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BEAGLES ADD MUSIC TO HUNT
by David Hart
A red line on Jimmy Robeson's face tells me what I already know: Rabbit hunting is tough business. A drop of blood forms in one end of the deep scratch, mixes with sweat and then trickles down Jimmy's face. It's after lunch in late January, the temp is somewhere in the high 30's and seven of us are soaked from a soft rain that has fallen all morning and the sweat that comes with plowing through thick, unforgiving brush.
We should be miserable, but Jimmy beams. He holds high the reason we are here, a cottontail rabbit that fell to his .410. But there's little time to celebrate. The beagles are yapping again, a sure sign that they've sniffed out another rabbit in this central Virginia clear-cut.
Rabbit hunting is serious business for this group of six men I am with. Two are retired, one is a welder, one sells food, Jimmy is a mechanic and the other, Jason, is a college student and the son of one of the older men. Their shared love of the outdoors, however, is strong enough to bring them together at least once a week in the winter. Only three have dogs — all beagles — but the rest jump at every chance to get in on a good hunt.
The beagles, a dozen stubby-legged tri-colored balls of fire, don't wait for us to give them a pat on the back for bringing us another bunny, they take off as soon as they jump from the dog box on the back of the trucks and spend the rest of the day doing what they were born to do.
It's not impossible to have a successful rabbit hunt without beagles, but it's more fun with the dogs. They not only do the dirty work of rooting out cottontails that would otherwise let two-legged hunters pass within a few feet, but offer a song that is music only to a privileged few.
Each dog, I learn, has a distinct voice. Robeson smiles like a proud father when he hears one of his own strike the first scent of the morning. A friendly competition threads its way through the day, with each dog owner announcing his pet's name as it catches the first whiff of cottontail.
Dedicated rabbit hunters carry .410 shotguns, their shells not much thicker than a pinky. But the smallest I own is a 20-gauge. I'm the new guy, a guest of Robeson, so the rest of the hunters go easy on me when I slide the Remington from its case and stuff my pockets with a dozen yellow shells.
Everyone spreads out in a loose line. We balance on stumps, slight mounds of dirt, anything to get a better view of the action we hope will take place in front of us. Although the chorus of beagles is fading, we know that in a few minutes, the rabbit will turn and circle back to where we stand. Rabbits always do that, at least, most of the time, says Jimmy.
We stay ready, watching for the faint movement of brown rabbit through gray brush. Somewhere down the line, the unmistakable pop of another .410 means someone else will be eating rabbit stew tonight. The cottontail did indeed return to its turf. I'll return to rabbit country, also, but the next time, I'll be holding a .410.
COOK IT UP!
Here's a recipe to turn your hunting bounty into a tabletop delicacy:
Beer-Basted Rabbit
3 pounds rabbit meat
2 tablespoons garlic salt
2 (12 fluid oz.) cans beer
Preheat grill to medium high and lightly oil grate.
Place rabbit meat on heated grill and season with garlic salt.
Pour beer into a medium bowl. Let meat cook 15 minutes, then start basting with beer every 10 minutes until done, which takes about 30 minutes.
