There were two feeders crouching over his garden that morning.
“Goddammit,” Anton said as he reached for his carbine.
He peered through the window to see if there were any lurkers and then unlocked the gun hatch in the center of the back door.
“You assholes! Get off my garden!” he cried, aiming the rifle at them.
The two ignored his imprecations even as the sound of their chewing came clear to him. Read the rest of this page »