Pennsylvania Game News - November 2010 - 30

thornapple and scrub pine. It was a rabbit’s sanctuary — a place to shake the dog by a series of intricate maneuvers through the goldenrod and briars growing between the thornapple and pine. I knew Tip, though, and was confident he would stay with that rabbit as long as it didn’t hole up, and if it did hole up, Tip would come back and let us know. Sure enough, after 10 or 15 minutes of silence, I heard just the faintest sound of Tip’s bawl. The dog was coming back along the top edge of the woods, and unless I was wrong, it was only a matter of a few minutes before the rabbit would be coming downhill along what had once been the stone wall. I whispered to George, “Get ready.” It was almost a repeat of the first rabbit, except that this one was coming much faster and I used the right barrel instead of the full-choked left barrel. The rabbit tumbled on that same hump of terrain, and again we waited for Tip to come through. “Well,” I said, as I slit the rabbit’s belly from stem to stern, “That’s two of ’em. We’ve got two more to go.” George looked at me, his face a mixed expression of pride and defeat, his lips a pale blue. “We don’t have to get the limit,” he said. “Two’s enough.” I thought about it for a few moments and then said, “Tip has already gone looking for another one, and as long as he’s willing to hunt, we don’t want to disappoint him, do we? Are you cold?” George gave a slight nod, admitting he was cold, and just about that time Tip let out a series of yips indicating he had stuck his nose on a hot one. The entire hollow vibrated with the intensity of his voice, and I saw a slight grin flicker across George’s face. He was cold, but he wasn’t ready to quit. This rabbit ran differently than the
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others — it stayed deeper in the woods, avoiding the edges of Mallory Run and the thornapples and scrub pines at the far end. But when he started coming back along the top edge of the woods, I figured it would turn downhill at the stone wall, and so got back at my original position where I could watch that hump of ground. Minutes later I heard Tip give voice as he turned to follow the rabbit along the top edge at the far end of the woods. I smiled and shifted the Lefever to high port. We waited, letting the seconds stretch into minutes — listening to Tip come across the top edge of the woods, and wondering when the rabbit would come streaking along the stone wall. Then Tip’s voice changed. He had not reached the stone wall, but had turned downhill parallel to the wall, deeper in the woods. The rabbit had come downhill behind us while we were watching that hump of land. We stood there and watched Tip go past us in the woods, 30 or 40 yards away. George looked at me and said, “Can rabbits think?” I didn’t answer him then, but took another position while the rabbit circled, again turning downhill short of reaching the stone wall. The safety slid forward, and when the rabbit came into view, I fed him the left barrel. Then, as I picked the stillsmoking shell from the chamber and stuffed it into my pocket, I told George, “I don’t

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Pennsylvania Game News - November 2010

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