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.
Seriously though, I grew up on the praries and kill anywhere from 1-5000 a year depending on time. I have hit them with my .223 and had them go about 5ft. I hope one day to see one go 20 that would be awesome. I think the best would have to be clearing 3 or 4 babies off a mound with the 12 gauge. They should sell that experience to city people as a stress reliever.