Gun Owners’ Responsibilities

On Feb. 15 about 5:10, as I stood in my driveway, a red Toyota pickup stopped across the street. The two young boys inside were white, about 17 or 18, well-groomed, good looking.

As I watched, one boy held a handgun out the side window, took aim and fired. I heard the sharp crack of the discharge and “thump” as the bullet struck home. I watched the bird, a large female dove, fall from the phone wires above. The boys squealed in elation, then drove off quickly. They proceeded down La Loma Drive toward Newport Avenue, then turned right on Arroyo Avenue headed toward Foothill Boulevard.

I think that whoever they are, they live in this area. If the kids or their parents are reading this, there’s something I want them to know. Doves mate for life. My elderly mother and I have been watching the same two doves pecking away happily in our front yard for the last three years. There’s only one left now; his mate died last night! He stayed up on the phone lines for hours, looking down at his mate. This morning he’s gone.

I’ve lived right here for the last 44 years. It used to be a lot different in the old days. Scattered ranches, orange and avocado groves, lima bean fields. Lemon Heights, where all the millionaires live, used to be rattlesnake country. Just cactus, sagebrush and ground squirrels.

I had a BB gun when I was 8, a .22 at 10 and a 30-06 during my teen years. I knew what guns were; I knew the rules and responsibilities involved. Never assume the gun is unloaded, never point the barrel at anything you do not intend to shoot, make sure you know where the bullet is going to end up before pulling the trigger.

But the most important rule: Never kill any living creature without reason. A blizzard trapped me for two weeks once in the mountains above Monroe, Utah. I shot rabbits to survive. That’s a reason!

What happened last night goes far beyond just being senseless and cruel. The young men will no doubt be married in a few years. Their wives-to-be have my deepest sympathy.

FRED HERMON, Santa Ana