So today I went hunting for the first time. I've shot a few things before, but they were opportunities that just presented themselves when I happened to have a gun with me. This time, I went out with the sole intention of shooting rabbits. You see, we're overrun with them. So I dressed myself in whatever camo I could find; a Mossy Oak Breakup long sleeved tshirt and some 'fashion camo' pajama pants. I wrapped my .22 with some camo net and also draped some over my head. Yes, I looked ridiculous.
Onward. The easy part is that I know where the critters eat, as my dog finds massive amounts of droppings there, and it's a nice clearing surrounded by trees with little or no undergrowth. I checked weather.com to see when the sun sets, looks like 8:27pm today, so I headed out at 7:45 and found a nice spot next to a tree to lay down. After waiting for about 15 minutes, I realized a breeze was picking up from behind me, so I moved farther away from the clearing and into a denser part on some leaves, out from between the wind and where I expected the critters to show. This spot was very nice and soft, and let me tuck myself into the leaves very well, but I soon found out that I was making way too much noise with even the slightest movements. I moved again, this time on a bare spot a few yards away. After realizing this spot was too low, I checked my watch, 8:20. At this time, I decided to stay put as it was getting darker and I knew the buggers would be out soon. Soon, I noticed the ground was very cold in this spot, and with the cold breeze on my back, I wasn't sure how long I could hold out here. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I can't lay prone and hold my head up off the ground for half an hour, especially with glasses, I can't just tilt my eyeballs up and look through my eyebrows, because there's no lense there to see through. So I lay my head down on the ground between my arms as I'm holding my rifle, slowly lifting it every minute or so to check for rabbit ears. Nothing. Man, between the cold soggy ground and the chilly breeze, I was freezing, and soon I started to shiver. I looked at my watch again, 8:30 (don't remember exactly), and I resolve to stay a bit longer. After a while, I decide I've had enough, and I lift myself slowly to make one last check.
About 50 yards away, I see this little spot that's a bit darker than the dry grass, and I shuffled a bit to turn my rifle that way and check it through my scope. As I lay there staring at it, it took me a while to notice that it was indeed moving. It was slowly, calmly eating grass; so slowly, in fact, that in the twilight I had trouble seeing it was a rabbit. Naturally, I started to shake as I repositioned myself into a comfy position to take my shot. To calm myself, I watched for a minute or two as it grazed away, then I flicked off the safety. With the crosshairs just behind his eyes and below his ears, I pulled the trigger. You know what they say about the loudest sound in a gunfight, right? Well, this click was deafening alright. I check to see if Buggs noticed, no, he's still eating, only looking up once in a while. I figured it was a dud; these Blazers are accurate in my gun, but I get a dud or two in a box of 500. So I work the slide back as quietly as I could, every sound makes me cringe, but as I near the end of the pull, the dud still hasn't fallen out. Great. I try to use my fingernail to extract the round, but I'm having way too much trouble. Finally, I drop the mag and use both index fingers successfully. After quietly sliding the mag back in and working the bolt agonizingly forward, I check the scope. No rabbit. You may be able to guess how I felt at this time.
I decided to check around to see if it went behind a tree or the tank a few feet to the right before giving up. To do that, I crawl forward and to the left a few feet, with my rifle in one hand and my homemade bipod in the other. I take a peek, and sure enough, dinner is behind the tank. After more crawling, and at one time forgetting my bipod a few feet behind me, I finally have a clear shot. Using my foot to drag the bipod within reach, I again thought I gave myself away. Not quite, but this time he was getting cautious and sitting upright to check things out for sure. With the bipod under my rifle, I steadied myself and tried to regain my calm before pulling the trigger. Click. "What the hell?" I ask myself. Once again I slide the bolt back and peak inside, sure enough, in my care to quietly put the mag back, I hadn't seated it properly and the bolt simply overran the top round. Pushing the mag firmly into place, I brought the bolt forward once again, this time feeling it strip the round off and into the chamber. Now, once again I check my quary, and it seems to be calm again, so I don't need to rush. Take a few deep breaths, count to ten. I'm shaking. Doubts start running through my mind; what if I only injur it? Then, I pull up my courage, tense every chilled muscle in my body and keep myself steady while lining up the crosshairs. This time, the rabbit flew backwards from the head shot and twitched for a few seconds. By the time I sprinted that distance (I later paced out 60 yards) I had shed various camo nets, casings, rounds, a bipod, and my breath to arrive at the most difficult shot, the "make sure it's dead" shot. I was now shaking tremendously, from being cold and holding back shivers for 15 minutes, from the adrenaline rush of the year, and from a record-breaking sprint after nearly an hour of almost perfect stillness. It was over, and what a rush.
Onward. The easy part is that I know where the critters eat, as my dog finds massive amounts of droppings there, and it's a nice clearing surrounded by trees with little or no undergrowth. I checked weather.com to see when the sun sets, looks like 8:27pm today, so I headed out at 7:45 and found a nice spot next to a tree to lay down. After waiting for about 15 minutes, I realized a breeze was picking up from behind me, so I moved farther away from the clearing and into a denser part on some leaves, out from between the wind and where I expected the critters to show. This spot was very nice and soft, and let me tuck myself into the leaves very well, but I soon found out that I was making way too much noise with even the slightest movements. I moved again, this time on a bare spot a few yards away. After realizing this spot was too low, I checked my watch, 8:20. At this time, I decided to stay put as it was getting darker and I knew the buggers would be out soon. Soon, I noticed the ground was very cold in this spot, and with the cold breeze on my back, I wasn't sure how long I could hold out here. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I can't lay prone and hold my head up off the ground for half an hour, especially with glasses, I can't just tilt my eyeballs up and look through my eyebrows, because there's no lense there to see through. So I lay my head down on the ground between my arms as I'm holding my rifle, slowly lifting it every minute or so to check for rabbit ears. Nothing. Man, between the cold soggy ground and the chilly breeze, I was freezing, and soon I started to shiver. I looked at my watch again, 8:30 (don't remember exactly), and I resolve to stay a bit longer. After a while, I decide I've had enough, and I lift myself slowly to make one last check.
About 50 yards away, I see this little spot that's a bit darker than the dry grass, and I shuffled a bit to turn my rifle that way and check it through my scope. As I lay there staring at it, it took me a while to notice that it was indeed moving. It was slowly, calmly eating grass; so slowly, in fact, that in the twilight I had trouble seeing it was a rabbit. Naturally, I started to shake as I repositioned myself into a comfy position to take my shot. To calm myself, I watched for a minute or two as it grazed away, then I flicked off the safety. With the crosshairs just behind his eyes and below his ears, I pulled the trigger. You know what they say about the loudest sound in a gunfight, right? Well, this click was deafening alright. I check to see if Buggs noticed, no, he's still eating, only looking up once in a while. I figured it was a dud; these Blazers are accurate in my gun, but I get a dud or two in a box of 500. So I work the slide back as quietly as I could, every sound makes me cringe, but as I near the end of the pull, the dud still hasn't fallen out. Great. I try to use my fingernail to extract the round, but I'm having way too much trouble. Finally, I drop the mag and use both index fingers successfully. After quietly sliding the mag back in and working the bolt agonizingly forward, I check the scope. No rabbit. You may be able to guess how I felt at this time.
I decided to check around to see if it went behind a tree or the tank a few feet to the right before giving up. To do that, I crawl forward and to the left a few feet, with my rifle in one hand and my homemade bipod in the other. I take a peek, and sure enough, dinner is behind the tank. After more crawling, and at one time forgetting my bipod a few feet behind me, I finally have a clear shot. Using my foot to drag the bipod within reach, I again thought I gave myself away. Not quite, but this time he was getting cautious and sitting upright to check things out for sure. With the bipod under my rifle, I steadied myself and tried to regain my calm before pulling the trigger. Click. "What the hell?" I ask myself. Once again I slide the bolt back and peak inside, sure enough, in my care to quietly put the mag back, I hadn't seated it properly and the bolt simply overran the top round. Pushing the mag firmly into place, I brought the bolt forward once again, this time feeling it strip the round off and into the chamber. Now, once again I check my quary, and it seems to be calm again, so I don't need to rush. Take a few deep breaths, count to ten. I'm shaking. Doubts start running through my mind; what if I only injur it? Then, I pull up my courage, tense every chilled muscle in my body and keep myself steady while lining up the crosshairs. This time, the rabbit flew backwards from the head shot and twitched for a few seconds. By the time I sprinted that distance (I later paced out 60 yards) I had shed various camo nets, casings, rounds, a bipod, and my breath to arrive at the most difficult shot, the "make sure it's dead" shot. I was now shaking tremendously, from being cold and holding back shivers for 15 minutes, from the adrenaline rush of the year, and from a record-breaking sprint after nearly an hour of almost perfect stillness. It was over, and what a rush.