Last week I was pleased to get a call from one of my farmers in South Bucks, to tell me that he had moved his horses from a paddock and wanted to know, when I could come over to shoot the rabbits, that were once again increasing in numbers. This small farm is one of three dotted along a rural lane and he grazes Dexter cattle on the other two, which both have elderly owners, who have also given me permission to shoot over their land. Having not visited these farms since the Autumn, he got me up to date, as to how the other owners were, before we agreed to meet this week.

An overcast, windy morning had given way to a bright afternoon, when I arrived at the farm, which has a mixture of grazing pastures ideal for the CZ HMR, while around the buildings I prefer the quieter .22 Magtech. The farmer was waiting as I drove into the yard and was eager to show me two rabbits feeding near the far fence eighty yards away. Without even putting on my jacket, the HMR was pulled from it’s case, a five shot magazine fed into place and the rifle cocked ready to rest on the fence for a shot. Unaware of the danger, the two rabbits were preoccupied and I sited on the one stretched out in the sun, causing it to leap up, when the bullet struck home. The other one ran in startled circles, before disappearing into the hedge.

With nothing visible, I walked into the adjoining farm, where from the gate I can see the length of a narrow ten acre field.

The sun was already low and it was the shadow of a rabbit, standing out almost black, that I saw first. With little cover at this time of year, I decided that it was better to shoot from 130 yards, than to chance spooking it by trying to get closer. Getting down prone for a shot off the bipod, with the magnification set at 12, I centred on the head, knowing that the light breeze would only drift the tiny 17 grain bullet a few inches at most. The rabbit just rolled over without a kick, the bullet passing right through it’s chest cavity and out the other side.

Continuing along the hedge line I saw no more, but circling back along the other side, a rabbit was sitting up close to the entrance gate a hundred yards on. As I got down on the ground, the sound of the bipod clicking into place, caused the rabbit to sit bolt upright, ready to run and wasted no time in squeezing the trigger once the crosshairs found their mark.

Back through the gate, a short walk along the path saw me overlooking the paddock again, where another pair of rabbits were busily feeding, moving from spot to spot. Further than the original pair, I followed one of them through the scope, the rifle again resting on the fence, until ready for the shot, that knocked it down.

I waited around with the farmer for twenty minutes, but there were no more shows, even in the 15 acres abutting the paddock, despite his assurances that it had been alive with rabbits that morning. Loading up the van, it is only a short drive down the lane to the third farm, where I took out the Magtech .22 for a walk around the farm buildings.

As I stalked the path, rabbits darted across it into the brambles through the fence, too fast to attempt a shot and I continued on to the field beyond, toward another warren in a hedge line. A rabbit was visible at 200 yards, but had melted back into the bushes, before I could get within range. The HMR could have taken it on, but I had made my choice of weapon and waited around in the cover of an old oak, in the hope of the rabbit venturing out again. Looking back, rabbits were out on the hill again and made my way back to the farm in cover, hoping to surprise a few, but sighting on the first, the sun now shining beneath the clouds ahead of me, was whiting out the scope. All I could hope for was to get as close as possible and pick one off, when they saw me and fled back to their holes among the brambles.

That’s what field craft is all about, learning the habits of your quarry. The rabbits did just that, potting this one as it threaded it’s way through the prickly jungle. Walking back to the van, I heard honking geese, the lady owner giving her flock their evening feed, going over for a chat to inform her, that I was back on the scene for another season.