Rabbito

"Go on, Sis, ask him." My little brother pestered me. "Go on, just ask; it will be Ok." A request I couldn't ignore and being bored I thought it a good idea as well.

We had gone shooting before by ourselves, so I didn't envisage any problems with Dad letting us use the slug guns. "Just keep the slug gun unloaded until you need to fire it" he said. "And never go through the fence with the gun loaded or point it at anyone." These instructions stuck like glue, and we obeyed them religiously.

My dad Barney had been a widower for several years, and along with me and my brother Jim, lived out on the farm with my grandparents. My mother died at twenty- nine years of age, of complications related to surgery, leaving Dad with two young children. I was nearly four years old when my mother died, and I don't think my father ever forgave the doctors and blamed them for her death. My brother Jim was only two at this time, and following her death we all lived on our grandparent's dairy farm until Dad remarried several years later when I was seven years old. Dad built a house in our local town and once he remarried, Dad, Jim, and me lived there with my new stepmother Lois, whom we adore. I have since gained two sisters.

Dad was a dairy farmer who continued to work on the family farm with his father. My grandfather Bill and Dad milked their cows together morning and night, day in day out, sending the milk to the local dairy for pasteurization.

I now was twelve years old, and with my ten-year-old brother, we still visited the farm regularly, and had spent much of our childhood going back and forth from our town house to our beloved farm, where we roamed the paddocks and bushlands with our faithful collie dog, Bob.

"Go on, ask." Jim said again. So, without another word I approached my father. "Dad can Jim and I go shooting? I promise we'll be careful and do as you have asked. There's still plenty of day and perhaps we can bring back a rabbit or two." My father gave me a stern look, then said, "OK, but just remember to be careful and take no risks, I'll expect you home before lunch." Excited we followed him to the cowshed where he took down the two slug guns and gave us each a handful of slugs. "Now remember " he began, but before he could finish his sentence I replied "Yes, Dad. We will be careful."

So, without another word, Jim and I set off up and over the big hill in search of rabbits. We would often go over the hill; down we would run dodging blackberry bushes and big stones along our path. This was a familiar place where we spent a lot of time occupied by other activities, like mushrooming when this season came around, or picking blackberries from the many bushes growing amongst the bush land.

However today was rabbiting and as Dad had warned we carried our unloaded guns carefully. "Shhh" I said to Jim, Look down near that bush." There he was a rabbit sitting in the open just a little way away from the burrow. We stopped quietly and without making any noise I loaded my gun with a slug.
Holding my breath and with the skill of an expert, I held the rabbit within my sights, and squeezed the trigger. Bang! The shot fired and I saw the rabbit fly into the air. A smugness of certainty overcame me and wide eyed my brother announced, "Chrissy, you got him." Although the excitement mounted, we made sure we unloaded guns before running down to take our prize.

The rabbit was still moving, but I could see from the head wound that he had no chance, so with empathy and compassion I quickly picked it up and swiftly wrung its neck. This technique I had learnt from my father, as I had been on several rabbiting excursions with him and he would always put a wounded rabbit out of its misery, so I had no hesitation in doing this task. I had also witnessed my father gutting and skinning a dead rabbit before bringing it home.

This involved making a tear in the soft abdomen with just your finger and then opening up the belly to pull out the innards, leaving the kidneys in situ. I felt like a seasoned rabbito and impressed Jim no end. Next step was to push one of the rabbit's back legs up and through the opening and with a firm grasp on the rabbit's fur I peeled the skin back until I had completely bared the flesh and lastly with my pocketknife I removed the head.

Nana will be impressed, I thought, perhaps if we get another one, we could have rabbit stew for tea. It wasn't long before another unsuspecting rabbit came into view. This time I let Jim have a shot, but he missed, much to his disappointment. We looked for more, but I think the noise scared the others away and with all the previous excitement I estimated the time to be close to our dinner time and, heeding our father's curfew, we headed back with our one rabbit.

Pleased as punch, I presented this to my grandmother, and without much fanfare my father acknowledged my accomplishment with "Good job, Chrissy."

This day was a Sunday and being fourth Sunday of the month, which meant our cousins, aunts and uncles would come out for the afternoon. Jim and I always liked these days, as we got on well with our cousins and liked our aunts and uncles, especially Dad's brother, our uncle John. He would always be funny and at times more of a kid himself.

Everyone had arrived by half past two and the day being a nice one, it was decided that we could all go for a walk in the bush and down to the creek. We had been before with our father, so excitedly, we all set off with us kids running ahead of the adults but keeping enough distance between us so that they could call out and we would answer.

We had to go through a couple of paddocks where dad's cows were, but we kept our distance, and didn't get too close to them. However, as we were country kids anyway, cows didn't frighten us. We didn't go through the bull paddock though, as they could charge you, so we skirted around that paddock to get to the bush track.

Laughter and happy chatter by us kept us all busy. We ventured into the bush and waited for the adults to catch up. Everyone was there except Uncle John, and when we asked where he was, the others made some excuse as to where he had gone to. We didn't think any more about his whereabouts and knew he would join us shortly.

We found the creek and had a bit of a paddle, not getting too wet, when one of my cousins asked his mother if we could go and find the old cave.

We knew about this cave, as my father had taken my brother and me us to see it. It had quite a big opening and one could walk quite a distance into it. I was always glad to have Dad beside me, though, and one needed a torch to be able to see the way.

Being a fairly big group, my cousins, my brother and I went running excitedly along the path towards the cave. We located it and, not waiting for the adults, decided to go into it by ourselves. Although none of us would admit it, we were all a little nervous; however, stepped into the shadowy cave entrance.

Not being able to see much ahead, we crept in a little way. Next thing we heard an almighty roar and, in the light, saw a scary monster coming after us. Terrified, we all screamed, turned around and ran for our lives. The monster followed us growling all the time.

Once we got outside, the adults were standing around, in fits of laughter. Uncle John came running out of the cave, torch in hand, and laughing his head off.

I have never forgotten that day and still have very fond memories of rabbiting in the morning and my cave monster Uncle John in the afternoon.



Christine 9/11/2021