I remember every year when we ventured into the Game Lands unknowingly on the first day of Small Game Season. (Apparently skinny distance runners are considered small game!) Not many of us were hunters, so we were never aware of what lurked around the corner in the woods. The first nearby gunshots always got our attention. We would then immediately begin conversing in extraordinarily loud voices, further irritating the actual orange-clad hunters in the vicinity. It's a wonder none of them ever took a shot at us. (Although I was rained on by shotgun pellets one time by a laughing hunter from fairly far off.)
Now, this story has me further afraid of the risks I took while on my honeymoon in Maine. Not only was I in danger of being killed by that seemingly innocuous beast, I was at risk of arrest for a crime I did not commit! (I also saw a moose, an osprey and Joan Benoit-Samuelson on the same run!)