Making Hunting Traditions
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I cut across the southwest corner of our yard and walked down the lane that ran past our house. The fresh snow revealed the tracks of the game animal I was after on this morning hunt. The fence row across the way from our home held several pieces of used machinery, including an old Allis-Chalmers pull-type combine that was a great place for adventure when I was a kid. I would climb on it, and with very little imagination, it would become a ship out on the high seas or even a castle where I could defend myself from the safety of the grain hopper.
But on this morning, I was after game. Mom worked six-hour days at a beauty shop in Keokuk, so I stayed home with Dad, and my brother, Kent, had taken Mom to work. Dad brought out my Crosman CO2 pellet rifle in .22 caliber, and while he did the chores, I was allowed to take a rabbit if I came across one. I couldn’t load the pellet gun until I actually saw a rabbit, but walking down that lane was a stalk that I have repeated many times on many other hunts — both big game and small game — with the same sense of excitement. I may have been 11 or 12 years old.
Next to the old combine was a fallen tree I used to climb. Near the root wad of that tree sat my intended target. The rabbit sat there like a statue, as I’ve seen so many times before, as if it believed that if it didn’t move, I wouldn’t see it. The rabbit stuck out like a sore thumb.
I worked the bolt of my pellet rifle, placed the pellet in the chamber, and closed it. From there, I pulled back on the round knob that cocked the gun to activate the trigger and release the sealed CO2 — or at least that’s my memory of how the pellet rifle worked. The shot was close, maybe 20 feet. I was successful and carried my rabbit to Dad, who was working in our shed. He took out his pocketknife and dressed the rabbit, then cleaned it by rubbing it down with snow before I carried it into the house and put it in a bowl with two other rabbits soaking in salt water.
Sunday dinner was rabbit cooked in a cast-iron skillet, with gravy made from the drippings and homemade biscuits. I laughed as I typed “homemade” because I believe in 1966 that was probably the only kind of biscuits available. But it was — and still is — one of my favorite wild game dishes.
I was disappointed that we did not have a white Christmas this year during the break, so I couldn’t get a rabbit hunt in with my grandson. Even if it had been a white Christmas, though, most of the family was down with whatever virus is making the rounds.
I was at the farm just last Tuesday, the last day of alternative-methods deer season. As I went through the gate — which is within a few feet of where I took my first rabbit, or my first game animal, for that matter — I saw where rabbits had crossed the road from a small thicket to what remains of the fence row that ran in front of our home site. It brought back the memories I shared at the beginning of this story.
Deer camps are special. Anytime you get the opportunity to spend time with your kids or grandkids, do it — those times are few and far between. And anything you can do to get them off their cellphones is a good thing. I have never felt so alone as when I’m in a room full of people, and everyone is on their phones.
Deer weren’t as plentiful during my youth as they are now, so a family outing on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon was often a winter rabbit hunt. We had a beagle named Herman. I don’t know why he had a name — he never came to it when he was tracking rabbits.
We would let Herman out, then get on the edge of the cover and pick off rabbits as they circled around to the outside to get away from him. I have no idea what the rabbit population is right now, but I know it peaks about the same time my garden starts coming up. Still, there are plenty of places where you can kick up a rabbit or two and enjoy a hunt with the family, even without a hound.
What I’ve enjoyed over the years about rabbit hunting is the variety of ways to pursue them. Hunting by yourself — which is not my favorite way to go — can be as simple as taking a hike with a scoped .22 rifle. I have preferred scopes on my .22s even before my eyes wore out from staring at a computer screen. The scope makes aiming more precise and helps reveal small limbs that may be between you and your target.
This is what my grandson and I use when we hunt. It’s a great learning experience for young hunters, getting them used to aiming with a scope and learning safe gun handling in the field.
Long before I became a Papa, I always preferred .22 short hollow-point ammo. It’s quieter, and if you fill your magazine tube, you’ll likely never need to reload. They can be hard to find, but I still use them for almost everything I hunt with my .22 rifle, saving long rifle rounds for target practice.
For a challenge, I also enjoy using my .22 Colt New Frontier with its 4-inch barrel. My walking stick makes a handy gun rest for the pistol and helps open brush when walking through briars.
At the end of my fence row, where our lane used to run, there’s a good-sized brush pile. A small gap — maybe 30 feet — lies between the fence row and the brush pile. When drivers walk down the fence row toward the brush pile, rabbits burst out and cross that open ground with great haste. A .22 rifle is almost useless in this situation. It’s hard to get a shot off, and if you do, it’s difficult to hit the rabbit or even tell where the shot landed.
For these situations, I use a pump-action .410 shotgun loaded with No. 6 shot. It’s the perfect gun for those running rabbits that try to escape to the brush pile.
As I finish this story, I’m making plans for a rabbit hunt on Saturday. It would be nice to have more snow, but we’ll make do.
When rabbit hunting — especially in thick brush — wearing hunter orange is essential to know where everyone is. It’s also critical to know what lies beyond your target, especially when hunting with a .22.
There’s still plenty of time to get out and do some rabbit hunting with your family. Even if you’re not successful, you’ll have had a great time and gotten off the couch.
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