As the kindergarten kids told stories to the class, one five-year-old boy told how he and his brother, a fourth-grader, saw a deer. His brother shot at the deer and the deer jumped over a fence. The boys went over the fence. The younger boy had to help his brother through the fence. The boys chased the deer, which apparently had just been nicked by the bullet. The deer ran toward the lake. A car was coming, and the little boy told his brother to wait and they waited until the car passed. Then they went on after the deer. Their dad came running up and was about to shoot the deer, but the brother said, “Wait, Dad. I want to shoot it.”
So the brother shot and missed the deer but the bullet went into the water and hit a fish. It didn’t hurt the fish. They caught the fish. Then the dad shot the deer and according to the boy, it was a “Twenty buck.”
When the two boys returned to the house, they went by a pond, where they saw a rabbit. The older boy threw a rock and hit the rabbit in the side, but the younger boy threw a rock and hit the rabbit in the head and killed it.
“You really are a fine hunter,” I said and the five-year-old boy agreed.
As a member of Writers of the Foothills, I feel sure that this boy may never become such a great hunter as he imagines he is, but I’ll bet if he shoots to become a writer, he will hit the bull’s-eye.
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols