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  1. #1

    I am wabbit hunter!.....

    The alarm was set for 6:00am and I slept very lightly in the anticipation of my morning hunt for a rabbit. I cant believe it, instead of sitting behind the computer telling everyone I am a bowhunter, I am actually going out hunting and will take photos and put them up on the site to prove it!

    Thoughts going through my mind all night of how I was going to stalk, reminding myself to keep the wind in my face, stay in the shadows if I can, go slow, glass the area and all the other things a bowhunter must learn if he is to come home with a kill.

    With all the questions being posed on the forum lately I started to doubt myself and my gear. Are my arrows heavy enough to get good penetration? Do I have enough poundage to send them at the speed necessary to make a clean ethical kill? Are my broadheads sharp enough? Oh crap I’m not even using broadheads!

    The alarm went off and I was up and at it like an 8 year old on Xmas day, I put my camo on, 3D asat was my choice for the day, I don’t know if the rabbits give a shyt if I wear camo but it makes me feel good inside that I am the stealth hunter who cant be seen. I packed all the gadgets I needed for my morning out and hopped in my car, one last mental reminder, range finder…check, release aid…check, knifes…check and I was ready to go. A strange thought came across my mind as I started the car, was I ready for this? Did I have everything?
    My bow….**** I forgot my bow!

    What a great start to the day, my nerves were already playing havoc with my mind and with a start like this my confidence took a mighty blow, calm down and take a deep breath I told myself as I drove 4 hours up the road to my secret hunting location, don’t tell anyone but it is in a small town west of Goulburn called Crookwell, 1500 acres, the property owners name is Jeff Barry and his phone number is 0414 812 597.

    Finally I was there, a beautiful morning indeed, I headed off into the paddocks and shortly into my walk I spotted my first rabbits. Slowly I crept into range, step by step watching where I was putting my feet, I was 30m away wanting to get into 8m because that was the range I was most comfortable shooting at when the excitement got too much for me and I failed to watch where my shoes were landing….SCHNAP under my foot and the rabbits were gone. My boots, I knew it, I had the wrong boots on! I should have been wearing those gay wetsuit shoes with the webbed toes for wet conditions, damn this was going to be harder than I thought.

    Onward I went to the next warren and there were 4 bunnies hovering over it, there was no cover beyond 40m so as I got to the last tree I ranged the closest rabbit and it said 37m….oh no this was way beyond my comfortable 8m preferred shooting distance and I questioned myself, if I take the shot and not make a clean kill will I be able to sleep at night? what if I loose my arrow? The nerves were killing me. I pulled myself together and took a couple of deep breaths, remember the shot sequence, draw, aim and shoot the bloody thing is what I tell myself when I practice down at the range shooting 3000 arrows a day at a dot on a paper target once a month. I drew and the arrow was on its way. It flew like it was in slow motion travelling at 395m/s. I missed….bloody hell, I missed! How could I have been so stupid to take a shot that was way beyond my capability, learn from mistakes and don’t do that again stupid!

    After having a cry at what I had just done I almost took my bow and arrow and went home, but the hunter instinct within me sent me forward. Through the trees and past the shed ruins I was on again. The same situation presented itself…no cover past 35m, I ranged the rabbit and that’s where it sat, 35m away and my nerves were destroying me, 8m just pretend its 8m, so I put the 35m pin on the rabbit and convinced myself it was the 8m pin. I was nervous, so nervous my knees were shaking, for a moment there I thought my knees were about to shake off! The shot was away and the arrow flew like Rolf Harrise's wobble board, all my good tuning was paying off. I watched the arrow fly in slow motion, which was amazing cause I had my eyes shut when I released it, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing in front of me


    and the bunny exploded. I got him….Ill be ****ed, I got him! The excitement was too much for me and I had to sit down and regroup before I went to track my kill. After half a metre blood trail I found him, there he was dead in front of me, mine after all the heart ache, nerves and doubt, my 384th rabbit.

    I now know deep inside I truly am wabbit hunter and I have the photos to prove it, just take a look.

    Hope you enjoyed the laugh


    I am wabbit hunter....poetic update

    Out again for a morning walk
    the plan of attack was spot and stalk,
    This story serious and not so funny
    the aim this hunt was shoot a bunny.

    The sun was up, what morning glory
    out in the bush to plot my story,
    The pace is slow I sneak through grass
    my eyes on lens I scope and glass.

    Into the distance I spot my catch
    a plan of attack I must now hatch,
    face the wind with trees as cover
    I see one bunny and then another.

    Eyes and ears on high alert
    I am not seen with camo shirt,
    Slow but sure the gap I close
    I stalk on heel and then on toes.

    Distance closing into twenty
    pressure mounts nerves aplenty,
    shaft on string release aid on
    one false move and they'll be gone.

    The bow I draw and come to anchor
    If i miss Ill be a wanker,
    I choose my pin and mark the spot
    the trigger touched there goes the shot.

    The arrow's flies its like slow motion
    the bunnies still and with no commotion,
    My arrow hits his chest up top
    The sound it makes a mighty POP.

    To my delight the shot spot on
    the other bunnies now are gone,
    I now aspire to shoot a grunter
    right now however I am wabbit hunter!


    I am wabbit hunter....The politically correct edition

    Some years had passed now since I have shot my bow, my passion for bowhunting had faded because of all the hype from those greenie tree hugging, politically correct, apartment block city dwelling, feral loving morons who think that milk comes from the corner store and for some unknown reason now days need a tampon in the bottom of a tray of meat to soak up the blood, I became disturbed with myself, I was finding it harder and harder to sleep at night so I admitted myself to the nut bag bin after becoming mentally disturbed for murdering a poor little wabbit.

    After months of therapy and physical abuse at the psych ward I was ready to face the world again with a new view on life, I had been converted, I had been convinced that I was wrong for going back to my evolutionary past, hunting for food which I needed to survive, the therapy had me believing that the design of my teeth and digestive system was set up for eating green crap and there was absolutely no need for me to kill animals to eat their tasty flesh any more.

    I had moved back to the city from my quiet little acreage with no neighbors and got myself a cosy little one bedroom flat that was situated on a busy street atop a cafe where I would meet my new vegetarian friends eating lentils and sipping late coffee, discussing how wonderful the world was now days, how good it is that parents are unable to smack their unruly children and because of the lack of simple discipline and respect now take knives to school and stab their class mates on the oval. My new vegetarian friends berate our countries new leader commenting on how disgusting it is that the navy is turning back the poor refugees that pay thousands of dollars to illegally enter our country and go onto welfare squandering my hard earned taxes, and how wonderful it is that hunting has been banned from the state forests allowing feral animals to breed unchecked and then poisoned them with baits to die a slow painful death. And of course supporting same sex marriage because that is just so natural.

    My life had become complete, I was living the dream, I had acquired myself a cushy public service job, working in an office where all men and women are equal, where there is no need to think anymore and because of this I was able to relieve myself of the burden of actually going about life using any common sense what so ever. In my new job the truth is the unspoken word in fear of offending someone from a minority group who will make a complaint about me, which in turn causes the rules to be rewritten in their favor and me needing months of counseling to convince me that I need to keep my opinions to myself.

    As I continued with my wonderful new life I started to become lethargic and sickly, my skin was turning a pasty white and I found it hard to go outdoors for my daily dose of vitamin D without turning red raw from sunburn. Something was wrong, something was missing, my immunity to a simple runny nose had become depleted and my pasty white skin was starting to flake, I went to the doctor who did all types of tests, probing me here and there with cold metal instruments, taking blood and referring me to specialists. The tests came back not in favor of my new lifestyle, I had been missing some key vitamins and minerals due to my new diet, of course I had not been taking 15 different pills each day to supplement my poor nutritional intake.

    What was I to do, my body was obviously craving the goodness of some tasty animal flesh but my brainwashed mind was saying no way. I was tearing myself apart, slowly I was turning, the need to become well again was heavily outweighing the mind thoughts those psychs had imbedded, the need to go back to the ways of the past had overtaken. My mouth was starting to salivate at the thought of a hardy well rounded meal of meat and I couldn't help myself, I got into my car and drove to the country from where I came, I collected my bow which was still hanging in my room with all the trophies I had acquired over the years of living the life of a hunter and harvester of all the parts of that which I shot.

    I saw my target, one of the pesky wabbits which was digging up my yard and breeding out of control. I put in a slow stalk and took the shot which hit the mark....POP....and I was rewarded with a tasty morsel for all my efforts. How could I have let my mind be twisted by these weirdos who believe hunting should be banned. Through tough times and adversity I saw the light, my true way of life had prevailed......again....I am wabbit hunter!


    I shot the easter bunny

    As the fat fella flew overhead towed by his.....oops sorry wrong fable.

    I waited up all night to get a sneaking glimpse of the rabbit that feeds the ever growing arses of the human population with foil coated chocolate. My mission was to rid the planet of this creature simply because I am repulsed every time I go and shop at Goulburn and have to follow one of these mammoth butts waddling up the footpath......Don't worry Ronald McDonald and the Doughnut king are on the list as well, back to the story.

    Just on day break I heard a noise in the lounge room and saw my target, the Easter bunny, he had completely ignored my request for a carton of beer instead of an Easter egg. I chased him through the house and out into the yard, he stumbled and chocolate eggs went everywhere, now was my chance, he was only 20m away and as he was collecting his stash I drew and the arrow was on its way, just as I shot he had finished his collection and he had turned to flee, however too late. The arrow landed on the back of his neck dropping him on the spot.

    I should be given a medal of the highest honor taking out this butt enlarging pest, lets hope he has not taught any of his offspring to deliver the evil for next year. I am wabbit hunter!


    The Easter Bunnies revenge

    It seems all my good efforts last year have been a waste of time. I am sure it is a combination of the Easter bunny and Ronald McDonald for the obesity epidemic which has plagued my local community of Goulburn. I had to do something for the greater good of mankind, I can hardly walk up the main street without having to divert my course onto the road which puts my life in danger to avoid both eye contact and body contact with the even larger arses than last year. I feel nauseous just looking at these hideous beasts and as I walk past the smell makes me vomit.

    The Easter bunny was having his revenge, he has recruited more deliverers than ever before. I knew it was up to me to stand up and do something about this problem. I had to go under cover, so I put on my best flano, urban camo, to blend into crowds and not blow my cover. Ahead there was a commotion, masses of fat chicks were flocking towards something, what was it I wondered. Not wanting to be squashed by the stampede I climbed onto the roof of a four wheel drive to get a look at the attraction, 'what the' an Easter bunny parade, bunnies large and small were dancing down the street, the dirty mongrels were handing out free Easter eggs as a lure to justify their existence, an ocean of drool was building up and starting to flow my way like a tsunami. I knew it was now or never, I hijacked a Mr Whippy ice cream truck and turned on the tunes, Greensleeves rang out over the crowd and immediately heads were turning, I had to escape as the crowd turned and bounded towards me. I slipped the truck into drive and sent it down the road which was followed by the mass of lard like blow flies to a rotting carcass.

    Now was my chance, I grabbed my bow and slid around the parked cars out of sight from the bunnies in the parade, there was my target, a younger recruit with a bag of eggs over his shoulder slowing him down from the rest of the group, silently I drew my bow and sent the arrow his way....POP....and there was one less pest to feed the arses of Goulburn.

    My mission had only just started, there were many more delivery recruits to be dealt with and I had a plan. I had returned home from latest mission and decided to wait it out on Sunday night, the night where the delivery action would be at its peak. I waited in ambush until early in the morning when the sun rose. I spotted them as they headed towards me with bags of chocolate over their shoulders, my target was a larger bunny leading the group, they came into range and I had the leader in my sights with the bow drawn. The arrow was on its way and I heard the sweet sound of bones crushing with a mighty POP and he was down.

    This created panic amongst his followers, they dropped their bags of poison and were running in all directions, some ran and some stopped. This gave me enough time to load up and draw, the second arrow was on its way, it slammed into the shoulder where I aimed POP dropping him on the spot.

    I gathered their bags of eggs started a fire and burnt the poison for the good of the local community, little do they know of the service I am doing them and for their health. One day they will thank me for my work and give me the title I deserve, but for now I am wabbit hunter


    Bush Romance

    As the sun was fading and the warren started to stir, I awoke with thoughts in my head of what the night before me would bring…a night of grazing on the sweet autumn grass…avoiding the predators which stalk these woods in search of one of my tasty rodent friends…and of course trying my luck at pulling a root with one of the sexy little fury does.

    I waited until my evening fat faded back to the fur line and made my way above ground for my evening piss. I was never the first out of the warren, the younger bucks were already out running about annoying the does and carrying on (you know…young bull, old bull story), I started my rounds through the colony to see what was on offer.

    Raylene, she was a bogan bunny. Not bad to look at, but with gutter mouth that would make a western suburbs pub cringe and a fag hanging out of her gob most of the time, I would leave her to the other boys, as well she was hanging out with this meat head body builder bunny who, in the past had busted up a couple of young fellas for just looking at her.

    Suzan, the sluutty bunny. Also, OK to look at, but knowing she would ride anyone, anywhere, any time, and probably had done a couple of them already tonight, I thought I would leave her to the young bucks and maybe use her as my backstop if I luck out with any better prospects.

    Chantelle, the lesbo bunny. Somewhat over weight with a queer half shaved head died purple one side and pink on the other, well she was certainly not on the menu. All she yapped on about was marrying her girlfriend. So let her marry, but FFS, don’t spend millions of our hard earned bunny taxes doing a survey, which could have been voted against in the bunny parliament. If the gays want to get married let them, so long as they don’t want to marry me!!!

    Shelly, the Goulburn bunny. She had obviously been on the good paddock for most of her life, sporting numerous rolls of blubber and an arse as wide as three normal sized rabbits, she certainly was not on the ‘want to do’ list, I would leave her for the younger bucks who were down at the local watering hole which seems to make the Goulburn bunnys worthy of some hugging.

    Natasha, the hot bunny. Now she was my target for the night. I know this was not going to be an easy task, but with my theory that ‘the hot bunnys want shagging too, after all they are only rabbits’ I made my approach. I took her to the local watering hole and bought her a couple of drinks to make me look better to her, and after some smooth talking I was in. It was getting on towards dawn now and we went for a romantic hop down to a quiet log. I had her on hands and paws ready to do the business, when…..there was a disturbance in the woods, the noise of a stick breaking broke my concentration and I put my head up to look for danger. I heard a twang sound and then a hissing noise getting louder and louder.


    I am wabbit hunter!


    The Easter Bunny is Back

    It has been a few years now since I have had to don the wabbit hunting gear. My quest to deflate the arses of the fat chicks by eradicating the Easter bunny was working so well.

    That was until I went shopping the other day. I walked into woollies and to my disgust it was flooded with Easter eggs and other forms of arse growing chocolate, followed up by a barrage of waddling fat arses attached to what I assume were human females.

    I looked around and started to gag at the sight, there were fat arsed chicks everywhere, some of them so huge it looked like they had stuffed bean bags into their pants for some type of joke against me, but no, this was real, these were actual arses on an epic proportion.

    I must have missed something. I thought I had done the community a service by killing the Easter bunny a couple of years ago. Makas and KFC must be doing a roaring trade or somehow one of the Easter bunnies had escaped me and gone about recruiting more evil chocolate deliverers and I was unaware.

    Holding back the vomit that was increasingly reaching my back teeth every time I saw one of these hideous beasts in front of me I decided to make a plan, my plan was to kill as many of the Easter bunnies as possible in a hope that I never have to witness such a sight again

    I started my attack on the Easter bunny in the woods, as I knew this is where they bred and trained them to deliver the evil eggs. It wasn’t long until I spotted my first couple of wabbits, it appeared that the larger ones were showing the smaller ones how to carry a sack over their shoulder, so this was my chance, I crept in close to make sure that my shot was not going to fail and at about 20m in front they were unaware of my presence. The pressure was on, as all I could think about was those hideous arses, so I drew my bow and very carefully put my 20m pin on the chest of the closest wabbit……POP……was the sound that followed, and I had my first one down.

    The rest of the trainees scattered, but it wasn’t long until I got a second chance, around the next corner I spotted another group in training, soon I was within a shooting distance and I crept ever so slowly closer so as not to alert them of my presence, 45m…40m…35m and that was it, with no more cover I had to shoot now before it was too late, I already had an arrow loaded so I drew without being noticed and the shot was on its way……POP…….and I had my second wabbit on the ground, no more arse enlarging for you my little friend.

    My luck had only just begun as I travelled onward towards the next training camp, there were a number of evil deliverers again training the younger wabbits, I had good cover and made it in close relatively quickly to 30m. I ranged the closest wabbit and without hesitation drew and shot my first arrow……POP…..was the sound that was made as the arrow hit sweet and the wabbit dropped on the spot. The others alert but not knowing where the danger came from scattered but not too far, 45m was the next one sitting looking away from me, I loaded another arrow and it was away without hesitation and a mighty POP was the last noise the rest of the bunnies heard before disappearing into the ground. Yes…a double of delivery trainers, the younger ones now have fewer and fewer to train them and my mission is slowly becoming a reality.

    I heard the noise of another bunch of trainees in the distance and crept in to see if there was an opportunity to delete them from the world so as they could not deliver the evil to the Goulburn fat chicks. I crept in and got to 25m and one of them was proper onto me, I already had an arrow loaded so all I needed was the trainee to relax a bit so I could draw undetected, he settled down so I drew and split the pins, the arrow was on its way and with an almighty POP he fell to his death where he stood.

    Although I haven’t exterminated the delivery recruits, I certainly have put a dent in their population, I must remind myself that what ever it takes I should remain persistent on my quest to eradicate these chocolate deliverers so I can walk the streets of Goulburn without being nauseous at the sight of the huge arse epidemic that they create every easter, so for now, don’t forget…….

    ’I am wabbit hunter’.

    Pop goes the wabbit

    All around the Blackberry Bush,
    Randal chased the wabbit.
    He shot an arrow up its arse
    POP! goes the wabbit.

    Last edited by randal; 21st May 2020 at 02:52 PM. Reason: update
  2. #2
    Excellent read mate... bunnies are harder then they look... any thing suspisious and they are gone... goot to see you nail one.. what did you do with the rabbit.. i swear i habe seen you shooting at boolaroo bowmans..
  3. baggs71's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2012
    South Australia (unfortunately)
    Mates where are you?
    All I see is a rabbity critter,boots and a bow?

    Great read!
    You probably need to shoot 4000 arrows a session "one day a month" hahahahaha

    You look happy!
    Ron Pittsley Predator Phoenix R/D Longbow 63#....."Custom Crafted"
  4. #4
    Another one of your quality articles on how to be a good hunter i think you are capable of confidently popping bunnies at 35 metres so just do it
  5. #5
    Glad you held your sh!t together and pulled off a once in a lifetime shot.
    well done Randal.

  6. #6
    aaaahhhhaaaahahahah rofl, that was a funny read, seriously you should send that type of stuff to one of the bowhunting mags for a regular column, very good read, well done!

    ps: you might have come home with two bunnies instead of one if your FOC was a little more % though
    APA Mamba M6, 73#/30

    Glass more and you'll find more!
  7. #7
    Randal rang that Number but it must be wrong cause it seems to be Satan's mobbie mate LOLgood thing is i got booked in to a nice suite with central heating .... great read buddy keep up the good work
  8. phantom bowhunter's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2011
    A long way south of Sanity
  9. #9
    Mate you're a cracker of a yarn spinner look forward to reading more of your stuff
  10. TonyKamphorst's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jul 2011
    New England, NSW
    Definately had a chuckle while reading that one, never thought bowhunting could get so complicated haha
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