of My Captivity

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now ...
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Old 04-26-2011, 07:42 PM   #12
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More truth to that than we know, I suspect.
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