The hurt of a bush meat

It was just like my dad always told us in his story about how he used to hurt bush meat in the thick bush when he was still little. That bright afternoon, we were at my dad's village. Outside his dad's house, we sat looking amazing at the trees and thick bush that we found at every corner of the village.

All road paths are in between the bush. Our lastborn will always cry to my dad to carry him up because he was scared of walking the path of the bush.

That afternoon, my dad and his friends were in the backyard discussing and having some white drinks, which he had refused us kids to partake in. "Bunch of old men," I thought to myself. We were in the front yard playing with the red soil and chattering since we are always in the city and these are things we hardly get to see. Just a moment later, I heard my dad shout from the back of the house, saying"Did you get it? Did you get it?"and the response was, "It has run to the front of the house where the kids are."

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We saw a rabbit run to the front of the house, and the men chased after it. It started running in our direction, and my dad started screaming at us, saying"Catch that thing, catch that thing."
We fearful kids also ran away from the rabbit with horror in our faces. We were crying because it felt like a wild animal was about to come and eat us up. We all started running around in the compound, and the rabbit escaped into the bush.

I asked my dad what that was, and he said it was bush meat. I was like, Whaoo? Assuming we catch that rabbit now, we will have had a taste of bush meat, and then we can claim to be children of the land. Well, there is always a second time for it.