It was a target rich environment. There was lead flying everywhere. When it was all over I was surrounded by dead bodies. I sniped the first one from 184 yards and got down to confirm the kill. As I closed to 100 yards 2 more engaged me. Quickly settling the cross hairs on the one to the left I squeezed off another round from my trusty 308 and dropped it where it stood. Swinging right onto the next target I squeezed again, a little too quickly this time, only wounding it. As it flopped and screamed I once again acquired it in my scope to finish it when I caught a fourth boggie entering the fray. Quickly I fired my last remaining bullet putting down for good the one I had wounded. Could have gone hand to hand with #4 but decided it was best if I lived to fight another day and bid a hasty retreat. The targets kept coming so I kept shooting and if I hadnít run out of ammo Iíd still be out there right now defending my ground.
It was an unprovoked attack, by a squad of rabid raccoons at my hunting grounds that elicited the above action on my part. Damm that was scary.