web analytics

I don’t think this bun will recover


Why, yes, that is the ass-end of an adorable baby bunny. This one was good ‘n’ dead before he presented us with it, so I had no moral dilemma about taking his kill away.

He ate it up, every bite. It took him all day. By dusk, there was nothing left but a little fluffy cotton tail. I haven’t had the heart to go see if it’s still in the grass.

I would never scold him for this — it’s his proper job, and besides we need the bun control. But, eesh. I am mighty squeamish about it.

I have never cleaned a rabbit or gutted a fish. I ate a fair bit of game growing up, but I never learned to like it and I certainly never prepared any myself.

I remember standing in my kitchen in my twenties, staring at an uncooked steak and thinking about going vegetarian. I didn’t, of course, but I wont deny it has an appeal.

The day they learn to grow delicious filet mignon in a laboratory tank…


Comment from David Gillies
Time: July 25, 2016, 10:54 pm

The first couple of times I gutted and skinned a rabbit it was a bit off-putting. Subsequently, no problem. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that. Gralloching a deer is something I’ve never attempted. That’s quite a lot of work.

That Jack is a handsome beast.

Comment from Bruce from Oregon
Time: July 25, 2016, 10:57 pm

Here’s the answer to your prayers!
Although may take awhile for a spoonful of meaty pleasure.


Comment from Deborah HH
Time: July 25, 2016, 11:26 pm

I married into a family of hunters. I told Husband that I would (try to) cook anything he brought into the kitchen, but that it had to be ready for the pan first. Right away I learned to check all the little quail breasts for missed shot, because nothing will ruin your meal like biting down on a ball of shot. And fish have to been gutted, scaled, and filleted before I take over, but I’ll bake or fry as appropriate. Wild turkey is a family tradition, and nothing will make you appreciate the fat juicy Butterball like a tough, scrawny wild turkey, but if it was good enough for the Pilgrims, it’s good enough for me. 🙂 (But we never had rabbit.)

Comment from Ric Fan
Time: July 25, 2016, 11:43 pm

He’s suppose to chase the bunnies out of the yard – not tear them to shreds. Yech.

Comment from Brother Cavil, Nie Mój Cyrk, Nie Moje Małpy
Time: July 26, 2016, 12:24 am

Predators gonna predate. Just be glad murder kitty knows what the “acceptable” targets are.

Comment from gromulin
Time: July 26, 2016, 1:04 am

Yeah. The cat: My job. The Bun: me. Back to reality. Well, vacation was good while it lasted.

Comment from Pupster
Time: July 26, 2016, 1:53 am

Dogs chase bunnies.

Cats catch them.

Mrs. Pupster had never seen a piglet until we visited my uncle’s farm, wouldn’t eat pork for a year. Luckily she doesn’t know that chickens and cows have personality or it would be all salads all the time around here.

Comment from Veeshir
Time: July 26, 2016, 2:53 am

Good kitty.

I always like it when animals do their job.

My sister’s cat was one of the ones that left the heads on the porch.
I always hoped it was paying rent and not warning us.

Comment from Nina
Time: July 26, 2016, 4:17 am

My dad was an avid hunter/fisherman, but I never really liked game, and I was never interested in doing any of the hunting or fishing myself. I’m also really squeamish when it comes to killing things…and I’m not interested in cleaning anything. I’ll get it already unrecognizable from the grocery, thanks.

Comment from Deborah HH
Time: July 26, 2016, 12:43 pm

Pupster—Husband had a working bird dog (half German Shorthair and half Brittany) who was also a stone-cold killer. He killed rabbits, skunks, rats/mice, and he hated porcupines intensely—which is why his photo was on the Wall of Fame in the Vet’s office. Three trips for quill removals. And he would “alert” us for snakes. He had a high-pitched almost hysterical bark he used for snakes. We’d hear it and Husband would go out and kill the snake with a .410 blast. I loved living on the farm, but you could never quite relax and take a walk because the dogs (the other dog was a Chihuahua) were bound to spook up something that needed killing.

I would have loved a good hunter like Jack, but the coyotes were hell on cats.

Comment from RimrockR
Time: July 26, 2016, 1:09 pm

I have a rhodesian ridgeback who I call mommy’s little rabbit assasin. She come from lure coursing championship lines so she is way fast. We muzzle her for her first thing in the morning run to give the rabbits better odds. But later in the day -well it’s open season. Ms Weasel’s picture today looked mighty familiar to me. You haven’t lived until you see your pet running around with two rabbit legs sticking out of its mouth like walrus tusks (gah!).

Write a comment

(as if I cared)

(yeah. I'm going to write)

(oooo! you have a website?)

Beware: more than one link in a comment is apt to earn you a trip to the spam filter, where you will remain -- cold, frightened and alone -- until I remember to clean the trap. But, hey, without Akismet, we'd be up to our asses in...well, ass porn, mostly.

<< carry me back to ol' virginny