“Shhhhhhh!
I’m hunting wabbits!”- Elmer Fudd
For the past six years
I have been looking for a rabbit hunting spot to parallel the one my buddy
Kirby and I used to hunt on the north coast. When my girl and I moved inland to
pursue our Ph.D.’s I couldn’t help but notice the local abundance of cottontails
(Sylvilagus audubonii), brush rabbits
(Sylvilagus bachmani), and the most
underrated rabbit (actually a hare, not a rabbit at all), the black tailed jackrabbit
(Lepus californicus). Yet, as is the
case in most regions, the majority of land in the surrounding area is privately
owned. As much as some agricultural operations might love an enthusiastic
hunter to come and thin the populations of these hungry little herbivores as
they contently stuff themselves on local crops, it takes time and a lot of
schmoozing to find a willing farmer and establish the necessary trust…this year
I intend to schmooze a whole lot, but in the meantime I have still found a new
spot! After a year of research I can contently say I have a first rate area to
hunt rabbits! Located on public land with sufficient low scrub and chaparral in
the flats for rabbits to take refuge…put simply, the place is very “hoppy!”
When I first arrived at
the spot, it was still a few minutes before legal hunting light (in California
we are only permitted to take game from one half hour before sunrise to one
half hour after sunset). I waited patiently and when the hour came I loaded my
12 gauge Remington 870 with lead free shot and headed out into the field as
quite as possible. I first saw a cottontail, but he gave me the slip and ended
up taking refuge in an underground burrow. Next I saw two Jacks…they also hi-tailed
it on out of there before I could line up for a shot. Finally I stalked in on
another cottontail, raised my scatter gun, flipped the safety, squeezed the
trigger and…NOTHING! Try as I might, this normally trusty shotgun was jammed. I
ejected the shells, and messed with it a bit, but was forced to return home to
address the issue further. Empty handed I entered the door of our home with a sheepish
grin and explained to my girl that I had yet again “lived up to my reputation
as the worst rabbit hunter who ever lived!”
The next trip was
successful, and I was happy to have some wild game. The sunrise over the oaks,
coyote brush, and elderberry was spectacular. I had a jackrabbit in the first
few minutes and spent the rest of the morning silently stalking through the
brush learning the lay of the land. The rabbit was cleaned and butchered in no
time flat and I decided that it would be fun to try to make sausage from the
meat.
I processed the meat with
a grinder my girl bought me for my birthday last year and I added bacon fat (as
rabbit meat is quite lean) and foraged herbs including rosemary and sage. The mixture was then
set aside to be later formed into patties and fried.
The next day my best
buddy, and fellow forager, Alex showed up for a little hook and line action. We
headed out to my go-to spot and had a great time fishing and losing lures for a
few hours (when you find all of your fishing gear at the bottom of lakes and
rivers, you don’t really mind losing it again—see our post “Fried Halibut, Loquat Salsa, and a Whole
Lot of Freediving Fun”). Eventually we both landed nice bass and we were
all smiles.
On our way back out we
noticed a farmer’s field that had been harvested about a week earlier. There,
on the periphery of the plot, we found a single tomato plant that had been
missed by the picker. It was clear that no one was returning for this gem and
the fruit was doomed to rot. It just so happened that we had been planning to
make a marinara sauce for dinner that night, so we needed some tomatoes for the
recipe. We approached and found that though the upper exposed fruit were
clearly overripe and on the verge of rotting, the fruit that lay shaded by the
remaining leaves were sound and ready to harvest. We quickly assembled just
over a dozen tomatoes and headed home for some good country cooking.
Alex worked on the
polenta while I fried the rabbit sausage and reduced the tomatoes with herbs
from our garden and forays around town.
Through collaboration,
tons of laughter, and only the freshest ingredients, we had an artistic and
gourmet tribute to generations of Italian Countrymen and
Country-ladies…manifest in an amazing rabbit marinara over polenta!
We all loved it, but
when I piped up “It’s not bad!” and my girl replied “Not bad? It’s damn
good!” Then, and only then, was I was completely satisfied!
There’s food out there
if you know where to find it, and with a little fun with family and friends and
some experimentation in the kitchen, the wilds of California are not just edible…they're incredible!
Keep the old ways
alive!
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