Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1907-12-18
RABBIT HUNTING.

When the little fellow Is years ole
or less asked the hardware man 'tht
price of IL guage shells the a after
the snow and after judgmatical con
s%ideration bought and paid for a box
Of twenty five, departing with the ligh'
of expectant joys on his face, h incl
dent stirred memory of boys n rab-
bits and shotguns back in early years
of the last quarter of the Nineteenth
century. How could an old fellow
foresee the lad afeld with his treas
ured "shells," peering carefully down
corn rows and into brushy places with
out remembering, for the rabbit is the
natural prey of boy hunter.
We Of the frosty temples have no
forgotten our first rabbit hunt. We
trotted along with father. He carried
the old muzzle loading gun and on
either side hung the copper powder
flask with it's green cord, and
the leather double shot pouch
with their spring charges that
automatically rendered the proper
measurements for loading. You were
| strung to a tingling, shivering pitch OF
expectancy and when that brown
bunch of fur burst out of its form
and skurried down a corn row to pitch
sprawling and ~lifeless at the crack of
the gun, it was a moment Of triumph
that Napoleon might have envied.
How deity he reloaded. How the air
Kissed thru the tubes as the wooden
ramrod pressed wads swiftly down
upon the powder charge. How crisply
the locks licked as the hammers came
back to permit the placing of the per-
cussion cap. 1t was the knowledge of
the gods, the noble art of killing, the
satisfaction of an atavistic instinct
from primeval ancestry and you longed
for years and freedom and a gun of
your own. When the hunt was done
and your femme shoot once, pa,
only once pa" was needed and you
found shot in the fence post whereat
you had taken a wide and uncertain
aim, the time of your emancipation
seemed not far off.
When you grew older and advanced
to a single barrel of majestic length, a
bottle of black powder and a pound of
shot in another bottle, life was worth
while. How you whistled furiously
when bunny started and slew him with
hurried elaboration and without re-
morse when his fatal curiosity induced
him to stop for one disastrous moment
to listen.
He was a tired boy who tramped
miles to capture a half dozen rabbits,
but he came home as the warrior
with his spoil and skinned
them in the woodshed by lamplight,
boyishly and triumphantly, cruelty
self-satisfied as he noted the cory path
where the missiles had torn their way
thru to the life. Gee, but the old gun
shoots Close" he said, and looked ad-
miringly at the bored out old Enfield
rifle that may upon some field of the
civil war have shed blood more
precious, and sent m%angling bullets back
and forth between men Of n nation
~ ~l I1no1 Of Cnftuch11Tor ns
Antietam.
A box Of shells, a shotgun and a boy
on each side of a hedge and rabbits
fairly plenty, is the formula Of great
sport. Perhaps it is cruel but the boys
who hunt are rarely more cruel than
those who dc not 1t is a natural instinct,
inheritance that m with the
deep lungs and iron muscles handed
down from the pioneers and came to
from generations Of men ready
to pursue and defend successfully. The
races are all hunting races.
1t is better for the boy to be afeld
for rabbits than hidden with a cigaret
in some more questionable pursuit. If
he wants to hunt rabbits let him.. 1t is
hard on the rabbits, admittedly hard,
but the, predatory instincts are likely
to demand some satisfaction n rab-
bit hunting is an extremely noble pur-
suit compared with penny ante or
A poI;f;eaI Triunnvirate