When my husband gets up early to go hunting with his friends, I can be sure that we'll have something gamey on the menu. I'm thankful that it's pheasant season because I'll actually EAT pheasant. The kids like eating Bambi when daddy turns it into jerky, but we let the men cook and eat any rabbit themselves. The fate of these beautiful birds was met with Teresa's lament: "Oh! I'm so saaaaad," Catherine's reasoning: "They were bad birds, and that's why daddy shot them," and Anthony's observation: "Daddy shoot birrrrrd."
No comments:
Post a Comment