old made new

This morning sometime between five and seven I was awakened by the sound of a gunshot.

In my old apartment, I would have mentally bolted upright (though physically remained inert) and tried to calculate how far away the shot came from and listened intently for the wailing of sirens indicating police involvement and therefore the commitment of a crime. I would have sweated in bed until I knew that things had calmed down. I may have arisen and sneaked about my apartment in the dark, clutching Patsy (my shotgun) and peering out the windows.

(Note: Many of you probably already know this, but in the event that you don't: If there's something dangerous going on outside, or you're worried that something dangerous is going on outside, turn off your lights. If you have to look out your windows, make sure your house is completely dark before you do. It increases your ability to see outside, and hugely decreases anyone's ability to see in. Staying away from the windows is better, but a darkened house is always a good idea. Show your face in the window with a light on, even if the light is in another room, and you present a wonderful target.)

This morning, however, I dragged one eye open and concentrated for a second before groggily thinking, "November fifteenth. Oh yeah. First day of hunting season." And went right back to sleep.

Small town living is the best -- I'm so unconcerned for my physical safety (though, yes, I still lock all my doors; I'm not that unconcerned) that I allow my rational brain to kick in before plunging into a world of instinct and my years of training as a cop's daughter.

And where I'm living is closely on the border of country living, so there are always people in the woods. Even the horses across the street were unconcerned by the shot reports. And the cops might be the ones taking a day off to go hunting.