Since the gun has arrived, hubby can often be found wandering around the place searching for his next victim. He is a cross between Elmer Fudd, and a game keeper. In fact, more Elmer Fudd, but he is happy and does seem to be shooting the right animals.
Every time he grabs the gun I find myself shouting, "don't shoot the goats, chickens, ducks, dogs, cats or children" Not that he would ever intententionally shoot one of these but it makes me feel better knowing that I have advised him on the correct animals to be killing.
There is often evidence of his shooting spree, as he tends not to go and investigate what he he has shot, and we often find dead pigeons laying around. Even a polite conversation of "will you please, pick up your dead animals" is falling on deaf ears.
The only animal that he has bothered to go and retrieve was a massive rat that he shot, and in true "man" style we had to have pictures of the dead animal. An egg was used for a size comparison, and then the delightful picture was sent to friends and family. Oh well, he is helping with the vermin issue, and men will be men after all.