As you most likely know, I love hunting and I love guns. I’ve hunted for years, and while I can distinctly remember my first time hunting with my father I can’t remember my age. I’ve seen hunters of all types, and admittedly some have left a sour taste in my mouth.
But it’s hunters like this asshole who just fatally shot 14-year old, Brandon Lanie, that makes me want to sit in a room with this guy and violate every single rule of firearm safety.
The charging papers said Ferguson, 45, of Maplewood, called police about 5 p.m. Saturday after discovering that he had shot Brandon after mistaking him for a deer. Ferguson said he fired twice after hearing leaves crunch and seeing something brown move through the thickets some distance from his tree stand. He said Brandon had brown hair that looked like a deer’s back.
It’s not underheard of. I’ve heard of people shooting at sounds. I’ve never met someone who does, nor would I ever hunt with them. But the fact that they may be sharing the same patch of land as myself sometimes scares the bejesus out of me. I’ve never worried about the guys I hunt with, it’s the other ones I worry about. Sometimes they don’t even have to be carrying a gun.
This story reminded me of something that happened years back. Opening morning of deer hunting, I had parked myself on a ridgeline overlooking a ravine on public land. I knew from past scouting that the deer frequently used this ravine to move from a nearby grove to a nearby cornfield. I knew it was heavily used and only a matter of time. I got out there and waited. The sun rose, and time passed, until I heard it.
Something was moving through the brush at the entrance of the ravine. Moving slowly and following the game trail I had previously noticed. There!! Through the brush, trees and assorted vines…movement. Brown movement. Finally, my patience was paying off. I lifted my shotgun from my lap, and brought it to my shoulder. I didn’t bring it up to bear on the target but I wanted it in a position where minimal motion would be necessary once the deer cleared the brush.
It stopped. The wind was in my favor, surely it hadn’t caught my scent. Had my motion spooked it already?? I didn’t think it would have been able to see the little motion I had already made. Ah! But there it continues. Here it comes. Here it comes. Here it comes. Breath, Kevin. My arms tensed as I started to move the shotgun into position, still waiting to see what emerged. And then it emerged, with a…
“Good morning!”
What?! Before me stood a man dressed in dark brown overalls and a brown Carhartt jacket. Atop his head was a camo baseball cap. I was in shock.
“Heh, I have a couple traps in here, just checking them. Mind if I wander through??”
I was so furious, I couldn’t even speak. Forget that this man had just screwed up my morning hunt, he had almost screwed up my entire life. Had I not been taught by my father at a very young age to respect the weapon I held, I might very well have shot and killed this man. And as stupid as this man was, I’m entirely certain Darwin would be giggling his ass off.
I tell this story to remind people that it’s not just those with weapons that have a responsibility to think of safety first. And I wish I could say this kid didn’t do that. Unfortunately he did everything right.
Deputies said Brandon was wearing blaze orange pants and coat and a green and brown camouflage, baseball-style cap.
Even that wasn’t enough to save his life, when he crossed paths with a stupid asshole who had no business carrying a firearm. His excuse that Brandon had brown hair would be laughable, if not so tragic, considering said brown hair was located literally inches from a blaze orange coat.
Steven J. Ferguson, you just took an innocent kids life and cast a dark shadow on all responsible hunters. I hope you rot in jail and become Bubba’s new bitch. Admittedly it’s not what you deserve. It doesn’t even come close.