What's for Dinner?

My dad handed me the .22 rifle and told me to get a few rabbits for dinner. I knew where to go and headed into the woods behind our place. I walked toward a dirt clearing where you can always spot a rabbit or two. Large jacks always visit the shady place that abuts the south side of Lincoln's pond. I got close to the area and dropped to all fours, then I hunkered down and used my elbows to lever myself forward. A big jack sat sniffing the wind less than 20 yards away from me. He was across the other side of the water just where it dog-legs south. I parted the foliage and took aim; I could almost taste the yummy flavor of thick rabbit stew. A split second before I squeezed the trigger, a huge fish broke water in my line of fire.

We all had fried fish for dinner that night.