A few years back, my cousin and I were driving down an old dirt road about 4 hours outside of the city. We come up across an old man trying to corral his cattle in a field. I pull over and tell my cousin to wait in the truck while I go find out if this kind looking old timer will let us hunt down in the creek bed on his land.

I get to talking to the old sun burned farmer, hoping that he'll let us get after some game. He tells me he's got an old mule near the front gate that's getting pretty sick. He couldn't afford to have it put down and didn't have the heart to do it himself.

"Tell you what young fella..." he says.
"If you put my poor mule out of its misery... I'll let you hunt on my property, just be respectful of the land."

I agree to the terms and head back to the truck with the good news... but first... I decided I'd play a little prank on my cousin.

I open the door and tell him, "that sorry old man won't let us hunt. He told me to get out of here or he's calling the sheriff. I never heard a mangy old man cuss like that before! I gotta get back at him..."

So I drove on down to the gate, seeing that sickly mule stand there like a statue, but flicking his ear every few seconds at the horse flies.

I pull out my rifle, step out of the truck, and put the scope on the tired mule.

"What the heck are you doing!" my cousin yells

"I'm gonna shoot his mule, nobody talks to me that way" I reply.


The mule falls over and I turn to see the expression on my cousin's face... but he wasn't in the truck as I had expected.


I turn toward the noise only to hear him yell as he runs back to the truck... "C'mon I got two of his cows!"

Never did get to hunt that day