Random winter day doings
He noticed the black crows right away. They landed on the dead something-or-other the dogs had dragged up to the barn. “Oh, there are those nasty old birds,” he said, looking out the window. “Can I go hunting with my BB gun?”
In the end his big, blue, imploring eyes won me over. He struggled into his insulated overalls and I helped him with boots and gloves. “What are the rules?” He promptly repeated: “Never point at a person. Keep my finger off the trigger until I’m ready to shoot.”
“And don’t shoot at the barn or the truck or windows or the dogs or cats or horses.”
He stared at me with a disbelief. “Really? You think I’d shoot the dog?!” And my growing little man shook his head at me in indignant disgust. “Sorry,” I said. “Just making sure.”
And then I watched him go … with his determined swagger and seven years of honed wisdom of the ages.
A boy’s story is the best that is ever told. ~ Charles Dickens