When approaching my desert cabin this
weekend, a local jack rabbit darted away from the side
of the porch. I see this all the time and didn't think much of it.
I went about other business away from the cabin and when I returned
the same rabbit, or one that looked just like him, darted away again
in the same manner. "Wait a minute" I thought. It looks
like he lived there. I looked around and sure enough there was a
hole the size of a basketball underneath the cabin. Surely this
was its home. What concerned me was how this hole may have been
compromising the cabins foundation. It's built on sandy ground on
top of 12 concrete blocks.
I've got nothing against jack rabbits or any
other critter out there. The state of California allows for year
round hunting of rabbits and coyotes but why? Who do they hurt out
there? I'm a lover not a hunter even though I have more guns that
I need. I only kill bugs. The one and only other time I dispatched
a rabbit (which he didn't deserve) was with a Marlin .22. This is
too small of caliber for that size game. This guy had to endure
a full magazine of hell before going to rabbit heaven. After that
I swore I'd never kill another jack rabbit unless it attacked my
family and even then it would be with a rifle of enough caliber
to put him out of my misery with just one, or more, shots.
I considered many options for getting this rabbit
out from underneath my cabin and what I came up with was that this
home wrecker had to be evicted. On this day, my trusty Winchester
lever action .357 ranch rifle would be called to duty. This would
be the humanist way to go as possible. I loaded a round in the chamber
and nine more into the magazine. I figured that would be about eight
more than necessary.
The rabbit had just left and I knew it wouldn't
be far. It was just a matter of walking a few steps and flushing
him out of the bushes. Sure enough, he bolted from behind a bush
and zig-zagged about 75 feet away and stood still in clear view.
His body was perpendicular to me which made him a big fat target.
Rabbits are funny in that they seem to want to be in view of you
as you want to be in view of them. They remain very still and can
be difficult to see. As long as they are not camouflaged in front
of a bush they are perfectly clear silhouetted in front of the desert
sand.
I quickly released four
rounds of lead. None of them hit. I was forgetting the first rule
of successful shooting...A-I-M. It's surprising that these rabbits
don't take off after the first missed shot with their big ears clearly
hearing what's coming for them. They must be curious creatures.
It's not until one of your misses gets close enough to stir up dust
on their feet that they take off again.
So this rabbit bolts again only this time he
stops, broadside in clear view, about 100 feet away. I shoot another
four rounds and after the last near miss he zig-zaggs away across
the desert again. I figure the joke's on him because I'm standing
there still the whole time and this thing is doing all the zig-zagging.
That's how rabbits allude predators. I don't know who fell through
the cracks in evolution more. The rabbit or the human standing there
with a .357 rifle.
I'm starting to see a pattern here. He runs further
away with each barrage and is now a good 150 feet away. I haven't
counted how many rounds I've shot at this time but I know my magazine
must be close to empty. I see I have at least one more shot. Here
is where the excitement of the hunt comes in. I have maybe only
one shot left at a pretty long distance for me. I have to leave
shortly with no time to reload and I don't think the rabbit will
be coming back to the Ponderosa anytime soon. I'm starting to have
visions of coming back to my cabin in a few weeks seeing the foundation
slanted and the cabin shaped like a trapezoid.
Knowing I have at least one shot left, I try
to get in a supine position but I loose sight of the rabbit. Getting
on one knee is the best option. I take my time. I aim. I fire. This
time I'm lucky. Bugs Bunny folds like a blanket. I don't think he
felt a thing. And it turns out I had one more round in the magazine.
In the last installment on this
page I asked the question of what was the term for a group of horses
other than "group?" The first correct answer came from
my bother Denny Bacon in Redondo Beach, California. He barely edged
out the other guy who visits this website. His correct answer was
"Team." Denny wins the free church key bottle opener like
the one on the Ranch Store page. Congratulations, brother!
Perry Jones passing by on Crucero
Road...Rex Turnbaugh offering a good solution for
dust control...Lisa Wilson paying the Piper...Don
Rollins receiving post cards from far away destinations...Rick
Himsel saving on fuel... |
