HIgh Country Big Time Hunting (semi-fictional)

Like I said earlier, there really is no off season to the bow hunt. Everything that occurs between the end of December and mid August contributes to the goal of cutting a tag on a mulie buck or and elk of some sort. That is what it's all about. However, opportunities arise during the year that eclipse that goal.

Not too many people know this, but the state of Utah consistently produces world-class jack rabbits. As long as I can remember, I have had a deep respect for these majestic animals. The chance to hunt jacks in a premium area has eluded me until very recently. No doubt my prayers had been answered when I found out I was going to have a shot at hunting rabbits near Levan, Utah.

Anticipation was great leading up to the 15th of February. Two of my closest friends (who happen to know the habits and patterns of trophy jack rabbits better than most) and myself left Salt Lake City early in the morning. After a scenic drive to the obscure parts of central Utah, we finally arrived at base camp.

We were well pleased with the accomadations afforded us upon arrival at the High Country Jack Rabbit Outfitters Lodge. But, we were well aware that these comforts would be but for a short time. Ahead of us was the rough terrain these ghosts of animals that only a few million people have seen call home. We're talking mildly rolling hills, covered in sage brush that towered to heights that seemed to reach mid thigh. Not to mention that we were there in the heart of a harsh Utah winter. Many a times the snow would be at depths that covered my low top hiking shoes completely. Wind gusts of up to 9 mph were not rare as we set out on day one. (And by day one, I mean the only day we were there). Despite the time of year, the sun broke through the clouds, reflecting off the random patches of snow causing our faces to turn maybe an extra shade of red. All of this was worth it, we knew what laid ahead.

We headed to an area where our guides had seen some big jacks feeding the night before. Above is a picture of how I imagined we looked as we journeyed into the rabbit hot spot. Even though the hike felt like it went on for at least 14 minutes, we were to our spot in just under 11 minutes. We were ahead of schedule and in great position. Spirits were high.

Even though we were several yards from any sign of civilaztion the area seemed very populated with spotters and guides that would assist me in finding that perfect buck (and yes, male rabbits are called buck, females are does, but interestingly enough their young are reffered to as kittens.....cute). Patience would be key.

At first the action was slow. 4 1/2 minutes had already passed and I was beginning to wonder about the area. Sure there was fresh sign, but no movement. Another 33 seconds passed and I was about to give up. That is when all hell broke loose. About 15 yards ahead of me I heard a great commotion in the sage. I wasn't 100% sure what I was hearing until I caught the movement in my peripheral vision. Quickly I swung to look and saw a monster jack rabbit making tracks. He was really moving and was offering me a quartering away shot. Shoot! Shoot! was all I heard, butI didn't need to. This was my trophy, my moment, and I knew it immideately.

By the time I leveled my trusty Remington 12 guage that I had owned for so many hours, the mature buck had made it out to 20 yards. Most people will tell you that this is an unethical shot and should never be taken, but I knew what me and my ol' gun were capable of. Besides, I had Lorin not far to my left ready to make a follow up shot with a Beneli that he had shot many (6) times.

It was now or never. Giving this bunny a generous lead I squoze the trigger. The spray of the shotgun hit right where I planned, the head, neck, breast, chest, hind quarter, front and back leg area. Just like my dad always taught me.

"You dropped him!" Lorin yelled. I thought to myself, well of course. But, a rabbit of this caliber wasn't done yet. We got into close quarters of the wounded rabbit. He was doing the Homer Simpson dance, and we knew that if we got too close, he might make eye contact. My next shot would have to count. It did. The smoke cleared and there at my feet lie the trophy of a lifetime. We were all safe.

Scores on this bunny are pending. Mostly, we are all trying to figure out exactly how to score a rabbit. How much fur? Is that it? Not sure, but this one should do well. Here are some more pics of a job well done.

(above) The author posing with his "guide" Lorin.

(above) a proffesionaly done snap shot. This one really illustrates that this particular rabbit had ears.

(over there->) Another picture of me admiring my quarry.

(left) Just to leave no doubt about who harvested this rabbit, another very similar picture of me posing with the rabbit that I shot with my gun.

On a separate note: Even though this was a premium limited entry rabbit area, there were a few pheasants hanging around. We were fortunate enough to concentrate some efforts on birds. One of the funnest things around. Another special thanks to Brian Washington and Timpanogas Pools for making all of my wildest dreams come true.

As you can see we put some birds down. A good effort for all concerned.

Here is a dandy rooster that I made the shot of my career on.

One of the best days ever.