little girls should not go around shooting was given as sufficient reason for its seizure.
As soon as my sister regained possession, she used it for shooting rats in a particularly well inhabited barn. So far, that is the biggest game either of us has ever hunted.
I did trap some though, come to think of it—at the age of six. The trap used was my own invention, too. It consisted of an empty orange crate with a hinged lid. This lay on its side with the lid sticking out like an awning and propped open with a stick. To the stick was tied a long string with me on the other end, hiding behind a tree. When I pulled the string the stick flew out and the lid slammed shut and stayed shut against considerable pressure because of the heavy rubber bands laboriously attached.
What was my game? Nothing more or less than a chicken called by my sister and me in our private terminology a “domineecrips”.
Some neighbor’s hens occasionally escaped and invaded a special flower bed of ours. Parental remonstrance did no good, so I thought I could solve the problem by catching the invaders one by one. By sprinkling some breadcrumbs around and inside the box, one specimen was lured near enough to be trapped. What a squawking and how the feathers flew, as the surprised bird churned about inside! I was terrified and elated and know how a big game hunter feels after he has captured a charging elephant.
