Harry, Trapper and Sassy went rabbit hunting last week. The stories that come back when they have an outing usually sounds like I should call them Larry, Moe and Curly.

Anyway, he said he had to replenish his stock since I cleaned out the freezer of all rabbits on his birthday. I made that fine dining culinary delight I perfected just for him, Cajun Bunny Fingers. Everyone raves about it. Except me. I refuse to let it pass my lips.

But our daughter, Becky, gave a stellar performance at the dining table.

"OK. I just want you to know, I'm going to eat one," she informed us.

She received no pressure from anyone to try it, least of all from me. I learned that lesson years ago. But everyone kept telling her how delicious it was and she thought she'd give it a whirl.

First, she took a small piece and held it to her nose. She sniffed it. Then she placed it near her lips. You could tell she was really contemplating whether or not she wanted to open her mouth. Finally, she took a bite. I wish I had thought to have the camera ready. She bit down once, and immediately spit it out. Then the gagging began. A hint of green creeped into her pallor.

I watched in amusement until I was afraid she was going to ruin all our appetites and told her, "Take a swallow of wine."

It took me back to when she was a little girl at the supper table. Whenever I made some new recipe, we'd go through the same procedure. She'd tell me right off she wasn't going to eat it or try it. I'd insist she was going to try it. Sometimes she'd chew and actually swallow. On occasion, she'd actually like it. Other times she'd spit it out and declare she would never eat it again. Sometimes she'd end up gagging.

One night, she had dug her heels in and said she absolutely would not try the new dish. It's been so long ago, I can't remember what it was. But I'm pretty sure it must have involved hamburger, something to this day, at the age of 34, she still doesn't eat. Me? I was raised on hamburger. Love it. I come from a long line of hamburger connoisseurs. My dad was such a picky eater as a kid but the one thing he loved was hamburgers so my grandmother actually made him two hamburgers every morning for breakfast! I just couldn't fathom how a daughter of mine didn't like hamburger.

Anyway, after a battle of wills, she told me flat out that if I made her try it, she would throw up. OK, so shoot me. Or accuse me of child abuse, but I made her put a forkful in her mouth. She spit it out and then immediately threw up. All over her plate and herself. I grabbed her hand and ran with her into the bathroom.

After cleaning her up and the mess at the table, supper was officially over for all of us.

In the midst of cleaning up, this little voice said, "See. I told you'd I'd throw up."

Lesson learned. I never made her eat anything she didn't want after that. She might have lived on kosher pickles and rice for the next several years, but at least we didn't have to watch her gag trick while we were trying to eat.

But I digress. Back to Harry, Trapper and Sassy's hunting outing and stocking up the Koehlers' freezer.

That night he came home with more than one dead carcass.

He held up a small plastic sandwich bag. "And here's something else for us to eat besides rabbit."

I almost needed a magnifying glass to see it.

"What is it?" I asked wrinkling my nose. I knew this wasn't going to be good.

Evidently, as Buffalo Bill was waiting for Trapper and Sassy to find more rabbits, he got a little bored. A woodcock had been flushed out a few times. Once more he heard the sound of wings and Buffalo Bill raised his gun and followed the poor little innocent bird. He pulled the trigger thinking he'd never get it. Wrong.

He couldn't believe he got it. When he found it, he said to himself, "Well, you shoot it, you have to eat it." So he cleaned it and brought it home to the little wife to prepare for dinner.

Inside the baggie were two little teeny tiny breast pieces about the size of a couple of Chicken McNuggets. No feeding the multitudes at Thanksgiving dinner here.

Instead, one night Harry had an appetizer I named, Buffalo Bill's Woodcock Bites. He says I can lose that recipe. I told him I would if he promises not to bring home anymore woodcocks.

No. I did not taste it. I didn't want to repeat Becky's performance of her famous gag trick.

Sometimes I wish Buffalo Bill would find a new hobby.

(P.S. I may joke about what Harry brings home for dinner but everyday I am very thankful that we have food to eat and a warm, dry home to live in. Not only are our own local community food banks in need of items but there is a cry for help to send food to our neighbors in New Jersey and New York. Any non-perishable food item would be greatly appreciated. Don't know where to drop it off? Newspapers and television provide info of numerous organizations that are accepting them but I'm sure any local fire company or church would accept your donation and see that it gets to a distribution place. Even the donation of a few cents or a dollar, when added with others, can make a difference. If you feel blessed, pay it forward. "No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another." Charles Dickens.)