Striped Gophers, when I was a kid I always wanted one as a pet.
Trust me, you'd only want one as a pet until the little ground dweller bit ya'! Then my guess would be that it would somehow fall victim to your favorite .22lr!

Striped Gophers, when I was a kid I always wanted one as a pet.
I always figured grandma probably had something to do with the missing part.
So there I was, on the ground and dazed. Unsure of where I was or why I tried to get my bearings. I got to my knees and then immediatly fell back. I was surrounded, had they seen me? they must have. I started to formulate a plan as to how I could escape. I slowly raised my head and had a look around, there must have been a hundred of em. There was a narrow grid road about 200 yards away on my 5 o'clock position, which at this point I could only assume was west. As I panned some more I noticed that even though there were a lot of em, they seemed highly disorganized. I might just have a chance. I reached around and gathered some rocks, then I waited for my opportunity. While I was waiting I remembered a documentary on gophers I had seen as a kid, the host had mentioned that they were more scared of you than you are of them. This gave me the courage to begin my retreat. I scrambled up from my position and began running and throwing rocks at anything that moved, the whole time screaming in a language unbeknownst to me. I managed to make it to the road and I still don't know to this day how many I killed, but the memories of that day will stay with me for the rest of my life. I only hope I am better prepared if I am to ever find myself in a similar situation again.
As I panned some more I noticed that even though there were a lot of em, they seemed highly disorganized. I might just have a chance.
AGREED!!! that was a hoot and did make me laugh!Ya I found it funny too! Sorry I didn't comment on that as well. This was my favourite part.
One occasion using factory Igman 180gr ammo I went prone with the No.5 and fired at a gopher about 50yards away. When the dust settled, there was the target, still sitting in his hole. With WTF on my mind, I worked the bolt and proceeded to close distance. When I got to the hole, there was the gopher, still sitting peacefully. Giving him a nudge with my foot, the top half of the carcass flopped over to form an inverted V in shillouette. The round had split him neatly in half.