I had never hunted in snow before. I’d only seen it twice — once in the Snowy Mountains when I was a kid and once in Europe, back in 2006. Both times it was different because there was more of it and I was expecting it.
This time, Andy and I were hunting on a friend of a friend’s property not far south of the ACT and were prepared for the winter cold but not snow. We were sleeping in the woolshed and planned to wake up early so we could head out just on first light to stalk rabbits.
Every published entry in the Hunter’s Diary short story competition receives a Vanguard Scout B62 bipod, and goes in the draw to win other Vanguard gear. All you have to do it submit a story and photo just like this one. It’s all thanks to Hunting Depot! Click here to find out how.
As we stepped out into the dim, grey morning, snow flakes began to fall around us. It was eerily quiet and, apart from the falling snow, dead still. It was cold but not freezing, and Andy reminded me that if it gets too cold it won’t snow.
We walked to a spot overlooking a warren about 400m from the woolshed, trying to be as quiet as possible but conscious that in the quietness our footsteps sounded like drum beats, no matter how we tried to silence them. We were able to sneak up using some trees as cover and could see four rabbits moving around in the light covering of snow on the ground.
Counting three, two, one, we fired our .22s in unison and got two of them, and Andy managed to get another but the fourth never stopped running before disappearing into its burrow.
“Good way to start the day,” I said to Andy, who nodded and smiled.
We gutted the rabbits and hung them to retrieve on the way back, then set off to the next likely place, only a few minutes away. The light had come up now so we could see the landscape clearly, everything dusted in white. The snow had stopped but it was so magical I was hoping it’d get going again and leave a few centimetres on the ground.
There wasn’t much happening at the other warren. It looked like the rabbits had already gone underground so we settled in to wait a while before trying to whistle up a fox. But 10 minutes later the clouds got darker and it started to rain — a cold, heavy rain that we had no desire to sit in so we fled to the shelter of the woolshed.
It didn’t let up for hours. By midday we were over it so packed up and headed home. But I still remember the magic of the morning.
— Aiden Peake
0 Comments