Fowl Play

You’re probably getting by now that meat is sort of a big deal ‘round these parts. So it wouldn’t be beyond your imagination that we, as we drive out of Sudan, often encourage Daniel to try to hit one of the guinea fowl that sometimes saunter across the road.
Well, I’m here to tell you that sometimes dreams do come true.
Dan nailed one yesterday.
I heard the murmuring from the front seat as he and Jen were clearly conspiring against the poor animal and aiming the LandCruiser.
Then the telling thud as he clocked it clean in the head with the underside of the car.
And the triumphant acclamations as the rearview mirrors confirmed that, yes, Daniel had in fact successfully killed tonight’s dinner.
Next thing I know, we’re in full reverse, heading back for the kill. Then Daniel’s sort of looking perplexed at the poor thing—turns out the hit wasn’t as clean as first thought. Then the optimistic brandishing of the knife. Then some indecision.
Then we realize we have nothing to put the thing in anyway, and to seal the deal, a truckload of Sudanese and Kenyans rolls up and starts laughing at us, asking why we killed their animal. And so a friendship was struck as we handed over the bird and headed on our way… smirk with our success and somehow comforted that we were heading out—to Kenya, where if you look hard enough, you can find meat—and not back in, to the land of protein deficiencies.
Oh, and we saw this ginormous bird later. I’m talking three dinners’ worth of food here, people. We really wanted that bird. Then Jen—in this case, the voice of reason—suggested that it would really be a terrible thing if said bird was on the endangered species list…