Gavin loves to hunt. Last year he went hunting with his dad and killed a deer. However, dad actually did the shooting. This year Gavin wanted to hunt something he could shoot. He took his .22 into the woods (supervised by dad) and killed a couple squirrels. (He's a great shot for a five year old.)
We have a family rule when it comes to hunting. You kill it, you clean it, you eat it.
Gavin can hunt dove and squirrel and says they are "delicious." I'm rather dubious about the passionate nature of his response when I ask how it tastes.
Gavin likes to "look at the guts." Not a messy mushy bunch of guts. He likes to skin the animal, feel and look at the muscles, open it up and look at the heart, the brains, the eyeballs. Clean it, plop it on a stick or grate, grill, and eat the meat.
Either he is a serial killer in training, or a potential vet. My husband assures me he is all b-o-y and remembers being very interested in the same things as a kid while hunting with his dad.
Me? I will continue to hunting at the grocery store.
BEFORE LUNCH:
