posted on December 17, 2009 14:06 :: 6737 Views
I put a finger to the wind and called three guys, anybody up for some rabbit hunting. I got 3 solid yes’s. Saturdays are good for rabbit hunting since we don’t have safe ice so some of the boys who were successful deer hunting decided to try our luck with the local hasenpfeffer. We’d ruffed enough feathers earlier this year so I thought some ground pounding would be a big hit.
First guy to pull in the driveway informs me were in for a big storm next week with lots of snow and blizzard warnings. I handed him a splitting axe as we went over the possible hunting choices our day was to include since I never really followed his forecasting abilities to much. Mark can’t find brook trout or ruffed grouse so I don’t think he knows a hoots foot about rain or snow or myriad desert winds.
The next guy pulled in and said there was a tractor pull coming up the road so we all wandered down my driveway for the annual event. Going out the drive he said the temp is really dropping. Were making ice boys. I agreed, but not safe ice, I anchored the rabbit hunt.
The Mrs. of maybe four miles further north than me was driving the old farm truck towing her hubby who was manhandling what’s left of a tractor they use for snow plowing. That ancient piece of scrap was sputtering and barking and so was the old man steering the darn contraption that was back firing like a rifle shot about every two hundred yards or so.
Right there I thought to myself, if brother bill up the road is knocking the mouse nests out of the carburetor on that old tractor we might just be in for a good old fashioned storm after all.
The farmers parade roared along past us as the three of us waved and went back to splitting firewood. At our age we needed to simmer down, that was a lot of excitement for my yard in one day. With the last man arriving we loaded up my blazer, to include four guys, one dog, four scatterguns and three thermos of coffee, nine ham and cheese sandwiches and finally one bag of those mini snickers. The dog doesn’t get any coffee or candy; the dog gets the odd numbered sandwich.
With little or no snow on the ground the rabbit hunting turned out to be easier than we even figured. White rabbits, on brown ground, made for easy targets. During our late afternoon feast the wind kicked up just a little bit and the conversation turned back to the impending storm. They had been following the Doppler’s, local radio broadcasts and the evening news reports for several days, these brothers of the hunt were ready for winter. I just figured bill starting his tractor was all the weather forecasting I’d need.
The trout whisperer