When the paddocks crawled with rabbits

As I stepped from the 4×4 to open the gate to the property we were to hunt on, it was pretty obvious that the drought had a death grip on the land; it certainly looked devastated. As I peered around I smiled inwardly when I thought of the words old Alan had said to me some years back when I was discussing rain, or the serious lack of, with him. “You know,” he said, “all those years ago when it rained for 40 days and 40 nights we only got 10 points around here.”

I had met Alan through a mutual mate. As luck would have it we were up at my drover aunt’s place, further out west, hunting pigs when her friend Margie rang up. The conversation eventually focused on rabbits and the huge amounts she was encountering down her way. According to Margie they were as thick in numbers as she had ever seen. Being an old shearer’s cook she was always on the move from property to property, taking care of hungry workers.

When I mentioned I hadn’t seen rabbits in vast swathes for quite a while she said she would put us onto a couple of properties that were literally crawling with them. I uttered a “thank you” and said that it was good of her to arrange access as she didn’t know us from a bar of soap, to which she replied: “Your aunt speaks well of you and that’s enough for me.”

For lining us up with the properties, all Margie wanted in return was a few rabbits now and again. She loved to cook them and every so often we would drive the 40km to her house and drop off 10 or 15 pairs of bunnies. My daughter (of which I have three) tells me I am ‘old school’, whatever that means. I believe in a firm handshake and keeping my word, so if that is old school, I guess I am.

A couple of weeks later we were being introduced to Alan. Guessing he was in his mid-70s, it didn’t take much to realise he was doing it hard. His old home was practically falling down around him. He was only too happy to allow us to hunt rabbits as he didn’t like laying poison for them as he reckoned it affected goannas as well. Being the owner of several properties, he took us on a tour to show us where the heaviest concentrations were. Crippled with polio, Alan utilised the aid of a bit of boree shaped into a walking stick. Even then, with his nose almost level with his belly-button, he had great difficulty pottering around. He used to ride his quad bike side-saddle.

At one of the properties he wouldn’t go past the front gate as his old family home was situated further back through the pine trees and, with all his relatives gone, it was just too sad for him. Often over the following years we would take a few groceries for him and we never missed handing out hot fish and chips, along with a packet of chocolate biscuits each time we went there, which he enjoyed.

Rabbits and foxes were everywhere and we always made sure we carried 1000 rounds of .22 and .17HMR ammunition. We would camp in an old shack at the back of one of the properties and operate from there. On this property our best one-night tally was around 600 rabbits and a few foxes.

A phone call from Margie gave us the good news that she had permission for us to hunt on another property further down the road. Apparently, it was alive with rabbits. Soon after we were standing in front of the old abandoned house, speaking to the owners. We were invited to shoot rabbits and foxes and were free to use the old house, which would save us camping. They asked us for our names and addresses which was fair enough, and seemed relieved when I mentioned that we were SSAA members and fully insured.

I would not be lying or exaggerating when I say we shot literally thousands of rabbits on this and their other property; there seemed to be no end to the critters. On one night/morning effort we went through three bricks of .22 rimfire and .17HMR ammunition. It was purely pest destruction, although we made use of as many rabbits as we could.

The owners of this property obtained permission for us to hunt on another area down the road and it too was covered in rabbits. One night after leaving the old house, we were moving along the fence line, shooting rabbits as fast as we could, when we noticed a vehicle approaching from the neighbouring property. We stopped shooting, unloaded our rifles and walked over to the fence and the waiting cocky. “Are you blokes shooting rabbits?” he asked, to which I replied, yes. “You can shoot them over here too if you want to,” came the reply. We introduced ourselves and said we would like to hunt on his property.

We drove up to the house and spent some time chatting with the owner’s son, who we came to know well. There was no-one on the property at present and he was about to leave, but as usual we had the run of the area, so we headed to a stand of pines in the sand country. It was late July, which isn’t the best time to be hunting in this region. However, as the months slip by the rabbits start increasing until they peak around December and January when the myxo begins to make an appearance.

We weren’t after a big tally on this trip, more to do with checking out the warrens to see what future prospects there were. The good thing about hunting bunnies in mid-winter is apart from them being fewer on the ground, you only need a nice bright afternoon and rabbits were bound to be sitting in burrow entrances, soaking up the sun.

After establishing a campsite, we headed out for a tour of the property’s rabbit warrens. It was pleasing to us, but probably not quite so much to the owner, that 90 per cent of the warrens were open with fresh scratchings all over the place. In other words, it wouldn’t be long before the young rabbits started appearing. We were expecting most shots would be around the 100m mark, so I had brought my Savage heavy-barrelled .17HMR. With the stiff breeze that is often endured on the plains of New South Wales, head shots were going to be rather difficult to achieve but seeing that the rabbits on this trip were destined for the dog, reliable chest shots would probably suffice.

Luckily the afternoon, although windy, was bathed in full sunlight and quite a few rabbits were sunning themselves in their burrow entrances. With the variable scope on my .17HMR set on 6x, I also had the added advantage of a cushioned rest to steady my shots. So, very few rabbits were missed, even in the strong wind. We ventured into a different patch of the paddock, which was covered in fresh burrows and were soon among the rabbits. We had never hunted in this area before, therefore the rabbits were a bit quieter. This allowed us to take several before the remainder ducked back into the safety of their burrows.

Having satisfied ourselves that all was looking rosy for future trips, we headed back to camp for lunch. With our base set up among a series of rabbit warrens, we kept our noise level down to a minimum and it wasn’t long before the odd bunny started emerging from nearby burrows. With lunch out of the way I went for a wander over to one of the old deserted buildings, always a good place to find rabbits and so it proved. One building surrounded by warrens had rabbits moving about. With a handy rest on a nearby fence post I fixed the cross-hairs on a nervous rabbit that had been hopping towards its burrow. The resulting shot took it cleanly and after quickly reloading, I picked up another one as well. It wasn’t long before I had all the rabbits I could carry.

An interesting run with the spotlight resulted in more rabbits and one well-conditioned feral cat. This was unlike any domestic cat, as it was the result of generational breeding in the bush. One thing was for sure – the native wildlife was better off with it gone.

The rabbits were in breeding mode and I have no doubt their ranks will be high again the following year. When I arrived home, I sent a text to the owner thanking him for his hospitality, and a return message said we were welcome to hunt on the property anytime.