Here in Northern Indiana (and, I suspect, in neighboring states) it's an all out death match as various shroomers scour the woodlands in search of the elusive (but very tasty) Morel Mushroom. Season only lasts from about the end of April to the middle of May. Already just about got in a fight with my idiot neighbor over which side of the fence I was on--the inbred hick saw my sister's car parked at the foot of my driveway, saw us out in the woods close to his side of the property line (but on MY SIDE of the half collapsed fence, damn it!), and came stomping out and yelling, thinking we were trespassing poachers. I tried telling the fur-faced puke who I was, tried explaining our position, but he would have none of it--just kept yelling at us in his testosterone-warped warble, basically calling us liars.
Now, I detest violence, and will avoid it at all costs; especially if said violence is the result of something so pointless as mere mushrooms. But to be called a liar, and threatened, on MY OWN PROPERTY, and with my sister present...well, no sir. I told him to come on over, by God, and we'd settle the damn issue right then and there. My fur was bristling, I was about a second away from going Wolvie-Beserk on the redneck. He either finally recognized me, or (I'd like to think) was scared away by my angry Gunslinger tone. Probably the former.
Anyhoo, Morels are serious business around here. That's how good they are. Just lightly roll in flour, fry in butter, pinch of salt--a taste worth fighting for, apparently.
Now, I detest violence, and will avoid it at all costs; especially if said violence is the result of something so pointless as mere mushrooms. But to be called a liar, and threatened, on MY OWN PROPERTY, and with my sister present...well, no sir. I told him to come on over, by God, and we'd settle the damn issue right then and there. My fur was bristling, I was about a second away from going Wolvie-Beserk on the redneck. He either finally recognized me, or (I'd like to think) was scared away by my angry Gunslinger tone. Probably the former.
Anyhoo, Morels are serious business around here. That's how good they are. Just lightly roll in flour, fry in butter, pinch of salt--a taste worth fighting for, apparently.
