It was the day before Christmas. In the village of Ver-les-Pichon, every single window of the house was on fire: its residents were preparing for the upcoming joyful event. The children read the Gospel and looked forward to the time when it would finally get dark and they could, after congratulating each other, sit down at the festive table. The adults were preparing Christmas dinner. Every family had something tasty in store for Christmas - a large piece of lamb, a fat goose or a leg of pork. Fires were blazing in the hearths, stew was bubbling in cauldrons, pies were browning in the ovens. No one cared about the evil blizzard, which danced in the mountains whistling and hooting, threatening to cover human dwellings with snow.
When there was only an hour left before midnight, one inhabitant of Vers-les-Pichons named Antoine Moron suddenly decided to hunt hares. He had two reasons for this. Firstly, being a passionate lover of shooting, he wanted to take a walk with a gun in the fresh air, and secondly, the thought of enjoying hare meat on the holiday smiled at him. Without hesitation, Antoine Moron kissed his wife on the cheek, winked at the children, took the gun off the wall, got on his skis and rolled down the mountain into the ravine. The day before, he noticed a place where the snow had melted due to the rains and the ground with green grass had opened up. The hunter was sure that the hares would definitely come to this thawed area in search of food. Anticipating life and completely forgetting that it was not at all proper for a good Christian to shoot animals on the night before Christmas, our venerable father of the family hid in the bushes near a thawed patch.
We didn't have to wait long. Soon a large white hare jumped out from behind a snowy mound. Sniffling and snorting, he began to eat the juicy stems. Antoine took good aim and was already preparing to kill him on the spot with a well-aimed shot, when, out of nowhere, another scythe appeared, which seemed to be even thicker than the previous one. The hunter hastily turned his gun on him, but before he had time to fire, three more hares jumped out onto a small clearing, one fatter than the other. The hungry poor things greedily ate the grass, completely ignoring the hunter with a gun.
Antoine had never seen so many hares at once in his life. Excitedly, he moved the muzzle from one animal to another, still not daring to shoot. Finally, choosing the largest one, he pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared, it turned out that all the long-eared creatures were safe and sound. Moreover, the roar that rang out didn’t even frighten them away. The hares looked attentively at the man, then looked at each other and suddenly began drumming their paws on the ground. This shot spread far across the surrounding area, and in response, hundreds of their fluffy, lop-eared relatives jumped out of the forest and rushed as fast as they could to the thawed area. There they began to jump around Antoine Moron and angrily wave their paws at him.
Needless to say, the hunter’s soul sank to his feet! He threw down his gun and ran towards the village. Only after slamming the door behind him was he able to catch his breath - it still seemed to him that angry hares were chasing him to beat him.
Antoine's house was long overdue; it had long since struck midnight, and it was time to sit down at the table. Antoine Moron told his family about the amazing event that had so frightened him and then solemnly promised never to hunt again on the night before Christmas.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru