Cooking is a way of giving and making yourself desirable
Michel Boudin.
The Hunter
Copyright Fred Watson 2006
The small boy slipped from the compound. Furtively he skirted the bullpens and slid down the hill to the river. In two minutes he had crossed the ford and entered the forest. They said seven was too young to join the hunt, but he’d show them. Carrying the small spear Lien had made him, he moved into the trees. The rabbit warren was on the edge of the trees to the west, but if he had gone there directly they would have spotted him crossing the field.
It was cool and dark beneath the trees, but in the distance shafts of sunlight lanced down as the trees opened up, where he imagined the warren to be.However when he reached the tree line, he realised it was a clearing still full of last years long grass. The briars interspersed with small thickets of scrub at the far side were bright with sunlight, and the clearing alive with the sounds of small animals and insects.
As he stepped forward, the sounds ceased. He walked though the dry knee high grass and sat motionless on a stump. Soon the clearing came back to life.
He was wondering what a squirrel would taste like, when he spotted the flash of white. The rabbit had moved position and he was lucky to have seen it, screened as it was by the dry grass.
He crept across, pulled back his arm and whipped it forward. It was a clean strike. Elated, he did a little jig then went to recover his spear.
After cleaning his spear, he lifted the rabbit by the ears and froze when he heard a rustling deep in the thicket. His eyes lit, another rabbit?Tying the kill to his belt. He wormed his way slowly into the tangled bushes; finally he spotted movement in the dark ahead. Holding his spear ready he parted the last branches and stood for a moment stunned, he’d blundered into a family of wild boar.
He turned and ran the branches tearing at his face and arms, out of the bushes heading for the nearest tree. Behind him the bushes exploded as the black humped-backed beast burst through. He ran as he’d never run before knowing his puny spear was useless against the boar. Then in his panic he tripped over his feet and went sprawling.
The enraged boar closed on him, snarled yellow teeth and vicious tusks ready to tear him apart. Having no defence he curled into a ball and prayed to the gods. The beast squealed, he felt it fetid breath and then there was silence.
A boot nudged his side and as he uncurled he saw the face of his brother and father above him. Beyond at his feet the boar lay with his brother’s spear deep in it flanks. He rose unsteadily and held out the rabbit. From the look on his father’s face he would be severely punished. But still he smiled; he was a hunter now.
