Starting to Shoot

December 29, 1875

Mother has been suffering. Her shoulders are always tensed up and she even more stressed than ever. We've been low on money and food, and we have no man to support us. So the only thing for me to do, other than to help mother with all the housework, is to shoot game. The little woods by our home is full of critters and such, so I just shoot those, bring them home, and mother does who-knows-what to them. I've gotten pretty good at this shooting thing. I try to be modest, but I can't help it; my aim is always right. I wonder if its just the Kentucky rifle that I use, or if the prey is just too lazy to do anything about it. No matter what, its helped us plenty, and I must say that I am proud. I've gotten many weird looks from when I sell out game to the Katzenberger brother's store and tell them that I am the one who shoots and catches these critters, yet surprisingly, I don't care. Mother's doesn't either, I think. She's probably just happy that we actually eat ever night these days.