By Andy Anderson

I walked into a local, small-town café where the tables didn’t match, the history of the area covered the walls from floor to ceiling and the smell of fresh hot coffee and home style cooking filled the air. The old timers of the area were gathered at a table in the back of the dining room talking and sharing stories, giving free advice to solve any problem you may have or a salty opinion should you ask for one.

As I found a table, slid the chair back to have a seat, the waitress set a coffee cup down and filled it to the brim. Time seemed to slow down; peace set in as I looked over the menu even though I already knew what I was going to have. Not too much attention was paid to my presence by the table of patriarchs seated behind me. They glanced over at me and carried on with their conversation. I guess I fit the part.

About that time a couple of young men, about 16 years of age, burst into the café. Loud and abrupt as they enter, they just stood in the doorway for a few moments. The waitress advised them to sit anywhere they liked. A quick glance at the hair on their faces, skinny jeans and tennis shoes, it was obvious they were not from around here. About that time, a low grumble sounded from the table behind me, “Y’all can sit up front there.” The young men sat at the table next to the door, minding the advice given.
Shortly afterwards I heard the men discussing the wild hog problem in the area, and my name came up as the helicopter guy. I turned and introduced myself and was quickly invited over to their table.

As we discussed helicopter hog hunting, the young men decided they should advise us that shooting pigs from a helicopter is not hunting, its murder. Well, use your imagination as to the response returned their way and about how much anyone cared about their opinion. The young men got the point and soon departed the café.

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