Memoir Of A Rabbit Hunter

It was winter 1990, somewhere in California, USA. Husam from Oman and I walked quietly and slowly down the railway track, keeping ourselves alert of any sudden movement. On both sides of the railway track are wheat field for as far as eyes can see. We were hunting for rabbits. I was looking for my dinner.

Cotton-tail rabbits has a habit of freezing for few seconds before dashing away. Those few seconds are the window of opportunity to raise your gun, point, aim, and pull the trigger. I used a small calibre .410 shotgun so that I won't destroy my meal to small pieces. That usually happen when you use a 12 gauge shotgun, with which you'll left with a rabbit head, feet, and small pieces of inedible meat.

At a glimpse of a movement, bismillah.... and I'll pull the trigger. BANG!! I dashed to my meal with a sharp hunting knife in my hand. I'll grab the throat of my meal with my left hand, and slit the throat open with my right. A quick death.

In any good day, I can get 4 to 8 wild cotton-tail rabbit. Sometimes, I'll bring home birds I shot with a BB gun too.

Back at home, I'll skinned the rabbits, cleaned their guts, and store them in the freezer. They make nice soup or curry or masak lemak or asam pedas... Yummy!

I always remembered the last rabbit I skinned. The last rabbit.... I chopped out it's four legs, carefully saperated its skin from the flesh starting from the hind legs. Slowly, all its soft fur got saperated, leaving its reddish flesh, except for its head. In one chop, all the fur and its head got saperated from its body.

Then I cut open it's abdomen, and took out everything... which usually still warm. In that last rabbit, that 'everything' includes a womb with shapes of tiny rabbits inside. 

I didn't eat that rabbit. I gave it away to some Malaysia sisters not far from my apartment.. That's the last rabbit I shot...

~ Ri Stranger