Stories

The Rabbit Hunt
E. Lowry Moore, II

(minus one Browning featherweight Auto-5 with gold trigger)

It was a cold winter morning around 1978 when I picked up Jack Slade on our way to the farm to rabbit hunt. We had no dogs, no food or water but we were just going to walk a few yards apart for several miles around the farm to see if we could jump one. We were walking the Stonewall section when we jumped this great big swamp hare. It happened fast…I don’t know how but I shot this monster. This rabbit is the largest I have ever seen to date anywhere and we had killed it. We were so excited because usually when you would hunt for something like rabbit, you would end up getting something else like squirrel, turkey, or duck. Well the rabbit was too big to put in my jacket so we headed back to the car, my moms Oldsmobile Delta 88, and on to the Clarko area to try our luck over their. After walking all over and not seeing anything else, we decided to walk the field behind what was by then the ruins of Mr. Anderson’s house to get some artesian spring water and then we decided to check out the beehive that was half way down the field. That was when it happened, Jack jumped the rabbit and he ran my way! It was a one shot and drop deal and now we had 2 rabbits to show for our walking. To top things off, we went to the beehive and since the temp’s were in the 20’s, we decided to take the top off the hive. Inside the hive looked like about 10 air conditioner filters slid down side by side. The family had sold off the beehives after my grandfather had died, that we had scattered around the farm, but had forgotten about this one. There was hard honey all around the edges and we broke this off and ate it. It reminded me of the candy on the market called “Bit of Honey”. It was sweet and chewy and just enough, along with the water we had already drank, to feel like we had something on our stomach. You could hear the bee’s buzzing inside and when they would try to crawl out the bottom, which rested on a concrete slab, they just rolled off dead from the cold.

The morning had been incredible, we were so excited, cold and ready to head back home. We jump in the car and take off speeding down old Hwy 45 back to Meridian. We were reliving the hunt on the drive back and I cruised at 70+ mph when we heard this scratching noise going down the roof of the car, then a pop on the glass back window. As I looked through my rear view mirror, I saw my 5 year old Browning shotgun sliding off the roof of the car and hitting the asphalt and over 70 mph. The gun at first did cartwheels and then just started sliding. I hit the brakes to stop the car asap when Jack said go go go! The damn gun was still traveling at what must have been over 40mph! We drove just a short ways and then Jack got out to run to see what had happened. I was in shock and couldn’t get out of the car. That was the nicest gift I had ever been given and I finally get to start taking it out by myself and look what I had done. Jack calls out, “well, it’s not that bad”. Can you believe I went on to hunt with that gun for 4 more years before I traded it in? The gun looked like someone had sanded down the sight bead on front and the bottom edge of the stock. When you flipped it over, the gun did have some deep scratches in it but when I did finally trade up for a bigger gun for duck hunting, it was a straight trade. I traded the gun for the Remington 870 pump that I currently have.

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