WayneConrad
Member
The city boy finally got the bunny.
I wasn't feeling very well, so decided to go try and find the bunny (the outdoors is a great distraction for not feeling so well). I took dad's 20 ga, a box of #8 shells, and went looking. I drove up to Table Mesa Road, ignoring the weird things my unwell head was doing, and parked just East of the Double-T ranch. After a few minutes of getting my gear ready, and making my usual phone call to let someone know where I am and when I'll be back, I was off. I walked down the road to the arroyo, and then North, counting my steps so I'd know when I got a quarter mile from the ranch house (the state of Arizona gets cranky if you hunt too close to structures). Now, I'm mostly expecting a nice hike, since the bunny population appears to be down due to the 3rd month in a row of no rain. Coyotes appear to be doing well, however.
The first bit of luck: There was a decent wind blowing, and right in my face. Maybe that will help to keep all the noise I make away from those big bunny ears. I remembered something I read on here about looking where you're going to put your feet, then raise your eyes and walk those steps without looking at the ground, so you can watch for movement in the distance. Why didn't I think of that? It works, too: About half a mile up the arroyo I was treated to the sight of six mule deer coming out of the draw perhaps 70 yards away. I froze, they froze, and we spent a pleasant five minutes looking at each other before they bounded off. They sure were pretty. They were all doe, I think... no horns, anyhow. I'm a city boy: what do I know about deer?
Continuing the hunt, I got all the way up to the ridge, perhaps a mile from the ranch. If I turned West I'd be on the rancher's land, and if I turned East the wind would now be at my side instead of in my face, but at least not at my back. So East it was. I angled East and start coming up out of the arroyo, and what do you know, there's a jack bunny coming up the other side. I got the shotgun shouldered just as he froze and looked back at me. Mighta been 30 yards away, but I have a hard time judging distances in the desert. Safety off, sights on it, and kabam! Holy cow, I forgot my ear protection. My ears were ringing as it stumbled, cried, and moved towards a nearby palo verde tree. That's when I discovered that dad's pump shotgun doesn't pump! Either it's broke or I don't know how to work it right. Bad on me, but I got another shell in quickly enough to take another shot at the bunny as it comes to rest under the tree.
My heart was sure pumping. I decide to wait a bit to calm down. I got a third shell into dad's single-shot pump shotgun in case the bunny comes out from under the tree and waited until my heart rate got back in the double-digits before heading towards the tree. I was watching the tree so hard I didn't even see the jumping cholla that I tried to walk through. Oh, son of a gun! I guess I wasn't calmed down enough. Nothing to do but get out the multi-tool and go to work. I got lucky and got the pod away without attaching too many more spines to my knee The spines are barbed, so ya just gotta grab 'em with pliars, grit your teeth, and pull hard. I got off easy with only a dozen spines. Jumping cholla is a hungry cactus.
Another 20 steps from there and I was at the tree, relieved to find the jack dead at the base of it. After having to take two shots at it, I was dreading the prospect of it having gotten away, wounded and suffering. The cry it made when my first shot only wounded it was bad enough. Once I knew it was dead I sat down, hoping to calm down some more. This is the first game I've ever taken, and I was just wired.
When I picked the bunny up I discovered why it had stumbled with my first shot. One of its rear legs had been busted.
Well, now I've got the thing, and I've got to clean it. No getting out of it. Out come the nitrile gloves and my small game knife. It seemed awful sharp at home, and it probably is, but doesn't seem so sharp with all that thick fur in the way. Still, I fumbled my way around and got the entrails out. I spilled some green gunk from a piece of gut, but I think I kept it off of the meat. You country boys would have been shaking your heads to see how badly (and slowly) I managed it. At long last I found the liver, which was a nice, healthy looking red with no white spots. By this point I wouldn't have minded finding disease and having to toss it. The combination of having wounded it with the first shot and of getting much more personal with an animal's entrails than I ever have was making me wonder if there was just too much city in me to let me take up hunting.
In my fertile imagination, I thought I might come home with a collection of game for the pot, but I was still so wired that I didn't think I can muster the calm, slow steps that got me this rabbit. And maybe a bit unhappy with myself for the poor kill. So, I decided, my first kill would be the only kill of the day. That's when I discovered that you can't hang a gutted jack rabbit from your belt and expect to get back to the car without getting pretty messy. I don't even own any real hunting clothes. I've got jeans on, and being the city boy I am, it's even one of my nicer pair. Good thing I carry some garbage sacks in my pack. It looks goofy, this big ol' jack-in-a-sack hanging from my belt, but at least I won't ruin these jeans.
Back at the car, I called sweetie up to let her know that no rescue would be needed today, tossed the jack in the cooler, and headed home.
I won't bore you with my slow amateur job of dressing the jack. I found only five obvious wounds from shot... maybe I was farther away than I thought. Most of the shot was between the skin and the muscle. One of the long muscles in the back had a piece of shot and a lot of bleeding, and there were two pellets that got to the innerds.
I ended up with perhaps a pound and a half of meat in the freezer. I probably wasted half a pound of good meat, city boy that I am.
Oh, and I never saw a cat as interested in the kitchen counter as when I was dressing that rabbit.
What I learned
Learn how a shotgun patterns before you take it into the field (duh). I might have been too far away for a clean kill with #8 shot, or with that choke.
If you've only shot a pump shotgun at the trap range, where they permit exactly one round to be loaded at at time, you will be sorry in the field when you discover that it won't cycle correctly.
The kill was exciting, but it wasn't fun. It might have been fun if it had been a clean kill. Hearing a wounded jack rabbit cry is not my idea of a good time.
Seeing the mule deer herd was the high point of the hunt.
Jack rabbit guts don't smell bad. Just a bit of earthy smell. I was expecting worse from what I had read.
Jumping cholla still hurts.
I wasn't feeling very well, so decided to go try and find the bunny (the outdoors is a great distraction for not feeling so well). I took dad's 20 ga, a box of #8 shells, and went looking. I drove up to Table Mesa Road, ignoring the weird things my unwell head was doing, and parked just East of the Double-T ranch. After a few minutes of getting my gear ready, and making my usual phone call to let someone know where I am and when I'll be back, I was off. I walked down the road to the arroyo, and then North, counting my steps so I'd know when I got a quarter mile from the ranch house (the state of Arizona gets cranky if you hunt too close to structures). Now, I'm mostly expecting a nice hike, since the bunny population appears to be down due to the 3rd month in a row of no rain. Coyotes appear to be doing well, however.
The first bit of luck: There was a decent wind blowing, and right in my face. Maybe that will help to keep all the noise I make away from those big bunny ears. I remembered something I read on here about looking where you're going to put your feet, then raise your eyes and walk those steps without looking at the ground, so you can watch for movement in the distance. Why didn't I think of that? It works, too: About half a mile up the arroyo I was treated to the sight of six mule deer coming out of the draw perhaps 70 yards away. I froze, they froze, and we spent a pleasant five minutes looking at each other before they bounded off. They sure were pretty. They were all doe, I think... no horns, anyhow. I'm a city boy: what do I know about deer?
Continuing the hunt, I got all the way up to the ridge, perhaps a mile from the ranch. If I turned West I'd be on the rancher's land, and if I turned East the wind would now be at my side instead of in my face, but at least not at my back. So East it was. I angled East and start coming up out of the arroyo, and what do you know, there's a jack bunny coming up the other side. I got the shotgun shouldered just as he froze and looked back at me. Mighta been 30 yards away, but I have a hard time judging distances in the desert. Safety off, sights on it, and kabam! Holy cow, I forgot my ear protection. My ears were ringing as it stumbled, cried, and moved towards a nearby palo verde tree. That's when I discovered that dad's pump shotgun doesn't pump! Either it's broke or I don't know how to work it right. Bad on me, but I got another shell in quickly enough to take another shot at the bunny as it comes to rest under the tree.
My heart was sure pumping. I decide to wait a bit to calm down. I got a third shell into dad's single-shot pump shotgun in case the bunny comes out from under the tree and waited until my heart rate got back in the double-digits before heading towards the tree. I was watching the tree so hard I didn't even see the jumping cholla that I tried to walk through. Oh, son of a gun! I guess I wasn't calmed down enough. Nothing to do but get out the multi-tool and go to work. I got lucky and got the pod away without attaching too many more spines to my knee The spines are barbed, so ya just gotta grab 'em with pliars, grit your teeth, and pull hard. I got off easy with only a dozen spines. Jumping cholla is a hungry cactus.
Another 20 steps from there and I was at the tree, relieved to find the jack dead at the base of it. After having to take two shots at it, I was dreading the prospect of it having gotten away, wounded and suffering. The cry it made when my first shot only wounded it was bad enough. Once I knew it was dead I sat down, hoping to calm down some more. This is the first game I've ever taken, and I was just wired.
When I picked the bunny up I discovered why it had stumbled with my first shot. One of its rear legs had been busted.
Well, now I've got the thing, and I've got to clean it. No getting out of it. Out come the nitrile gloves and my small game knife. It seemed awful sharp at home, and it probably is, but doesn't seem so sharp with all that thick fur in the way. Still, I fumbled my way around and got the entrails out. I spilled some green gunk from a piece of gut, but I think I kept it off of the meat. You country boys would have been shaking your heads to see how badly (and slowly) I managed it. At long last I found the liver, which was a nice, healthy looking red with no white spots. By this point I wouldn't have minded finding disease and having to toss it. The combination of having wounded it with the first shot and of getting much more personal with an animal's entrails than I ever have was making me wonder if there was just too much city in me to let me take up hunting.
In my fertile imagination, I thought I might come home with a collection of game for the pot, but I was still so wired that I didn't think I can muster the calm, slow steps that got me this rabbit. And maybe a bit unhappy with myself for the poor kill. So, I decided, my first kill would be the only kill of the day. That's when I discovered that you can't hang a gutted jack rabbit from your belt and expect to get back to the car without getting pretty messy. I don't even own any real hunting clothes. I've got jeans on, and being the city boy I am, it's even one of my nicer pair. Good thing I carry some garbage sacks in my pack. It looks goofy, this big ol' jack-in-a-sack hanging from my belt, but at least I won't ruin these jeans.
Back at the car, I called sweetie up to let her know that no rescue would be needed today, tossed the jack in the cooler, and headed home.
I won't bore you with my slow amateur job of dressing the jack. I found only five obvious wounds from shot... maybe I was farther away than I thought. Most of the shot was between the skin and the muscle. One of the long muscles in the back had a piece of shot and a lot of bleeding, and there were two pellets that got to the innerds.
I ended up with perhaps a pound and a half of meat in the freezer. I probably wasted half a pound of good meat, city boy that I am.
Oh, and I never saw a cat as interested in the kitchen counter as when I was dressing that rabbit.
What I learned
Learn how a shotgun patterns before you take it into the field (duh). I might have been too far away for a clean kill with #8 shot, or with that choke.
If you've only shot a pump shotgun at the trap range, where they permit exactly one round to be loaded at at time, you will be sorry in the field when you discover that it won't cycle correctly.
The kill was exciting, but it wasn't fun. It might have been fun if it had been a clean kill. Hearing a wounded jack rabbit cry is not my idea of a good time.
Seeing the mule deer herd was the high point of the hunt.
Jack rabbit guts don't smell bad. Just a bit of earthy smell. I was expecting worse from what I had read.
Jumping cholla still hurts.
