Be Vare-we Vare-we Qwiet.

Tuesday December 26th was a great day for being outside. I didn’t have to work and my brother in law and father were going hunting. I had bought FGB a 20-gauge youth shotgun for Christmas which he was kind enough to let me use. The day started out with some target shooting for practice. We rolled clay targets along the ground to shoot at as if they were rabbits. I took four shots at the rollers and missed them all. I had one practice shot left as FGB was going to shoot the other 20 shells himself. I decided to have them fling the last one in the air. I raised my gun pulled the trigger and shattered it with ease. There you have it, as long as the rabbits didn’t start flying it appeared that they would be safe from my gun. FGB embarrassed all of the men by hitting 60 percent of his clay targets. Unfortunately he didn’t have his hunter safety class yet so no hunting for him until next year.

The hunt began behind the barn in the tall grass just before we enter the woods. We were out for no more then 5 minutes when a rabbit jumped up and sprinted out in front of me. I raised my gun and let fire… amazingly the rabbit rolled. I hit it! I was walking over to pick it up when all of a sudden it righted itself and took two large bounds away. I could see he was injured and I didn’t want him to suffer so I reloaded the gun and finished the job. I was pleased that I had actually bagged a rabbit but there was also that solemn sense that I had ended the life of one of God’s creatures.

The hunt continued into the forest. The forest is overrun with wild roses and the thorns were brutal. A vast amount of energy was expended as we pushed our way through the heavy brush. About 100 yards in I flushed another rabbit but due to the constricting roses I was unable to fire a shot. All five of us were spread out in a line and I was on the far right end. I tracked the rabbit and flushed him again he was moving further to the right, towards the swamp. If he made it to the swamp he’d have earned his freedom. I fired once turning him back to the left and called to the rest of the party that he was heading their way. Soon I heard the blam, blam, blam, blam, of My brother-in-laws 12-gauge repeater he had bagged the second rabbit. Almost immediately after that I heard my father’s old 12-gauge fire blam, Ker-chuck, blam two shots fired but no sign of his quarry. We regrouped and and headed off to see if my father had hit his rabbit. There was no blood trail and no fur so he probably hadn’t hit it.

On the Far south side of the woods I bagged my second rabbit he was hopping through the tall grass and just as he crested the tops of the weeds I fired. The weeds stopped moving. My father went over to pick him up when all of a sudden it starts jumping erratically, obviously in its death throws. I begin to reload to put him out of his misery when my father scoops down picks him up and gives him a rabbit chop to the back of the neck. He coolly looks over at me and says, “less BBs to pick out of the meat. A valuable lesson learned. My brother-in-law would bag one more before the day was over and too many to count would escape to hunt another day.

We went back to the house and began the process of cleaning the rabbits. Thankfully we had shot all males so no reduction in the rabbit population as one male can impregnate all the females. My sister made rabbit stew with potatoes, carrots, and all the goodies. She even added some morel mushrooms that were found locally and dried. All in all it was a good experience and one that I can’t wait to share with FGB.