The dogs, led by Lucy, jumped the second rabbit only yards from where Rye had stopped the first one that was charging the paved road.
I was watching in Hover’s direction when I saw him tense up, raise his gun to his shoulder and fire a shot.
“Missed” was the call. And his life long record of 1 still stands.
Cuz and I had been standing fairly close together, only a few yards separating us, discussing his newest “free” dog. The rabbit bolted between us. Cuz started up with his gun, then waited till the rabbit cleared the gap between us before mounting his gun to his shoulder and firing a single shot
“Missed” was the call. Heck, I already knew that because I fired almost immediately after.
Missed was the call
The rabbit raced down the lane as I thumbed back the hammer for my second shot. In the excitement, I had forgot that I wasn’t using my double barrel sixteen’s. And, besides, they didn’t have hammers anyway.
One of the teats, Dustin, Cuz’s grandson, made the kill

Now a very cautionary note.
Careful.
When you have a collection of hunters in close quarters with firearms, be careful, both of your target and the backdrop.
Djmed had a piece of shot ( pretty sure) strike his eyelid. Djmed is a big boy, 6 foot, umpteen inches, 300 pounds. Not fat mind you. Solid as a rock.
Anyway, how did a piece of shot get that high, at the distance he was, when the rabbit was being shot at as he passed in close quarters?
Ricochet? There was a lot of water and hanging branches. Fortunately, there was no more damage then a pinprick

Hover had to leave early today. His wife was off and he planned to score a few points, to make spending so much time and money on the rest of the season a little easier. He called shortly after leaving to report that he had a change in plans. A call had come in that someone in Chamber’s County had caught Coco and he was swinging by to pick her up. She’s been missing now for over two months.
So much for the points

We had three rabbits by nine o’clock and the day was looking good.

The convoy, started out at a part of Pittsview that we hadn’t hunted in quite a while. And, I’m not using the word, “convoy” loosely. Nobody would accuse us of being “green” as Brag put it, we had eleven hunters in seven trucks when we pulled into the clearcut to park. That’s hardly carpooling.
But we were from a scattered area.
Hover was from Valley and was supposed to get home early to score some points with his honey. $3000 dollars a rabbit, he needs a lot of points. He brought his two dogs, Elmer and Dixie.
Plunker was from Smiths Station and he to needed to knock off early as one of his son’s need the truck for a hot date.
Djmed, the official t’shirt outfitter for the East Alabama Rabbit Hunters and Souse Eaters Social Club, came in from Auburn.
Wayne rounded out the singles.
Brag and I came in his little city truck with Mystery, Lucy, Kate and the copper nosed pup, Penny
Cuz and Rye came in Cuz’s truck and brought his pack consisting of Fat Precious, Lacey, and his newest “free” dog, Betsey.

The two teats, Dustin, “Right Teat” and his sidekick, Tyler, aka “Left Teat”, brought Cuz’s Boy. The “teat” nickname?
In short, they are at that age, where like a woman’s breast, if you see one, you generally see the other.

Mystery disappeared shortly after being turned out. We found her about 11 o’clock curled up on the side of the road. I’m in a quandary. Do I take her or leave her in the pen. Maybe a few days of competing with the coyotes before finding her again will sharpen her hunting instincts.
Just kidding…..maybe
The first race came quickly. And ended quickly with the bark of Rye’s Sweet 16. I saw the rabbit as he raced towards the paved road, but didn’t even have time to think about raising the gun to my shoulder. The big buck was scooting.

The second race, also ended quickly with Dustin making the kill. As did the third with Brag making the shot.
Those three races were all under a hundred yards and took place well before nine o’clock leading us to believe that we were on pace for our first double digit bag in three years.

Alas, it was not to be. “We” might have been legally allowed to bag 88 rabbits, but low single digits was our destiny.

The fourth race started soon after. It was the longest race of the day, ending with the rabbit escaping.

We had moved once and now returned to the original turnout spot for a quick tailgate lunch before moving on to the bird hunters place. We’ve had many a successful rabbit hunt there. Today wasn’t one of them. Ever since he cleared and burned the "back", the property has been on a downward spiral. At least as far as rabbits are concerned. Rabbit populations fluctuate according to cover, food, predators and a natural cycle.


Fat Precious hates a dog box. She is perfectly willing for you to pet her in the woods, but if she sees the trucks, she can be a handful to get up. I have say that the teats chasing her didn't help.


We moved back to our Pittsview property.
Plunker decided to stay a little later, something about it being good for his son to sweat the access to the truck for a bit. Maybe he would learn to quit customizing his ride long enough for him to actually drive it.
It was a fateful decision. One that would have a definite impact on his son’s love life, the body of his truck and his new reputation as a mudder.

We made a looong loop along the side of the abandoned railroad track before giving up for the day. When we came out of the woods, Rye was missing and not responding to our constant hollers..
Plunker drove his truck to the end of our property line to blow the horn for Rye and give him a ride if he came out there.
Finally those of us that were left heard Rye respond to one of our whoops from the opposite direction that we had supposed he was and he was across a deep water filled ditch. He would need to walk back to the main rode to get out, so Cuz went to meet him while Brag and I went to tell Plunker.
“That don’t look good” Brag said as Plunker’s truck came into sight. It was perpendicular to the rail bed we drove on.
When we got closer we could see that both the front and rear bumper were on the ground with a hump of dirt in front of each. In front of the dirt mounds were pine trees blocking any rescue from front or rear.
Soft spongy black gummy soil that was oozing water rose halfway up the rear axle.

It took a now dateless son to meet him at the fireworks stand on 431 with a tractor jack, wood, shovels, a come along, supplemented by some trial and error along with a couple of hours of digging to free him.
I think that Plunker was a little surprised that everyone stayed to help. Or in Rye and Cuz’s case, offer a lot of advice. That’s just one of the things that they are full of.
But we don’t abandon our own. Many’s the day that the dogless have helped hunt dogs or shared lunches or dry coats.
Besides, I’m going to need a new dog pen when I move to “Rabbit Run”.
Did I mention that Plunker runs a fencing business?