Pennsylvania Game News - November 2010 - 31

know whether rabbits can think or not, but if they can, this one thought wrong.” When Tip came through, he stopped to be petted and congratulated, as I slipped the leash from my coat pocket. He knew what it meant and wanted no part of it. With a sudden lunge against his collar, he broke away from me and was on his way for number four. I turned to George and asked, “Still cold?” “A little bit,” he admitted. “But I’d like to stay long enough to get one more.” I nodded. “Okay, we’ll give Tip a chance to work one more. And while he’s doing that, why don’t we work our way down to the creek and then back up along the stone wall. Maybe that will warm you up.” We hadn’t taken three steps downhill when Tip opened up at the far end of the woods, his voice tinged with excitement that told me this was a hot one. We forgot all about going downhill and hurried back to our original position near the old stone wall and the now-familiar hump of land. In the far distance I could hear Tip sounding off as he followed the scent uphill at the far end of the woods, and I knew then that the rabbit was at least halfway along the upper edge of the woods and coming fast. I swung the Lefever to high port and kept my eyes riveted on that hump of land. I saw the rabbit coming and was pressing the rear trigger when the rabbit abruptly turned to my left and the load of No. 8s erupted in the leaves five feet behind it. Quickly I swung ahead and emptied the right barrel, but would have been as well off throwing a handful of stones. I glanced at George. Very discreetly he suppressed a grin and kept his mouth shut while I dropped a pair of fresh shells into the chambers. Right at that time I didn’t know which direction to take, so we stood where we were until we could make out Tip’s direction of travel. From the far end of the woodlot his voice indicated a downhill turn and across Mallory Run into more overgrown fields of thornapple and scrub pine. This rabbit was a long distance runNOVEMBER 2010

ner — a truly experienced woods rabbit. While we could hear Tip going uphill on the far side of Mallory Run, George and I hurried downhill about 30 yards inside the woods from the old stone wall. When we reached a position on the slope just above where the land leveled out along the creek, we stopped and waited. Tip had now started across the upper edge of the thornapples, and I figured the rabbit would be well on its way downhill toward Mallory Run. What I didn’t know was whether or not it would again cross the creek and follow the stone wall uphill or whether it would stay on the far side of the creek. Tip had made the downhill turn, headed for the creek, and if the rabbit had chosen to cross to our side of the creek, it should be coming along the stone wall about now. My thumb put pressure against the safety — just enough to let me know it was still there and on safe. No rabbit. Then George put his hand on me and pointed. There was the rabbit on the flat bordering the creek, but instead of coming uphill along the stone wall, it had abruptly turned upstream along the flat. It was a long shot, but with hardly a second thought I led the rabbit by a good five feet and tripped the rear trigger. A blossom of leafy disturbance enveloped the rabbit, and its run was finished. That was 50 years ago. Tip has long been gone, and now lies buried under a 50-foot Norway spruce in our front yard. Never do I walk past that tree without thinking of him and feeling a lump in my throat. Sometimes when the breeze is just right, it seems I can hear his voice coming from the upper reaches of Mallory Run, and I know that once more he’s after an old woods rabbit in Paul Stevens’ woods.
31
Pennsylvania Game News - November 2010

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Pennsylvania Game News - November 2010
