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The Rabbit Journal originally started out as a way to amuse family and friends. But it has started to attract other rabbit hunters and to you I say "Welcome". Feel free to comment, email and suggest. Just keep it clean

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The Rabbit Journal Tales

Martin Luther King Memorial Day Rabbit Hunt XIII

MLK Day 2015 was pretty good. Wasn't as good as some and certainly wasn't as bad as whole bunch of them.

I didn't have much to do with this hunt. Dylan got the land.
Plunker brought the usual stew and bbq
All I had to do was bring the fish fryer so Plunker could heat the food up.
And even then he had to make a special trip back to rabbit Run to pick it up in front of the barn where I left it.

Our Host Dylan
His gf
His Brother Sebastian
Their friend Clay
Middle Boy
Plunker who supplies our lunch every MLK day
and a surprise guest
me! I had been telling everybody that it was doubtful if I would be hunting at all this year much less the annual Martin Luther King Day Memorial Rabbit. Hunt


The first rabbit got away. We were near a busy two lane road. I was sweating bullets as vehicles whizzed by with the rabbit leading the dogs along the base of an embankment that lead up to the road.
On the second circle, I called the dogs off. Nothing ruins your day like a logging truck and a pack of beagles on the blacktop trying to pick up the trail.

Remember, Rabbit hunters are notorious liars.

And worse than most


Mid Day MLK update

5 for 6 went I had to leave

Update 2 Looks like I didn't miss much after I left
Final score 5 for 6

Clay 2
Brag 1
Dylan 1
Plunker 1

Coming Up, the 13th annual Martin Luther King Memorial Day Rabbit Hunt

But before I get into that, I need to mention that Plunker and Brag took the dogs to his pine plantation in Chambers County on Saturday.
They only had three races. And all three were in the area where I killed a nice buck rabbit on the first hunt of my abbreviated season.
I understand that Plunker and Brag were joined by Dylan, Sebastian and their cousin, Emily, who was visiting from South Carolina


On the plus side, despite the paucity of rabbits, at least they didn't embarrass themselves by shooting eleven times at the same rabbit this time since they didn't shoot at all. The negative side is we still don't know if Emily shoots better than her cousins.

It's time for our annual Martin Luther King Memorial Day Rabbit Hunt. This will be number 13. Hard to believe how it has grown since the days of just Brag and myself The oldest MLK story that I can find is #2 titled Ya lost my dogs?"

Our host this year is Dylan on some property near Hatchechubbee

I had already called all my hunting buddies and told them that it was highly unlikely that I would be huntig this year. The circumstances involving “2”, my 87 year old physical father, now an invalid precluded me from attending any hunts for the remainder of the season. But when Brag told me that the hunt would be only a short drive from my home on Rabbit Run, I got on the phone and asked, alright, begged my brother in law to stay with “2” for the morning. A half day hunt was all I could ask for and is a lot better than sitting at the house staring out the window wistfully.

I hasten to add it's not that my sister and brother in law won't care for my father. “2” has become entirely to dependent on me and, besides, some of the things I have to do are beyond their comfort zone.

Dylan assured Brag that the property is similar to Pookies, short pines and lots of underbrush. A rabbit hunt on new property is pretty much a crap shoot any way.

I'll try to have a half day update after I get home in the very early afternoon.

Getting fat, ain't you

Brag said with a poke to the stomach.
Well, not in those exact words.
What he actually said was “Looks like GF is feeding you a little to well” with a poke to the belly. It doesn't take a genius to translate that into what he really meant was “getting fat, ain't you”

I knew, of course, that Brag was just trying to be a little discreet, a unusual trait in our family. The discretion probably arose from the fact he was using The Rabbit Journal Pack and the collars without me.

Brag was way less discreet when telling me about the hunt at Beulah that morning. He reported that eleven shots were fired that morning at a single rabbit with multiple misses. I should hope so, otherwise there wouldn't have been anything to hold up for the picture when Dylan finally held it up.


We had hunted Beulah before. "A Paucity and Dearth of Rabbits" comes to mind as well as “The Trudge”
Neither of those times had yielded many rabbits. Brag told me that like one of our other hunts, there were pills every where but they just couldn't jump though they did end up having, I think he said, three good races.



Serving the leftovers early

An oldie but a goodie

Pup and the Thanksgiving Turkey

Here in the Southland, where I was raised so many years ago, dogs weren’t kept just to have a dog. They had to have some sort of purpose in life. Like watch dog or hunting dog or kids dog. Most of the time, one dog had to fill all job descriptions. And nobody had house dogs, they were all yard dogs. The closest thing to a house dog was family pet and in my family that was almost always the best hunting dog.

Uncle NoPass had two rules about his dogs. One is they were all female and two, they were all named for family and family friends. The naming rule, of course, caused all kinds of confusion like when he would be yelling for his dog, Judy (my mother, his sister‘s name) out the backdoor “Dang it Judy, quit licking your butt and get over here.”

Wedowee Hunt 2003

Dredging up old posts in a vain attempt to keep the content going until I can shake free to rabbit hunt. Unfortunately 2, my physical father, has a staph infection in his eye and my brother in law who spells me to hunt has been diagnosed with colon cancer. Anybody want to try their hand at writing?

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….”


I need a couple of fill'ins while I'm tied up with my dad.

Post stories and/or resized pictures of hunts, Opinion style thoughts on dogs, rabbits, and such

If you're interested, contact me at rimfire "at"therabbitjournal"dot"com


Two oldies but goodies

In the dark

And the original
Grubby and the Pumpkin Bottom Haint's

I might ought to quit

for the season while I'm one for one


Prayers are requested

for my brother in law, who is currently under the knife this morning in cancer surgery

Gentlemen, we have a problem

I have been writing about rabbit hunting in Alabama for the past 12 seasons.
Unfortunately, the Nucleus CMS is coming to an end and I have to find a way to import The Rabbit Journal to a new cms such as Joomla, Drupal or shudder even Wordpress or I will lose the past twelve years of writing. This also includes my political and news commentary sites. Yeah, I'm a pretty prolific writer

Has anybody had experience in porting Nucleus CMS to other CMS?

Back in my mispent youth

I actually enjoyed deer hunting. This was before the days of shooting houses, corn and such. It was the days where one actually hunted deer, mano e mano, not shoot them like they were cows in a feedlot.

So I thought I would recycle a tale from yesteryear

Surgeon General’s Warning
May be hazardous ….

Hover has risen from the grave

or maybe finally found somebody to throw his bail.

I tried to get hold of him several times last season, before finally telling Plunker that I thought he was either dead or in jail.
Nope, something about a girl wanting to kill a deer. The two things that ruin most rabbit hunters and he puts them together.

Hover was the one who gave me Samuel P Thumbsucker and Sister Sissy

We're headed into the second Saturday

of the 2014-2015 season and, once again, I'll be missing in action.

For those who don't know.
A few years ago, my physical father "2" moved in with the beautiful GF and myself as his memory and health declined. Since "2" had preformed the part of the father in the parable about the Prodigal Son to perfection ( I'll leave it to you to decide who had the prodigal son role), I knew what I was to do now.

His health has further declined. Last year, I could still take off for a few hours. This year, I'm pretty much a 24/7 caretaker. My sister, "MisDemeanor" is still working on her retirement and is of only limited help. The grandchildren with the exception of Jenn are useless on this matter.

Monday, he has to have some surgery for "nerve sheath" cancer. So between the cancer, copd and dementia,.......

Until I physically can't take care of him, a nursing home is not an option. He wouldn't last a month in one. Besides, if I can't take care of him, I couldn't rabbit hunt either

I can still get out occasionally, particularly later in the season when MisDemeanor and her husband are no longer trekking back and forth to their cabin in NC. And a road trip or two are not out of the question.
Hopefully, the "teats" and Charles and crew from last year will supply me with material until then.