A wet spring followed by sunshine and heavy showers, caused a growing spurt on the grasses around my local farms this year, closing the brief window available early on for shooting rabbits. After a frustrating evening with rabbits playing hide and seek among the nettles and thick grass on a large warren, I had decided to wait for haymaking to take place before venturing out again.

Assured that the contractor would soon be arriving to begin cutting and baling, I took a walk around to get the lie of the land, looking for latrine areas and feeding spots on another hot afternoon, while taking the opportunity to talk with the farmers, about their intentions once the grass was cut. Finding out when and where cattle will be put out to graze will also help, when planning a visit. An area already partly cut was pointed out, which had a couple of rabbits in full view, but they were too far off for the Magtech, although an easy shot for the CZ 452 HMR locked in the gun cabinet at home. Noting this for an evening visit next week.

Moving on to the next farm down the lane, two rabbits were lying out in the shade as I drove slowly into the yard, but as I watched, they got up and melted back into the undergrowth. Picking up the Magtech and loading a full ten shot magazine, I moved a few steps at a time listening for movement.

At the gate I stopped and waited, to my left was good view into the empty barn and a grassy area beyond, while ahead the track was bordered by long grass, a clear rabbit run passing down into a green depression in the ground, that sloped up to the wall of the barn, the grass cropped short by nibbling teeth. At the gate I had clear site of the area 25 yards away, with several runs giving access from a bed of brambles. The ideal place for an ambush.

A rustle through the grass to my right on the other side of the fence, was probably one of the rabbits disturbed earlier, passing unseen along the rabbit highway, watching with the rifle poised as the grasses parted past me. Now on my side of the fence, I glimpsed its raised ears. It knew my intentions and flat to the ground it crossed the track into more long grass. Through the scope I could just make out the brown fur of its body. It came out of cover and dropped down into the depression, as I squeezed the trigger, hitting it in the body, bowling it over, but not out, as it scrabbled for one of the bramble exit holes. Crack, the sound of bullet on bone stopped it dead with a clean head shot.

 Walking to the next gate, I disturbed another rabbit, that picked its way through the brambles only yards away, but out of sight. A shot, or two, blind into the brambles may have hit it, but there it would have stayed, a waste of meat.

I walked back to the farmhouse to show off my prize, being assured that the grass would soon be cut, the concern being that the feed quality of the hay would be reduced with each dry day. I look forward to the days of no hiding place again.