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By the end of hunting season she counts her pray: seven rabbits and one deer

Threaded one after another they all dry down to the same fuzzy flavour

The rabbits had never met a hunter in camouflage and volunteered to have their spines broken

The deer was too gentle to believe in traps

It nibbled the threads and dribbled on her nimble fingers

Undermined in her hunting authority she sets out east for wilder beasts

The fox shakes his ears at such profane manners and takes the bones home to its city burrow

They'll make savvy snacks for hibernation

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