The rabbit, or as it is properly called in Maine, the snowshoe hare, is a unique animal. Not only is it renowned for its prolific nature, but it has evolved to exhibit a truly remarkable defense mechanism; the ability to change color to blend in with its winter surroundings.
That mottled brown object you saw dart from underneath a spruce tree during an October bird hunt has now turned almost completely white, with the exception of the ear tips or the coal-black eyes.
January is a great month to hunt rabbits, or hare, as a fresh dusting of snow shows the animal’s tracks, and the brisk air pushes the hunter onward, tracking the trail through the woodlands. This year, the rabbit/hare season (which includes the common cottontail, which is occasionally spotted in Maine) runs from Oct. 1 through March 31.
For me, rabbit hunting started at an early age, and these quick-running critters were considered a bonus when out after birds. If a rabbit or hare crossed my path while hunting grouse or pheasant, I would take a quick shot at it to try and “bring home the meat for the pot.” I can recall days where I saw more rabbits than grouse. Unfortunately, I rarely took my limit as these spirited bunnies were always one leap ahead of my shot string.
These October hares were a combination of browns and grays, not yet turning white for the winter. Once the calendar turned to January, you could find me ice fishing, so the white hares were left to other hunters. Oh, what I was missing. The time-honored tradition of hunting hares with beagles is one of winter’s most exciting sports.
My first hare hunt with dogs was quite an event. Four of us met up with Everett “Lenny” Leonard of Turner. Lenny had two beagles at the time and enjoyed turning them loose while the hunters got in position. We met at an agreed upon spot in Turner, and Lenny set the dogs loose. In almost no time at all, Penny and Buttons were baying and crying out their melodious chorus, indicating a hare was on the run.
We each stationed ourselves at a random point where we thought the hare would run past.
As soon as I heard the dogs get close, I became nervous and began to fidget. Was my gun loaded? Could I get a clear shot? All sorts of thought raced through my head. When the barking was so close and I thought I could hear the hare breathing, they would change direction. I had trouble deciding what to do. Several times I raced down one trail only to discover they had changed direction again. Perplexed, I vowed to stay put. But I could not contain myself for long, so I charged down the trail again, repeating my performance several times.
The first hare I took that day was what most refer to as a spare, that is, a hare that you came across on your own without the aid of the dog. I never saw him sitting there, but as I bent down to move a stick out of my way, he took off. I peered around the tall spruce that he went behind and caught him on the run. No sooner did I get that snowshoe in hand when the dogs came around the bend. They pushed another one right at me which I also shot. Not bad for a beginner.
All those days spent bird hunting and trap shooting paid off on these speed demons of the winter woods.
The firearm I carried that day was a very special one that causes me to think of rabbit hunts whenever I pass the gun cabinet. It was a LeFever .410 that was given to me by my grandfather when I was “old enough to handle a gun.” While it certainly isn’t new or very attractive, it holds a special spot in my heart. Pa had obtained the gun during the Great Depression by trading a man three rabbits he had shot in exchange for the small scattergun. My grandfather lived on a farm where game was abundant but the man apparently needed food for his family.
I often wondered why the man didn’t shoot his own food with that trusty .410, but my grandfather didn’t seem to know either. It has certainly taken more than its share of grouse, woodcock and hare. It seemed fitting that I used it to hunts rabbits, like my grandfather did, and I still use it.
Most hunters like a bit more shot, and a 20-, 16-, or 12-gauge shotgun is good medicine for snowshoe hare. Some hunters opt to use a .22 rifle, which is truly the mark of a talented shooter. You almost have to wait and shoot when the hare has stopped running, as they often do to see if the dogs are still on their trail. Other hunters stalk-hunt hares like deer and move quietly through the woods, examining every little bit of black they see against the white snow. Some hunters even use a .22 pistol or revolver, another test of shooting skill.
No matter how you choose to hunt the snowshoe hare, you will most likely have a great time at it. You can’t beat Maine in the wintertime, and snowshoe hare hunting is one more excuse to get outside during the winter months. Whether you choose to follow a pack of beagles or hunt them one-on-one, now is the best time to head out after your quarry. Not only will you have a chance to fill your game bag, you have the ability to evoke memories of hunts past, or begin a new chapter in the long story of outdoor adventure.
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