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