Mr. Romney have a bet going
as to who can kill the most rabbits.
It all started at the rabbit drive last Monday
over to Sturgis
when Mr. Noble got himself worked up
about the damage done to his crop by jacks.
Mr. Romney swore he’d had more rabbit trouble
than anyone in Cimarron County.
They pledged revenge on the rabbit population;
wagering who could kill more.
They ought to just shut up.
Betting on how many rabbits they can kill.
Honestly!
Grown men clubbing bunnies to death.
Makes me sick to my stomach.
I know rabbits eat what they shouldn’t,
especially this time of year when they could hop
halfway to Liberal
and still not find food,
but Miss Freeland says
if we keep
plowing under the stuff they ought to be eating,
what are they supposed to do?
Mr. Romney came home from Sturgis Monday
with twenty rabbits apiece. A tie.
It should’ve stopped there. But
Mr. Romney wasn’t satisfied.
He said,
“Noble cheated.
He brought in rabbits somebody else killed.”
And so the contest goes on.
Those men,
they used to be best friends.
Now they can’t be civil with each other.
They scowl as they pass on the street.
I’m scowling too,
but scowling won’t bring the rabbits back.
They’re all skinned and cooked and eaten by now.
At least they didn’t end up in
Romney and Noble’s cook pots.
They went to families
that needed the meat.
January 1934