Moles can play hob with fledgling tomato plants in your garden, but they are beneficial to the raising of doubts and raised eyebrows in the humanity that swarmeth the land area of Mother Earth.

Back yonder on January 11, 2007, I chronicled the adventures of a band of merry men that smacks of Robin Hood and his gang.  It featured Clayton, Brad, Alan, David, Kent and Roger.  Click here to check it out.

Welsir, that genealogy is yet alive and well, and a rerun of sorts has come to my attention.  An assemblage of De Leon High School escapees were released with time off for good behavior.  They are Hunter, Kevin, Cody, Taner and Brodie.  One-half are sons of guns to the original cast of commandos, so it’s fair to say that they descend from seasoned timber.  They were armed to the teeth with firepower and on the prowl for the feral swine that lay waste to row crops and the verdant stands of pecan growth of the area.

A drive through of the targeted area yielded streaking skunks, raucous raccoons, a great white and a unicorn, but no cracklings on the hoof.  Such is life, so they cast anchor and bidded their time.

Hunter manned the spotlight from the pickup bed and Brodie held the power source together in the cab.  Taner boldly alit and wandered into the darkness armed and operating a game call guaranteed to draw wild game from adjacent counties, as Hunter methodically swept the acreage with the spotlight.  It was equipped with a red filter to not arouse the migratory urges of the game.  An eerie scenario to be real honest.

The game call went silent and the sound of hawg communication took center stage.

“I just heard a hog grunt,” Hunter gasped.  Kevin and Cody nodded their agreement.  Taner held his ground like the Rock of Gibraltar.  That is, until the muted glow of the light fell upon two black masses charging directly toward Taner’s outpost.

“What in tarnation was that?” said Taner, who dropped his game call and made a run for the truck.  “Shoot ‘em!” Hunter screamed as the swine changed direction and struck out for the timber line.  Cody strove manfully to figure out the safety on Brodie’s gun as Taner accelerated his sprint and screamed in terror and anguish.

He collided with the pickup and clawed his way to safety.  The collision and laughter rocked the vehicle and fatalities were held to zero.  Taner was the sole member who saw no humor in the situation.

They made another stab or two at a repeat of the drill, but outbursts of laughter broke the spell each time.  The water haul was completed and the gang dispersed and returned to the safety of their respective abodes.

They did not bring home the bacon, but they are partners in a boyhood frolic that will grow with recounting as the years accumulate.

The game was game, but so were the nimrods.  Their parents should be proud of those lads.

I will not reveal the mole who leaked these details, since they outnumber me and know where I live.

C’est plus quun crime, c’este une faute —as the French used to say.  For Jerry: it is worse than a crime, it is a blunder.

Let me hear from you.

My phone number is 254-893-5063.

My postal address is 333 W. Ayers, De Leon TX 76444.

You can e-mail me at chupp@charleschupp.com.

By Charles Chupp, Copyright ©2008 Charles Chupp