A guy plinking with a 22 ruined my wife's chances. Little antlers wrecked mine, he scared the does off. I have vowed to shoot only does until something serious comes along and these little 8 pointers that are running in a gang are messing up my plans. oh yes last night, every robin in Iowa was in my valley. They would land on the trees above me. I stopped considering them as a flock and started to hate them as individuals. They sometimes one at a time and sometimes four or five at a time, would look down and say, "Hey look, there is a bowhunter. FOR ME TO POOP ON." First I developed, an inferiority complex, and then just got depressed. Anyone know how to get gobs of robin poop out of a fur hat?