My November header is now up (which you won’t know unless I tell you, if you’re a Reader reader).
I’m glad you pointed that out for us reader readers! 🙂
Thanks from a reader reader.
About your header . . . . It was a traumatic reminder that once I was actually served bunny by my mother. The neighborhood kids had taken to keeping an eye out for (and setting traps to catch and tame) a black bunny that scurried about in the bushes at the Johnson home and at around our home for weeks and weeks. One day, Mr. Johnson brought over some rabbit meat for stew. He’d caught and killed and skinned the rabbit.
I made quite a fuss about NOT eating that rabbit stew. I sat at the dinner table for a long time NOT eating that rabbit stew.
It did occur to me that theoretically people could eat rabbit for Thanksgiving. But usually the rabbit would not be this large or furry.
When your mother was little, we could, and did, buy rabbit in the grocer’s. It really does (snicker) taste much as chicken. And chicken’s not that much a stretch from turkey. But we never had it for Thanksgiving.
The little tomatoes do a good job of off-setting the rabbit. Eeeek. I don’t know why, but this image is quite disturbing to me. Maybe because my Grandpa Bartholomew raised rabbits and ate them. And once I was served one. And didn’t eat one bite. And I was quite sickened. Memories…………
Maybe cause it looks like President Bush is about to eat a live rabbit. And his wife from the 50’s is smiling supportively. Along with the token children. I think I am going to have nightmares tonight:)
I forgot to tell you this is my Halloween banner. 😉 (Not really, but apparently so.) I hope you don’t have nightmares. Don’t worry, he will pardon the bunny and it will go live at Disneyland.
What a relief! I’ve been worried about what he might do with that rabbit.
What Uncle Stephen didn’t tell you is that he also shot rabbits on the San Juan Islands when we were kids. I think we ate a couple of those, but usually the wild ones had diseased livers and weren’t good for eating (Dad knew how to tell if they were OK; they ate rabbits too when he was a kid. His dad, my Grandpa Huntington, was noted for being able to kill a fast-running rabbit with a stone throw to the head. We can only afford to be squeamish because food is so easy to come by for us. Sorry, Laura.) It was no crime to shoot the island rabbits–they couldn’t swim away and they overran the place. Bunnies are darling, but they also taste great. Like chick….
Actually, we didn’t shoot the rabbits (Belgian Hares they were, commonly called coneys). It was HUGE fun spotlighting and chasing them through the fields at night careening around in an old open army ammunition truck. Eventually the rabbit would freeze in fear whereupon one of us would jump down from the truck and cover it with a fishing net. So, when we got home from the field, they were all alive collected in a large wooden box. I’ll leave the rest of the story, unpleasantly for some, to your imaginations.
Funny, they tasted just like rabbit.
I see they have longer legs and longer ears. I have old Easter postcards depicting Easter bunnies that are clearly Belgian hares.
http://www.google.com/images?q=rabbit&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wi&biw=1680&bih=835 (There are some Belge hares that ignerntly made it into this set, I see. But holy moly, take a gander at this bunny: http://www.hoax-slayer.com/giant-rabbit.shtml )
I just spotted a plush toy bunny on my family room floor and had a moment of terror.
In rereading this, I realize it appeared I was taking issue with calling Belgian Hares rabbits. I’m perfectly happy to call them rabbits. It’s a generic kinda thing. What I meant to emphasize was that we didn’t SHOOT them. Getting them was riotously more fun than that. Hanging on for dear life as the truck charged helter-skelter in the pitch black of night trying to follow a spotlit rabbit. It was exhiliarating for a 12 year old. (One of my rare distinct memories of childhood.)
No, no, I didn’t take that from what you said at all. Actually, I meant “they taste just like…” as a play on “…chicken”.
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