You'll have to pardon the crappy cell phone picture, but I just had to make a post about rabbit hunting. I recently went bunny blasting with my brothers in law Mike and Danny, and I had to show off some of the carnage. This was the result of an incredibly good (IE "lucky") shot taken from about 80-100 yards while this lucky bunny was at a dead run. I say the bunny is lucky because he's no longer freezing his bunny butt off on the snow covered valleys of Utah.
I enjoy a very special love/hate "relationship" with Lepus Californicus. Why do I hunt jack rabbits? I don't know for sure, but I have a few theories:
My foremost theory involves the binomial name for jack rabbits, lepus californicus. Perhaps my aggression toward this species of rodent is a latent manifestation of my dislike for Homo Sapiens Californifornicus, who are also multiplying in the rural and wilderness area of Utah.
Other theories include the fact that my ancestors were farmers and ranchers, the arch enemies of range pests such as jack rabbits and that it is in my genetic makeup to continue the good fight. I really just think that hunting rabbits is actually practice for the impending zombie invasion (it's not a matter of if, but when).
For all you bleeding hearts who can't believe that I'm killing poor little innocent bunnies... don't worry, with the way I shoot most of them aren't really in any danger. Besides, jackrabbits carry a multitude of parasites and diseases, including Tularemia. You'll notice that I'm using a glove to handle the partially decapitated specimen above.
The truth of the matter is that man is a natural predator. Our eyes are situated on the front of our heads (as opposed to the sides, like many species of prey - such as jackrabbits). Hunting is therapy for me, considering that most of my time is spent inside a "cage" tethered to a telephone and computer.
A few months ago, I was chatting with one of my company's clients in Florida. They asked me what I was planning on doing that weekend and I told them that I intended to "viciously assassinate as many jack rabbits as I could find, and strike fear into the hearts of those I could see but could not kill".
The client laughed hysterically at my mock psychotic rant and requested that I send him a "Blue petrified rabbit's foot". On a subsequent excursion, I was able to bring back what appeared to be a disease free foot from a lucky donor, and I proceeded to mail it to the client. I included a note that I was not practiced in dying animal fur blue, and that given a few million years and the right environmental variables, he would have a bona fide "petrified" rabbit's foot.
This was a big hit at the client's office - he called me the same day that his "package" arrived to thank me for his "gift" and we arranged that if he ever came out to Utah, I would take him Bunny Blasting. I'm no expert, but I think my brother in law Danny (who is an expert) would agree that I have a promising future in Public Relations.
In the mean time, don't the winter blues and $50 lift tickets get you down - suit up, pack plenty of ammo, and persecute the local rodent population.