February 25, 2012
Brewton,
Alabama
I have dreamed about
this hunt since I was a young boy. I remember going to Christmas parties when
I was a child and hearing about all of the exciting and funny stories that my dad and granddad told of the days they spent rabbit hunting. My granddad owned a pack
of beagles when my dad was growing up. I’m not sure if it’s the
nature of every hunter to stretch the truth about the quality of their hunting
dogs but my granddad will still to this day tell you that they were they best
rabbit dogs in Jefferson County. These stories got me more and more excited
about going on a rabbit hunt. I remember telling my granddad that I was going
to go on a rabbit hunt and how excited I was about continuing a family tradition.
I started my third generation rabbit hunt early in the morning at a gas station near Brewton, Alabama. I rode into
the hunting property with my co-worker, Johnny. We let the dogs out of their boxes and I loaded my granddad’s browning auto 5 while the dogs patrolled the nearby woods for rabbit scent. The shotgun I was using had been
passed down from my granddad to my brother, Garrett. Garrett was generous
enough to let me borrow the gun so I would get the whole experience of what my
family has done for generations. We
were hunting a pine cutover; we walked the roads while the dogs dug through the
underbrush. We had a few false alarms as the dogs picked up on old rabbit
trails. Then finally, the dogs jumped a rabbit and chased it out of hearing
range. Johnny, knowing that I had never been rabbit hunting told me to get set
up on the road exactly where the dogs found the rabbit. Rabbit’s do something
very unusual, when being chased by dogs, they will run in a large circle and
will run back to spot where they started.
I got set up on the road
and listened as the dogs left hearing range, shortly after I caught the sound
of the pack as they had made the turn and were headed back my way. I waited and
listened as the sound of the pack got closer; listening even closer for any
sounds of the rabbit that would surely be out front of the pack. Then I heard
what I was waiting for, a broken branch about 30 yards away. The rabbit jumped
onto the road almost landing on the end of my shotgun. He took a quick bounce
and started hopping down the road. I put the bead of my granddad’s browning on
the rabbit and made the gun a third generation rabbit killer. I
bagged the rabbit and got the nickname ‘no miss’ Nick. No one expected me to be
able to hit a rabbit on my first shot. That was the only rabbit that we shot that day but we had several races throughout the morning. We stopped by a nearby creek on the way home and Johnny showed me how to clean the rabbit. It was a nice south Alabama cottontail.
I got set up on the road
and listened as the dogs left hearing range, shortly after I caught the sound
of the pack as they had made the turn and were headed back my way. I waited and
listened as the sound of the pack got closer; listening even closer for any
sounds of the rabbit that would surely be out front of the pack. Then I heard
what I was waiting for, a broken branch about 30 yards away. The rabbit jumped
onto the road almost landing on the end of my shotgun. He took a quick bounce
and started hopping down the road. I put the bead of my granddad’s browning on
the rabbit and made the gun a third generation rabbit killer. I
bagged the rabbit and got the nickname ‘no miss’ Nick. No one expected me to be
able to hit a rabbit on my first shot. That was the only rabbit that we shot that day but we had several races throughout the morning. We stopped by a nearby creek on the way home and Johnny showed me how to clean the rabbit. It was a nice south Alabama cottontail. 