G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most men experience in one decade.  His adventures inspire the foods that we make.  Here’s the story behind our Honey Bunnies.

Hunting in South Louisiana is almost a Rite of Passage for a boy.  It’s his first step into a man’s boots.  I remember that evening around the campfire the night before my first hunt, sitting among the men for the first time without my mother to look after me.  I remember the heavy silence among the men as we walked out to the duck blind.  I vividly remember that goose flinching in mid-flight and falling to the ground in a crumpled, lifeless pile after I pulled the trigger for my first kill.  The men all cheered for me as I left the blind to get the goose out of the rice field. 

My stature didn’t change at all but my soul grew ten inches that morning.  No meal I had ever eaten before tasted as good as the stew with that goose.  I beamed with pride as my entire family thanked me for providing supper.  I hope that story helps you understand how important it was for me to join my brother, my nephew, and other family members on my nephew’s first rabbit hunt.

My nephew had invited his friend from a fatherless family.  Jeff was scrawny but tall.  At least his body was.  He hunched all the time, shoulders sloped, eyes almost always down.  You could tell he wasn’t comfortable around men but his mother had begged my brother to let Jeff join us.  The first day of the hunt everyone bagged a rabbit but Jeff.  The second day was the same but I noticed a shift in the way the other boys acted towards Jeff… they were starting to pick on him a little.  Then I noticed that he only ate cheese sandwiches for supper even though we had fried rabbit.

I pulled Jeff aside and took him for a walk.  I started the walk by telling him about the land we were on that had been passed down through my family for generations.  I told him stories about my brother and I that made both of us laugh.  Once I had helped Jeff relax a little –and gotten him away from the sound of the camp– I asked him why he hadn’t eaten the rabbit and then I realized what was happening as he told me the answer: he was a vegetarian.  Jeff hadn’t killed a rabbit over the last two days because he hadn’t pulled the trigger.  He refused to take a life and my nephew and his friends were picking on him for being different.

This hunting trip, instead of being a celebration of change and discovery of inner strength for Jeff, was turning into an experience that confirmed his worst suspicions about men.  I affirmed Jeff’s moral strength in holding to his convictions.  I told him that it is rare to find a young man that wouldn’t bow to peer pressure and that he was stronger than he thought.  I could tell my words were meaningful to him but I could also tell that it wasn’t enough… he needed to experience his strength.

I did what I do quite often when I’m thinking about something: I went into the kitchen and made bread.  I pondered how I could help Jeff on the last day of our hunt.  How could I show him his strength on a hunting trip if he wouldn’t hunt?  An idea came to me as I kneaded the dough.

The next morning we released the beagles and split into different groups.  I made sure I was with Jeff and a couple of other guys.  When no one was looking I snuck off into the tall grasses and dropped something out of my bag.  I walked slowly across the strip of cut grass that we shoot into, loudly announcing I was about to do it so no one shot at me.  Everyone other than Jeff lowered their guns… he didn’t even have his gun on his shoulder.  Everyone looked at me strangely when they saw that I was holding a rope and stringing it across the open patch of grass.

I looked at Jeff and told him, “Jeff, I want you to trust me.  Pick up that gun and put it on your shoulder.”

He looked a little confused but did what I said.

I told him, my voice growing louder and stronger as I spoke, “Jeff, I want you to shoot the next thing that jumps across this path.  Do you understand me?”

He nodded and I pulled hard on the rope.

A bunny I had shaped out of bread danced across the path and exploded into a hundred pieces in mid-air.  I looked back at Jeff.  Smoke danced out of the barrel of his shotgun.  His mouth was open in speechless amazement and a smile slowly grew.  Everyone laughed, yelled, and patted him on the back.

I attached another Honey Bunny to the rope, walked across the path again, and challenged the other boys to do what Jeff had just done.  None of them were fast enough to hit the target. 

I challenged Jeff to do it again and, once again, the bunny exploded into pieces.  This time Jeff laughed with joy.

On the walk back to the camp I noticed that Jeff didn’t slouch any more.

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Honey Bunnies are available every day through Holy Saturday.