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Show First hunting experience was memorable occasion I By KEVIN CUMMINGS I The frost was thick on the sage. I The rim of the sun peeked cautious-I cautious-I ly over the horizon. And then I I spotted him. He was the most I magnificent animal I've ever seen. I I was the hunter and he was my I prey, but for that moment we were I equals. I raised my gun and he I scampered off into the underbrush, I leaving me with a memory of his I cotton-ball tail and huge back feet. I I'd just almost shot my first rabbit I Okay, so I'm not Jack London. I I'm not Ernest Hemingway. I'm not i r even Muriel Hemingway. I'm also not much of a hunter. In fact, I'd never been hunting until I was 25. Circumstances conspired to keep me from the sport as a child. Mostly the circumstances were that I was exceptionally clumsy and Dad didn't trust me with live ammunition. ammuni-tion. When the other boys were out in the wilds hunting with their fathers, I was at home torturing my parents with my electric guitar. When I moved out on my own, I resolved to hunt That was before I discovered that the money I had earmarked for a gun and license could more easily be spent on food and rent. Finally, when I was 25, my brother-in-law Bemie offered to take me rabbit hunting. Early on a Friday morning, we drove into the hinterlands of Utah. (Actually, we drove to Tooele, but that's still pretty far out!) Clutching a borrowed shotgun and tramping noisily through the sagebrush, I kept my eyes peeled for rabbits. After two hours of tramping, I decided that the rabbits had moved to more hospitable climes. Or perhaps they were hiding in the brush laughing at me as I walked i by. In my mind I looked like a Norman Rockwell print. In reality I looked like a Norman Bates reject It was time to head back to the truck for a sandwich and some hot coffee. By a miraculous stroke of luck, a rabbit bolted right between my legs at that moment A rabbit my mind shouted. I knew there was something I had to do when I saw a rabbit. What was it? Oh yeah! Shoot! I swung the shotgun from my shoulder and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The safety was on! Not yet ready to give up, I fumbled for the safety, raised the gun and fired again. The blast kicked up a lot of dirt and severed the trunk of a small sagebrush, but the rabbit had escaped. I guess he scurried away while I was groping for the safety. Of course, as long as it took, he may have just ambled off. But, I had seen a rabbit! Undeterred, I plunged recklessly aheadthe great hunter on the quest of a lifetime. Bernie was standing off to my right when a rabbit broke from the sagebrush to my left. The rabbit crossed in front of me and headed for Bemie. I swung the gun around and sighted along the barrel I got a momentary glimpse of Bemie as he dropped out of my line of fire. Boo ml Being the good sport that he is, Bemie forgave me. At least I think he did. He didn't say anything else about it Come to think of it, he hasn't said anything at all to me since that day. We stayed out the rest of the day. Bemie got three good-sized cottontails, cotton-tails, but I never saw another rabbit Still, I do have a trophy. In my living liv-ing room, hanging on the wall, is the buckshot-mauled trunk of a sagebrush. |