We have been busy here trying to get our first event planned and a newsletter out there to our members. Stay tuned for that.
As I think about this time of year I am reminded of a short story from my childhood.
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| Boys and their rabbits, 1904 |
We moved to the old farm back in Numa, Iowa when I was about 4-5 years old. Our first winter in the house, I remember being a wonderful time. I feel like much of my childhood was spent in the past, or the distant past as it were. The house had been an old company mining house but now it was a warm little farm house on the southern Iowa prairie. I always had a toy gun laying around the house and I was always hunting wild animals or pretending to be Davy Crockett at the Alamo. One day I was looking out the big window of the bedroom. This window faced the south of the farm and from it I could see all the way back to the end of our property. Out away from the house about 100 yards was this old shed. Well, I looked out and I saw a rabbit! This rabbit was just waiting to be taken as my prize so I carefully took aim as my mom looked over my shoulder. I fired! BANG! The rabbit instantly flew up in the air and then lay there...dead! I was thrilled! My mom was very surprised at this and wondered what in the world had happened.
Well soon the truth came out. I had not shot the rabbit like I had thought. Out from behind that shed emerged my father carrying his .22 rifle. He had shot that rabbit at the exact same moment I had shot my rifle. My mother was none to pleased and ran out to tell him that he wasn't allowed to shoot rabbits in her yard because she liked to watch them and if Dad wanted to hunt rabbits he should go to the woods. But the little boy with the toy rifle was still convinced it was he that had shot the rabbit.
Jake Book, Kentucky
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