You go huntin' Woody with a shotgun, he gets skittish at 100 yards and
goes into the burrow. So today I'm a walkin' down the east fence row,
armed with nothing but tree pruners, and lo-and-behold, there's ol'
fat Woodrow at 40 feet .... 30 feet ... 20 feet, lookin' at me
curiously. The frustration boiled over and I threw the damn pruners
at him. Missed, naturally, and he casually entered the burrow.

It just ain't fair.

BroJack