But first, any sympathy for Rye and his short lived "dry spell" is long gone. About all I’m concerned with now is the fact that I can’t hit my butt with both hands.

The first hunt on Thursday was at Charlie the Bugman’s. We finally jumped on the edge of a relatively thin hillside that was heavily populated with longleaf pine saplings still in their distinctive bush-like stage. I’m usually around pine plantations, so I’m used to seeing loblollies and longleaf’s are rare enough to get me to remark on it. As soon as djmed jumped the first and only rabbit at Charlie's, he was thrown off when the rabbit circled through the relative open area of longleaf pines above djmed, then heading into the bottom behind djmed instead of the direction that djmed watched leading into the thick wet bottom Charlie calls “The Swamp”. Pools of water, briars, vines and thick stands of canes and sapling hardwoods couldn’t stop the nine short legged beagles in their quest to catch the rabbit. These dogs seem to run their best in this environment. Back and forth at times skirting thin stands where you could have got a shot, if you had seen him. Finally, Rye’s old Sweet 16 "barked" and the Big buck rabbit was down. Now, for a while I had some sympathy for Rye and his dry streak, but I have to tell you it’s been used up. Cuz tells that Rye said “I’ll stand right here. He’ll probably cross down the road." And when Cuz was safely out of the way, Rye killed the rabbit.
Heh! That's from Rabbit Hunting 101, a tactic that I also have been accused of

Not jumping another rabbit, we moved on to another piece of property across Hwy 80 near Crawford where we had a good afternoon.

Totals
Rabbit Hunt 23 Februaray 2006
Cuz: 3
Rye: 2
Brag: 1
Earwig: 1
Rimfire: Well, you know I don’t keep up with such. But, as I mentioned above about my butt and both hands, I couldn’t hit two rabbits moving at slow speed at close range. Or at a faster speed at close range after I missed the first shot.

Lucy came across a thin screening of briars to say hello. After I stooped to scratch her ears, asking her to find me a rabbit, she put her nose down and started sniffing to the other edge. Suddenly she started barking that yard dog bark of hers. Lucy, in mine and Brags opinion is a mix of beagle and dachshund. She has the colors of the beagle but the elongated body of the dachshund. Unfortunately, she got the yard dog bark instead of a more melodious tone of a hound.

Her barks got more insistent and took on a growling quality. Dixie appeared and started trailing.
Lucy has a good nose and does fine in briars, but in the open, she often starts trailing behind the longer legged dogs. The two fastest dogs in the pack are Cuz’s “Lady” or Brag and my “Kate, who came to us by way of Uncle NoPass. Kate has a bad habit of short cutting the trail. It’s a habit I’m not happy with, but don’t know how to correct

Anyway the rabbit circled the briar patch and passed on the edge where I waited. I flipped up the 16 ga. Fox and missed a easy head shot at close range. My follow-up shot was equally futile.

The next easy shot came after I crossed an amazingly thick tangle below a lake dam. Someone above me, either Brag or Rye, fired a couple of shots and started calling the dogs.

I froze in place and assessed my spot. The briar patch above me thinned here for 20 yards before joining the thick tangle I had just crossed, a likely place for him to complete his circle.

It wasn’t long before I saw a patch of grey move in my direction. I waited till I had a decent shot.
The next ten seconds or so, were a blur that, thankfully, had no witnesses and/or camera’s around. Brag is still kicking himself for having moved from where he would have had a full view of what followed.

Yet again, I had a clean miss on a shot where the rabbit should have folded up. He sped up, trying to make the briars he had been jumped in. I fired my second barrel and the 7 ½ shot must have hit directly in front of him, because after he flipped straight up in the air. Instead of collapsing, he changed course, heading straight at me.

Shades of Jimmy Carter,
I twirled my now empty double barrel around and started to jab at him. The mental image of the 77 year old stock snapping caused me to pull up short in my thrust and twirl the Fox again trying to hit him with the metal barrel. He dodged and feinted, throwing my third swing at him off. At each wild jab, he faded like Ali fighting Joe Frasier, but still passing ever closer to my leg. Then, seeming to know I had fired my last shot and in contempt of my shooting abilities, he paused before disappearing on up the trial.

Yep, I’m in a serious slump and only a couple of hunts left.