Great – grandfather forbade his children to hunt ( submitted by southwest writers’ literature regulation magazine )

When I was an adult, I used to make a special trip back to my hometown to worship the ancestral graves on holidays and boarded the tree-lined ancestral graves for the first time accompanied by my people.. Wandering in a graveyard full of tombstones, I found the grave of my great grandfather.     I remember when I was young, when I was old enough to play slingshots, I saw naughty children in the neighborhood playing slingshots and also made a slingshot to play with.. With a slingshot, we have to look for prey. My prey are sparrows who often forage in the courtyard and unknown birds flying in the woods.   As long as my father saw me hitting birds with a slingshot, he would come forward to stop it. Unable to stop it, I confiscated my slingshot. I don’t understand, but I asked my father discontentedly, ” Why can’t I play with slingshot and bird shooting?”? Our family has a family rule prohibiting hunting. Father said, ” Not only can’t beat birds, no wild animals are allowed to hurt.”. My father stroked my head and told me the origin of the ban on hunting: my great-grandfather was a rich squire, tall, strong and energetic, especially fond of hunting when he was young, and he was extremely good at shooting and never came back empty – handed. One summer, my great-grandfather went hunting with a shotgun. When I went to a remote mountain forest to look for prey, I saw a female monkey holding a small monkey jumping around in the branches of wild fruit trees to pick wild fruit.. Great grandfather aimed his gun at the female monkey, pulled the trigger, and shot the female monkey down under the tree. Between Shan Ye, the shrill screams of the mother monkey and the little monkey immediately came out.. As the cry faded and faded, great-grandfather ran to the nearby tree to find prey, only to see the critically wounded and dying female monkey squeezing her withered breast with both hands, squeezing the only milk left in her breast onto a wide leaf in front of her, and beckoning the shivering little monkey to come and eat with a look of extreme kindness and love.. The little monkey came and ate the milk from the leaves, and the mother monkey closed her eyes and died. Great grandfather was deeply shocked and buried the mother monkey on the spot. He brought the baby monkey back to his home and raised it and put it back in the mountains.. Great grandfather from now on pack up shotguns, no longer hunting. Also set a family rule: no hunting for children. My great grandfather told them this tragic story and tried his best to dissuade everyone from killing innocent creatures for his temporary happiness and excitement..   After listening to this story, I no longer have a problem with my father confiscating my slingshot..   When I was an adult, I once made a special trip back to my hometown to worship the ancestral graves on holidays. Accompanied by people, I climbed the tree-lined ancestral graves for the first time.. Wandering in a graveyard full of tombstones, I found the grave of my great grandfather, remembered his story of forbidding his children to hunt, stood in awe of him buried underground, bowed deeply three times, and thanked him for teaching us kindness..[ Responsibility Editor: Chloe ]

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