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Saturday, November 09, 2002
It was a good morning. The air was cool and a very light patchy fog drifted
around us as we loaded the dogs in the boxes. Uncle "NoPass" Ted decided he
would ride with me in my old CJ-5. He clamored up into it despite his 82
years and immediately launched into a story about how he wanted to be a
driver in the army, but they decided he made a better point man in a rifle
unit in the pacific. Three years, nine months and twenty two days. Thank him
and the ones like him on Monday. He spun a few more tales that I really
didn’t hear above the hum of the mudders as we rolled down the highway, but
that was okay, I had heard them enough to be able to repeat them with him.
We hunted the old clay pits below Cuz’s house. It’s a low lying area that
tends to collect water and hold it in holes and ponds scattered in the calf
high grass that surrounded “islands” of thick briars and honey suckle. The
short grass made for a nice landing strip for the huge mosquitoes that breed
in the area. A loud splash was frequently followed by sputtered cussing by
someone who didn’t see a hole in the grass or got dropped when a mosquito
lost its grip. The main trails (roads) are good despite the gummy red clay
because the brick company hauled in broken bricks and chips to sort of pave
them. If you get off the main trails, you do so at your own peril despite
four wheel drive because the wet clay packs in the mudders and turns them
into giant slicks that just spin on top.
The dogs started hot trailing as soon as they were released from their dog
boxes. Panicked, the rabbit vacated one of these islands a few steps ahead
of the dogs and raced away in a short loop. There is no finer music in this
world than the sound of short legged beagles running hot and hard as they
fall over each other trying to be the lead dog chasing a rabbit they can see
in the short grass.
The rabbit popped back into our view sprinting out of a shallow ditch to one
side of Uncle NoPass. Showing why he spent so much time on point, he snapped
around and fired a shot from his single shot 20ga. The 7 1/2 shot staggered,
but didn’t drop the racing bunny. The rabbit raced into a hole in a two
story mesa of clay with
 the dogs and NoPass right behind. Uncle NoPass's
grandson, Brag, grabbed NoPass by the belt while he was on his hands and
knees, halfway inside the crack struggling to reach the rabbit and pulled
him back out while I kept the dogs from trying to follow into the newly
vacated hole. Those holes collapsed all the time and we didn’t want to have
to explain to my aunt about losing a dog. Or Uncle NoPass either.
NoPass had been bragging about his new dog that morning. “She’s a good’ un.
Want run nothing but a rabbit” he told us over and over. The dogs started
trailing again . Judy and Maggie, Cuz’s two dogs nosed around looking a
little confused as NoPass's dogs trailed through the grass. Judy and Maggie
came back to us and sat down with a air that said “ They’re lying. There
ain’t no rabbit there” just as the other dogs lit out bawling and crying
their way across the field and out of hearing with Uncle NoPass's new puppy
in the lead….running a deer. NoPass stood there for a minute and finally
said “That sure was a big rabbit, wasn’t it?”
We closed out the day with four rabbits. Proving once again that even a
blind hog….. I killed the smallest rabbit of the day. Usually, I just try to
speed them up a little. You know, to make it a little more sporting for the
other hunters. But since it’s harder to hit such a small running target, I
went ahead and rolled him as he zigzagged through the grass. Uncle NoPass
said I must have had made a pretty fair shot to hit something that small.
How did you get him to stop so you could hit him
Friday, December 20, 2002
GF took the day off, so I'm earning some points by taking her to see "Lord
of the Rings". That way she want complain to much when I tell her I plan to
spend New Years Day rabbit hunting.
Monday, December 23, 2002
Obsession?
Obsession?
You ain’t seen no stinking obsession till rabbit season.
Sunday, December 29, 2002
Just back from rabbit hunting with Cuz, Reubin and a few others. It's going
to be pretty intense around here till the end of rabbit season. Reubin got
two and I got one. There were some good races. Both the dogs and the hunters
are a little out of shape as the season is just getting started for us. By
the end of the season, all of the fat and most of our hide will be worn off.
Today was a day that I was thankful for GF’s last years Christmas present -
a set of snake chaps. Now only half of me looks like I took a bath with the
cats.
Back late this afternoon.
Monday, January 20, 2003
Two days of rabbit hunting has just about killed me. Man am I out of shape.
Deer hunting, unless you use dogs in a small club, doesn’t even begin to
prepare you for a day of chasing bunnies where you need snake chaps. Much
less two days in a row. Even the dogs were dragging butt by late afternoon.
Oh and speaking of snake, I saw one today. Just as I was stepping over some
brush. My feet stopped before the rest of me did and I though I was going to
pitch face forward on top of him. So I put my gun barrel out to stop me.
Then, of course, I had to worry about a plugged barrel while facing a deadly
Copper-headed Water Rattler. Alabama only has one type of snake and this is
it. I beat a strategic retreat.
SO WATCH WHERE YOU SIT
Yesterday’s hunt was a bust except for a small buck rabbit that Rye shot
when it tried to sneak past him in a briar patch. Not a wise move for the
rabbit, Rye has excellent eyes for someone in his sixties.
That was it. One little short race in a full day of hunting.
Uncle No Pass and his grandson, Brag, were to meet me in Seale at 8:30 this
morning after I picked up Judy and Maggie (dogs) from Cuz. I also picked up
Cuz’s grandson, Dusty, who was out of school for some holiday. At thirteen,
Dusty is a safe hunter and a cracker jack shot. He killed a buck this year
that had a 22 inch spread on his rack. I wish more kids were trained on gun
safety even if they don’t hunt. Be a heck of a lot less accidents.
We had several good races but only killed two and Dusty got both of them. As
he came toward me carrying the big buck rabbit, he said “How come you
miss…..twice?”
“I didn’t miss. I shot the first time to let you know he was coming and the
second time to speed him up. To make it more sporting when he came by you.”
Didn’t work” he said swinging the bunny in front of me.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Uncle “NoPass” Ted decided that we had to hunt Tuskegee National Forest last
Saturday. No amount of arguing about distance and convenience could change
his mind.
He thought he held the aces. They were His rabbit dogs. But Brag and I put
our foot down. We knew who would have to return to Tuskegee to pick up his
dogs in the event they got “lost” . Getting lost is the way Uncle NoPass
phrased it when his dogs “which ain’t never run no deer” run a deer.
Bright and early, Saturday morning we pulled into Tuskegee as NoPass told us
again how big the rabbits were and how fast they ran on some long ago hunt
in the national forest, some time after serving three years, nine months,
and twenty two days without a pass in the South Pacific. Hey, he tells them,
I just repeat them.
Dusty, from the January 20th post, and his dad came along. There are rumors
that the names of Brag, Uncle NoPass and Chuck were being banned by his
mother. It was bad enough, according to her, when all Dusty could think
about was deer hunting, a fairly solitary sport. But now, not only was it
All Rabbit, All the time, he’d started talking with the very strong southern
drawl and butchered sentences of Uncle NoPass and myself. He really got into
it when he told her he wanted a couple of bitches like Uncle NoPass had.
The three dogs, led by Kate, ran a flawless first race. Overrunning a couple
of turns , they recovered nicely to keep the race going. There was the loud
boom of a 12ga and Dusty came down the trail swinging a nice buck rabbit.
The next race helped the day to quickly descend into the outer rings of a
rabbit hunter’s hell. The dogs were cold trailing when a deer jumped up in
front of them. The startled deer took off pursued by all three of the young
dogs who had totally forgotten their manners.
They raced up the bottom and into a large bowl shaped bottom. Brag and I
could see, from our vantage point on the ridge, the deer bounding through
the scrub oak and blackberry thickets with the dogs in hot pursuit. Up the
steep incline, the deer topped the ridge and started down the other side
while I raced up trail to break the dogs off. Just as they topped the ridge,
I did too, from the other side. All three dogs briefly dropped, letting me
get my hand on Lady’s collar . The other two took off, still in pursuit of
the now distant deer.
Brag was scolding Lady about her wayward ways as I led her down the hill
when a rabbit bolted from a bush only a few yards ahead of us. I slipped the
leash at Lady’s pleading and the race was on.
Uncle NoPass and I worked our way back up the bottom from where our truck
was parked and around the end of the ridge trying to position ourselves for
where the rabbit would circle. The rabbit proved too much for Lady by
herself and she shortly lost it.
NoPass started up the steep hill at a slant as I trailed along with the dog
on a braided nylon rope. I asked NoPass why didn’t we just go back along the
creek to the truck. He drawled “I served three years, nine months and twenty
two days in the South Pacific without a pass, I know the way back.” I could
only trail along as we moved up to the top of the ridge and its breathtaking
view of the valley that lay before it.
Uncle NoPass paused and looked out over the gray winter woods below us,
before starting down at a slant away from the truck. I trailed along unable
to persuade him that we needed to head in the other direction despite the
three years nine months and twenty two days in the South Pacific without a
pass.
About ¾ of the way down, he looped back toward the truck. Brag could see our
orange vests as we moved across the face of the steep hill and moved the
truck to intercept the point where we would come out of the woods, onto the
road.
Uncle NoPass stepped out of the woods onto the dirt road only 10 yards or so
from the truck and turned to me with a look of triumph and exclaimed “ See,
I told you. Stick with me, I’d get you back to the truck. I spent three
years, nine months and twenty two days without a pass in the South
Pacific…….”
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Rabbit Feet
Brag and I had looked forward to Sunday’s rabbit hunt since the last one on
that property. It was on the last day of last year’s rabbit season that we
bagged 18 rabbits being run by only 2 dogs, Judy and Fat Maggie.
Judy, belonging to Cuz, by way of Uncle NoPass, is one of the best rabbit
dogs around. Short legged with a kind of terrier head setting on a low slung
body, she had the sweetest disposition except when it came to rabbits.
Then the Attitude presented itself.
Fat Maggie looks like… well, like Fat Maggie.
She is cursed with a nose that is too good and a body that is to slow. She
is also showing some age. Here lately she has been back trailing a lot and
barks continuously like she is trailing. The best way to tell if she’s lying
is to watch for Judy. If Judy goes to her, she’s telling the truth.
Brag and I put on our chaps waded into the nearly impenetrable tangles
behind Maggie and Judy. Judy was soon in hot pursuit while Maggie lagged
father and father behind till it sounded like she had left the track for
another one. One of the young Bucks with us nailed him after multiple shots.
You can often tell the age difference between shooters by the number of
shots. Most of the older shooters with semi’s seem to only fire one or two
shots versus the twenty-early thirty something emptying a five shot magazine
at a dodging twisting bunny like it was a video game. Most older shooters
seem embarrassed if it takes two shots. Different perspectives, I suppose.
Ok, I’m profiling with a grain of truth. I have to say though that I‘ve done
my share of multiple misses. Back when I was a young buck. Now, I only miss
twice since I’m using a double barrel.
I didn’t get hot till in the afternoon. I gave Cuz’s son, a rabbit foot that
Cuz had given me sometime in the past so I could, maybe, hit a rabbit. I had
hung it on my vest. Now, giving it back, I told him to tell Cuz I wanted one
that worked.
I was standing on a small firebreak with a Gator on either side of me, thick
brush in front of me and briars behind me when I heard some thing and looked
down. A rabbit had hopped out into the firebreak only a couple of yards from
me. Instead of bolting for the briars and safety, he flipped back in the
direction he had came from. I never put the gun to my shoulder. I just
twisted the barrel and fired a single shot. In front of two Gators full of
witnesses.
A few minute later, Brag jumped a rabbit out of a briar patch and it came by
me juking left and right moving at warp speed. The Fox 16ga touched my
shoulder on target and I rolled him…in front of witnesses. Again. How sweet.
The third one collapsed in mid leap for the safety of a briar patch as Brag
looked on.
Final score: 10 rabbits/3 mine
Looks like those rabbit feet aren’t any luckier for the rabbits than they
are for me.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Eighty two year old Uncle NoPass told me a week or so ago that my Aunt had
suggested that he quit rabbit hunting. His reply to me was
“I’m not ready to
die yet.”
Uncle NoPass has been a dog man his whole life. He often speaks of growing
up on a dirt farm near Wedowee, Alabama and his father limiting the number
of dogs he could own to 3. I suppose even three would be hard to feed in the
early twentieth century when there were eight surviving children in the
family.
On our Saturday rabbit hunt, he spoke again on the subject. This time he
said that he thought that this would be his last year. That he was going to
quit and give his two remaining dogs to Brag and myself, but he’d keep them
and take care of their daily needs. A lifetime of dogs dies hard. I think
part of the problem is not the two heart attacks or the two strokes he has
had in the past, but that his hearing has reached the point where as he puts
it “ I can’t hardly hear myself fart.” Not a good thing for a man who’s main
pleasure is hearing the dogs work.
The passing of his era is worrisome to me in that as I look behind me, I
don’t see many replacements coming. What is killing (no pun) hunting and in
some cases, fishing, is many factors from ignorant government teachers to
landowners barring all hunters or charging high lease rates that many can’t
afford to pay, to the fact that people are losing touch with their rural
roots and demanding that they (the urban dwellers) have the right to mandate
what residents in less populated areas in their states do by way of
referendums. Don’t get me started on that subject. Nothing will destroy our
Republic and liberty quicker than a true Democracy.
Meanwhile, on the rabbit hunt last Saturday, Uncle NoPass’s two puppies,
Kate and Lady ran their best race ever.
I jumped the rabbit from it’s bed at the base of a pine tree and it ran only
a few yards before stopping. An easy shot even for me, I passed on it and
instead called for the dogs. They readily came to me and it was Kate who
first picked up the hot scent. You can tell when the track is hot with her.
She has a squeal on a hot track that sounds like someone reached inside her
with a pair of pliers and tried to turn her inside out or if you’re a fellow
male like they took the pliers and…….. I’m sure you can figure that part
out.
The two dogs ran the rabbit for an hour. It would have been only a half hour
if I hadn’t missed with my first two shots. Remember, I said love hunting, I
never said I was any good at it.
I was looking intently across a hillside when I heard something behind me
and turned to see the streaking rabbit making a mad dash for a thicket. My
first shot threw up pine straw behind it and shifted it into a higher gear.
My second shot was merely a hopeless goodbye salute.
Since there was only the three of us (Uncle NoPass, his grandson Brag and
myself) I moved quickly down the straw carpeted hillside to the edge of the
bottom where the rabbit was jumped. I managed to get a shot as he completed
the circle. This time, the shot was so easy even I could make it. The big
buck rabbit was so far ahead of Kate and Lady that he was strolling along
glancing over his shoulder occasionally for the dogs. I let him lay after my
shot till the dogs caught up.
We had two more quick races before calling it a day. The young dogs and
Uncle NoPass can only handle a good half day of hunting. The dogs will
improve.
Friday, February 14, 2003
Good Morning:
It's rabbit hunt update time. All right, knock it off and read. There's only
15 days left.
Sunday’s rabbit hunt, while not spectacular, was really enjoyable for
reasons other than the number of rabbits.
In addition to the usual Sunday crew of Cuz, Rubin, Brag, Dusty, Cuz’s
grandson and myself was one of Dusty’s friends, Reed. While Dusty is getting
to be an old hand at chasing bunnies, this was Reed’s first rabbit hunt.
We started off the day on a piece of clear cut property in Pittsview.
Thickly replanted, the pines had reached large Christmas tree size and any
shooting would have to be between the rows at a limited distance. That did
not turn out to be a problem.
Cuz’s new dog, Little girl, by way of a trade with our mutual Uncle NoPass,
promptly started trailing until she jumped. Cuz had swapped Last Chance
(Last was added to his name because of my continuous threats to leave him
under a brush pile if he didn’t show some interest in rabbits) Back to
NoPass for Little Girl. NoPass wouldn’t tolerate a dog that ran a deer and
as I noted in my previous post about our hunt in the Tuskegee National
Forest, she was the one who led Kate and Lady astray that time. Cuz might
have been taking a little advantage of our Uncle’s slipping memory in
swapping a dog that wouldn’t run anything to Uncle NoPass, who had given him
to Cuz in the first place.
She was in full cry as she went up the face of the next hill and then over
it, fading into the distance. Judy, our main dog, never looked up.
Deer.
I don’t know which is worse having to hunt for a dog running a deer or
having one you can’t get out from under your feet unless you shot your gun.
Last Chance was a little gun shy on top of his other faults. Well, at least
you could find him when it was time to go home. Maybe Uncle NoPass didn’t
get the raw end of the deal after all.
We beat the brush and briars for the rest of the morning and never got a
race. We had decided to break for a lunch that consisted mainly of souse
meat, hot sauce and crackers when Judy jumped. The race lasted only a minute
or so before Brag killed the rabbit. Then Judy jumped again and after a
short race, Reed killed his first rabbit in front of dogs. From the way he
acted at lunch, I suspect another rabbit hunter has been born.
We moved back to Seale to finish out the day at the old beaver pond. It
hadn’t been run in a few years and it was on the way home. Brag was on fire
and added two more rabbits to our bag of five for the day. Both were shot
after nicely run races by Judy and Little Girl. We put leads on the dog as
the light faded in the overgrown bottom and Brag and I made plans to bring
Uncle NoPass back today for an afternoon hunt. I’ll post the results later.
February 19, 2003
Rabbit hunt today at 11:00am. I’m to pick up Rye + Cuz’s dogs at Cuz’s house
and Brag and Uncle NoPass will meet us there.
We are hunting a small hundred acre clear cut that wasn’t replanted near the
Salem-Shotwell covered bridge. It’s a beautifully constructed, isolated
wooden bridge that was built with wooden pegs instead of nails.
Briar and scrub brush heavy , it looks to be a natural rabbit heaven. It has
three, twenty five acres or so, bowl shaped bottoms filled with cane briars
and scrub oak decorated with honeysuckle. The balance is on a long slope
ending in a hardwood bottom, that in a rainy year, would be ankle deep in
water. But since the last few years have been so dry the rain that we do get
seems to soak into the ground fairly fast.
But first, I have to pick up a $99 swivel rocker recliner with a swivel
ottoman from Kmarts for 2. I dropped one off last night. Why 2 wants two of
them I don’t know.
Talk to ya’ll later
Saturday, February 22, 2003
Good Morning:
I'm going with 2 to the BassPro Shop and Boats US stores in Atlanta, this
morning.The pucker factor should reach new heights today as 2 does the
driving in Atlanta. Talk to ya'll later, I hope.
I'm leaving you with another rabbit hunting update. Try to hold down the
excitement
Yesterday’s rabbit hunt near the old wooden Salem-Shotwell covered bridge
near Bleeker, Al was a success despite only taking two rabbits.
I pulled into Rye’s front yard at 10:50, ten minutes before the agreed on
11:00 am. Across the highway, I could see Brag and Uncle NoPass near Cuz’s
dog pen down by the lake. With the goat supervising Brag as he tended to
last minute matters, Uncle NoPass was waiting as patiently as his eighty two
years and limited rabbit hunts left would allow.
We loaded Judy into a box with NoPass’s dogs, Kate and Lady. and stopped by
Mr. Murty’s place out past the bridge. I had to drop off the hunting lease
payment for my son. He has one of the better payment plans that I’ve seen, a
fifth of Lord Baltimore Gin , and a pack of USA light shorts. The gin was
less than six bucks.
I pulled up to the entrance of the property and Rye got out and undid the
chain to allow our two truck convoy to enter the mud yard of the decaying
abandoned house. A single set of rabbit tracks crossed into a thicket
growing in what was the front porch. A good omen?
The closest thing to “Papers” our dog have is the ones we swatted them with
when they were puppies. Beagle mixed might be the most apt description of
them. Little short legged Judy was the Grande Dame of what passes for our
pack while Uncle NoPass’s dogs, Kate and Lady were just one season into
adult hunting and still committed the occasional faux pas of chasing deer,
although you’ll never convince NoPass that one of his dogs would do such an
unforgivable sin. Uncle NoPass’s Last Chance had his last chance and was
given away as a child’s yard dog. A suitable job position for a dog with his
disposition and general dislike of anything that appeared to him as
work--like chasing rabbits. We were down to a total of four dogs, not
counting Fat Maggie who was resting on past laurels.
We put the dogs on the ground and they nosed over the tracks, totally
ignoring them. Going around the house, the dogs nosed their way into a thick
stand of sweet gum saplings at the back of the “yard”. Lady began to talk
and Judy joined in. Soon all three dogs were in full cry . They circled
Uncle NoPass, who often said that he couldn’t hear himself fart, three times
in a tight circle through some incredibly thick cover. He heard this because
I thought he was going to corkscrew himself into the ground as I watched him
pivot around looking ahead of the dogs.
The rabbit peeled away into or across a deep gully. The dogs completely lost
the track and couldn’t pick it back up, so we moved on with Brag, the
youngest in the thickest of the briars, me , next on the fringes with Rye on
the clean hillside and NoPass on the logging trails.
I had joined Brag in the sea of “wait a minute” stickers as we cut across to
a ridge that stuck out like a finger between two of the briar filled bowls
when Lady started barking as a trail heated up. Judy confirmed it and then
the chase… “Boom”… ended. Brag had shot him as he passed by his feet. The
rabbit hadn’t moved until the tension became intolerable.
A few minutes later, in the same bottom, the dogs started sounding off at
our feet again. I only had time to yell for Rye to watch out as the flash of
white burst across the slight opening I was in. The rabbit instead hooked up
the facing hill before curling around past Rye. Having plenty of time, the
old Sweet 16 fired a single shot and a few minutes later the dog’s went
quite. Again the rabbit hadn’t moved until it was literally kicked from it’s
bed.
As we worked our way up the hills, out of the bottoms, heading vaguely
toward the trucks, I paused to kick a hollow hump of pine straw at the base
of a small pine. The humps are formed by pine straw lodging over a skeleton
of small dead limbs that have dropped to the ground. Pines tend to grow
straight and clean, with the lower limbs continuously dying and falling off.
I kicked the hollow hump with no results and went to kick it again. As my
foot started forward, I lost my balance and my foot crashed through the top.
Out squirted the rabbit, zigzagging madly into the next tangles before I
could catch my balance much less think about getting a shot off.
Judy who had been ran the day before, came tiredly to my excited calls and
quickly, although with what I took to be a remarkable lack of enthusiasm
picked up the chase. The rabbit hooked sharply back toward the bottom that I
had just climbed out of and into the sea of briars. Judy was not far behind
and I heard her as she hit pools of water that had collected from the
previous rains. She tried, but couldn’t pick up the trail through the swampy
bottom.
The gummy clay built up in the treads on the sole of our boots adding
unneeded weight for our tired body’s to carry. We hiked up a bare clay slope
to the trucks waiting in the muddy turnaround while we told story’s about
how bad the briars were, how steep the hills, how treacherous the rotted out
stump holes were, how full of water the bottoms were, how you had to step on
the rabbits to get them to run, how sticky the clay.....
It was a long hill and the story’s got shorter and shorted, till they were
only two words long. "Dang mud", or "dang holes" or….
Still, there was the sweet satisfaction of being tired from a sport that you
love despite or maybe because of, the story’s that will grow over the years
about the height of the briars or the deepness of the holes or even the
number of rabbits as the years and hunts pass. I could see it just as well
on Uncle NoPass’s eighty two year old face as on his grand son Brag’s.
Four runs, two rabbits. None of the four would run before being literally
kicked out of their bed. We decided the property would need our attention at
least twice more before the end of rabbit season, next week
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Good Morning:
Yesterday’s rabbit hunt was a great day--- for the hunters. I was hot
yesterday, accounting for 6 of the 16 rabbits, we took. My main competition
came from 13 year old Dusty, who killed four. I was a little surprised at
the results since Dusty is far and away, a better shot than I. Of course his
eyes are 37 years younger than mine and he has better vision than I ever
had. Brag and I ignored one of his suggestions that we take his gun with us
when we hunt the covered bridge this Friday. Since the school is less than
two miles from where we will hunt, we could pretty well guess what his plan
was. Instead we offered to blow the horn as we went by. As the regular
reader knows, The names of NoPass, Chuck and Brag are not popular with his
mother, at least till the season is over, and Dusty’s mind turns to other
matters like spring turkey season.
We had two other kids with us. Cuz’s six year old grandson, Follow, has
taken over the position that the dog, Kate, used to occupy by hanging out
under our feet. Kate discovered that her purpose in life is chasing rabbits.
Follow still has couple of years before that happens. Still it was nice to
hear the young voice yelling at Dusty “ He got another one.”
The other young man is being raised in a “bird dog trial family“. For him
hunting is as natural as breathing to this thirteen year old.
Now, if we only had a few more kids…
Thursday, February 27, 2003
Brag, Uncle NoPass and myself are spending the day hunting near Wedowee,
Alabama on Wednesday. I won't be back till late, so I'm posting a few pics
for ya'll to look at.
(run, he's got the slide show out)
It might take a few to download but at least I've spared you pictures of my
ugly mug
Friday, February 28, 2003
Sorry for not posting about the Wedowee hunt or yesterday's hunt where we
killed the 16 rabbits yesterday. I fell asleep in my chair after supper last
night. I'll make up for it this weekend.
Today is the last day of rabbit season 03. Brag, Rye, Uncle NoPass and
myself are hunting near the Salem-Shotwell bridge today to wrap up the
season. I'll talk to you later.
Saturday, March 01, 2003
Wedowee Hunt 2003
Uncle NoPass is always excited to go on what has turned into a annual rabbit
hunt in Wedowee, Alabama. It’s homecoming, of sorts, for my eighty two year
old uncle since he was raised on a dirt farm about 12 miles east of Wedowee.
He says that there are more rabbits, bigger rabbits, and the rabbits are
easier to shoot. He neglects to mention that there are more hills, steeper
hills and taller hills and that there are more briars, sharper briars and
taller briars mixed in with the planted pines that are planted thicker than
the bars on a jail cell. Not that I have any experience with jail cells. At
least here in the States. The Mediterranean is a different story and even
that was a bum rap. While I might have been instrumental in starting the bar
fight that quickly escalated out of control, I didn’t burn the taxi during
the riot. But I digress.
Uncle NoPass decided to ride with me to Wedowee while Brag drove Aunt Katie,
who would spend the day catching up on the gossip with friends who still
live in the area. She had to have considered it a welcome relief from
listening to NoPass tell his story’s to me again.
NoPass started talking as we were backing out of his drive.
“Three years, nine months and twenty two days without a pass in the South
Pacific. Did I ever tell you that I wanted to be a driver in the army but
they said that I shot to good for that and gave me one of those gangster
guns that fires three times before you could……”
“....Fred was his name and I knew him for a week or so before I ate him for
supper, one night in the Philippines. I served three years, nine months and
twenty two days without a pass in the South Pacific. Did I ever tell you
that I wanted to be a driver in the army but they said I shot to good for
that and gave me one of those gangster guns……”
Whoa! Wait! Ate Fred for supper? Don’t remember that one. It took some doing
but I finally got Uncle NoPass back on Fred. I wanted him to finish the only
story he had started in three years that I couldn’t finish for him.
“...I won Fred in a poker game in the Philippines when I was serving three
years, nine months and twenty two days without a pass in the South Pacific.
Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a driver in the army but they said I shot
to good for that and ……”
Finally my eighty two year old rabbit hunting partner got back to who Fred
was and why he ate him as we passed Opelika heading north on Highway 431.
“…..That’s how I came to win Fred with only a pair in a poker game. He was a
good’un for a monkey. Least ways, the man who lost him to me said so. But I
have to say that he was sure smiling for someone who had just lost such a
good monkey to only a pair of three’s."
"We got into a fight with some Japs that attacked our camp about a week
later. That monkey was so skeered that he crapped all over me and my stuff.
Got it all over the place, he did. Well I couldn’t stand that since I
already had to clean up my own mess and decided to give Fred as a pet to one
of the village kids that was hanging around all the time, scrounging things.
I know that when I was a kid, I sure would have wanted him. I couldn’t
hardly speak any Philippine , but I got it across that I wanted him to have
Fred cause I served three years, nine months and twenty two days in the
South Pacific. Did I ever tell you that I wanted to be a driver……”
As we passed Roanoke, Alabama, I steered Uncle NoPass back to the topic at
hand, which was since he had finally told me who Fred was, why did he eat
him.
“Later on, that boy brought me a bowl of stew to thank me for that monkey.
It sure was good after that crap the army fed me. I didn’t know I was eating
Fred till one of the other boys translated for me. I have to say Fred made a
tasty meal after eating that crap the army fed me for the three years , nine
months and twenty two days without a pass that I fought in the South
Pacific. Did I ever tell you I wanted….”
The rabbit hunt at Jim Paul’s place was a good’un.
I got to meet the legendary “Bob” that I had heard so much about. Uncle
NoPass had one habit he has never broke despite Brag‘s pleading-- He gives
away dogs. Good ones, bad ones it, didn’t matter. Bob was one of the
good’uns. “He was the best rabbit dog in these parts, leastways, everybody
says so” according to Uncle NoPass. Since all of NoPass’s dogs were the best
in these parts in his humble opinion, it took Cuz and Brag backing him up to
convince me though I wasn’t about to tell my uncle that. A little long in
the tooth now, Bob still ran three enjoyable races.
We brought Kate and Lady with us. Kate is little bigger and faster than most
of our other short legged dogs, so she fit in well with the pack long legged
beagles. She should since her sister and mother were in Jim Paul’s pack.
They jumped quick and it was off to the races. The rabbit led them in a
large circle on the thickly planted steep hill side. The heavy patches of
briars mixed in with the extremely thick pines handicapped the longer legged
dogs some and allowed Lady to occasionally lead the pack.
I had stopped in a patch of briars weighed down with honeysuckle vine that
was still mostly bare from the winter’s frosts and listened as the dogs
looped down the hill toward me. I heard something move in the wet brown
leaves and glanced down to see the rabbit, a little sager, slowly hoping
past me under the web of vines and briars. I only had to tip the 16ga. Fox
and pull the front trigger. A few feet in either direction and I, probably,
couldn’t have seen him.
The next race ended quickly as the rabbit made a quick loop that brought him
into Robert’s sights. Another double barrel, a 12ga. Stevens this time,
“banged” once ending the short race.
The third and final race of the day was a long one in the thickest growth of
pines, briars and honeysuckle that I’ve ever seen. You had to turn sideways
to pass through large sections of the steep gully riddled hillside. If you
shot at a rabbit in most of it, you had to check your boots for shot holes.
I positioned myself on the lip of a wide shallow gully that you could see
the bottom and far side in patches. The dogs had come through twice without
me seeing the rabbit when I decided to move to a narrow ribbon of a cane
break. Finding a tall stump where I could peer down at the marshy bottom, I
waited as the dogs brought him back around in my direction again.
Bam! Another double barrel, this time, Brag’s, only yards from me, unseen in
the extremely thick cover.
It was a good hunt and a good day. They all are.
© LCM3 2002
© LCM3 2003
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