Rabbits On A Shoestring

Even at a young age looked at things differently than most people. My vision picked up a rabbit that appeared to be launched from the pile of brush and seemingly rose three feet in the air before diving deep into an ocean of fresh snow only to return to the surface like a porpoise popping in and out of wintry tundra. Snow filled the air and sparkled in a brilliant display as the sun picked up each facet of the little white diamonds. Shotgun blasts echoed through the clearing as the rabbit made his great escape in a blur of white powder. I stood there amazed like a 12 year old child watching the latest installment of Marlin Perkins wrestling an alligator on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. I never fired a shot at that bunny but the moment was forever stamped into the very core of my permanent memory. Back to reality, I faintly heard someone ask why I didn’t shoot. Mouth agape my eyes wandered back and forth between dad and uncle Jon as if searching for the source. My simple answer was, huh?

Throughout the day we continue to hunt the brush piles and found several stubborn rabbits that were reluctant to vacate their safety. That typically required that one of us set their gun aside and climb atop the brush pile and jump up and down. Maybe not the safest act but it was effective. More times than not that bunny would launch into a series of maneuvers from that pile which sometime included diving into the snow and disappearing. Often you could walk around the area where he disappeared and get him moving again. All in all dad and uncle Jon scored quite a few rabbits from the brush piles and I shot many shells without any luck. It definitely was a blast – pun intended.

As we left the area heading back for the vehicle uncle Jon and I walked side by side on a wide trail and dad walked further off to the left hoping to get a rabbit moving towards our direction. It worked. I watched as a snowshoe made it’s way across a small opening heading straight for the trail where we stood. I raised the 410 aiming for the center of the trail and squeezed the trigger at the moment he began to cross. In that single instance I watched as the rabbit folded into a heap just on the other side of the trail. My very first. I didn’t have a gamebag back then so I made use of an old leather shoestring from a worn out pair of boots. One end tied to my belt loop and the other to the rabbits hind feet I made my way back to the vehicle somewhat dragging the bunny behind in the snow.

An old 410 guage shotgun, a lot of walking, and a couple mentors was all we needed on this day to take a bounty of snowshoe rabbits for little more than the cost of shells and gasoline. It just goes to show that you can hunt rabbits on a shoestring in more ways than one.

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