- Joined
- Jun 23, 2017
- Messages
- 75
- Reaction score
- 8
I live in the country on some acreage; my driveway is two hundred yards long. Nobody within a half-mile from me, not many people within three miles, in fact.
My trash can is outside the gate to my driveway. I like to walk down in the evening about sundown with the trash.
My property is posted and fenced, so I get a lot of wildlife.
Anyway, Saturday dusk I'm carrying a couple bags of trash down to the gate, and near the gate is a pretty good-sized rabbit. Not a jack rabbit, but a big cottontail.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I get within five or six feet of it. Now keep in mind I am wearing flip-flops, carrying two sacks of trash, and am a fairly large man. I'm close enough to it I figure I could dive and catch it. Finally it turns and casually hops out of my driveway.
Sunday I'm carrying out more trash. Guess who is in the same spot, staring me down: yes, this same bastard rabbit.
It's eerie. Once again I get within six feet before it leisurely hops off.
Monday morning I'm rolling out in my Ford F150 quad cab.
The rabbit is waiting for me .
It doesn't move.
I have to hit my horn several times until it leisurely hops away.
Tuesday: same thing.
This morning: ditto. I'm standing in the open doorway of my truck seriously considering popping this fuzzy bastard in the head if it doesn't move toot-sweet.
Its got it in for me. The bastard has an attitude.
I haven't shot a rabbit since the 1960s. I quit hunting in the 70s. I shoot varmints and the occasional coyote, but nobody that should owe him money.
This is not going to end well.
My trash can is outside the gate to my driveway. I like to walk down in the evening about sundown with the trash.
My property is posted and fenced, so I get a lot of wildlife.
Anyway, Saturday dusk I'm carrying a couple bags of trash down to the gate, and near the gate is a pretty good-sized rabbit. Not a jack rabbit, but a big cottontail.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I keep walking.
It stares at me.
I get within five or six feet of it. Now keep in mind I am wearing flip-flops, carrying two sacks of trash, and am a fairly large man. I'm close enough to it I figure I could dive and catch it. Finally it turns and casually hops out of my driveway.
Sunday I'm carrying out more trash. Guess who is in the same spot, staring me down: yes, this same bastard rabbit.
It's eerie. Once again I get within six feet before it leisurely hops off.
Monday morning I'm rolling out in my Ford F150 quad cab.
The rabbit is waiting for me .
It doesn't move.
I have to hit my horn several times until it leisurely hops away.
Tuesday: same thing.
This morning: ditto. I'm standing in the open doorway of my truck seriously considering popping this fuzzy bastard in the head if it doesn't move toot-sweet.
Its got it in for me. The bastard has an attitude.
I haven't shot a rabbit since the 1960s. I quit hunting in the 70s. I shoot varmints and the occasional coyote, but nobody that should owe him money.
This is not going to end well.
