New Hampshire Trappers Association

Trapping Easter Bunnies

                                         By

                                                Mel Liston

                                                             April 2004

     This true tale starts four years ago, and involves two young friends who I will call Buster and Sprout to protect their anonymity. Buster being the older brother was about thirteen. The younger brother Sprout, measured up to three. Buster knew of some folks who had some domestic rabbits running loose on their property and wanted to get rid of them. Excuse me, I mean they wanted to find them a good home. Buster, who just adores little brother Sprout, decided that he would catch the two liberated bunnies and bring them home as an Easter present for his little brother. Buster laid his plan out before the authorities, which would be Mom and Dad. Through whatever means this family utilized to resolve an issue entailing this much substance, a plan was hatched. It sugared down as follows; the bunnies would be turned loose on their four hundred acre rural homestead. Picture a landscape painted with ageing agricultural buildings and scattered with an abundance of tractors along with every conceivable type of farm implement imaginable. Now add to this panorama an inventory of spare parts consisting of every mechanical device which has ever been driven, dragged, or hauled onto the property in four generations of active farming and you will begin to appreciate the potential of this man made habitat for free roaming bunnies. The fancy rodents would have no difficulty finding shelter from the elements, or an avenue of escape when predators prowl. Throughout the mild seasons the bunnies would have an abundance of stuff to eat and in winter they can hang out with the cows eating spilt grain or hay while getting all the heat any bunny would ever want by borrowing into the steaming manure pile. Such a plan certainly must have involved Devine intervention. 

     The good folks told their older son, Buster, to head on up the road and check with the trapper about how to capture the bunnies. I was out working in the barn when I heard Buster heading my way on his three wheel ATV via the woods trail the kids in this area use to get around from farm to farm. Always happy to see Buster, I put aside my chore for a bit, and awaited the opportunity to be in his world for just a little while. Long before he could bring himself to the purpose of this visit, I knew the part I would be asked to play. I however, continued to enjoy his sense of adventure as Buster unraveled his scheme and then included me in the worthy deed. My part appeared to be small but critical. “Can you lend me some live cage traps and show me how to use them, says Buster. I need to catch some rabbits running loose on somebody’s farm, and I am gonna give um ta Sprout for Easter.” From the back of the barn we drug two of the correct sized cage traps forward into the light, were upon I gave Buster instructions on their proper use. There was a short interlude during which Buster gave me an update on his 4H project, a new yoke of oxen. Shortly the busy kid was on his way back through the woods on his ATV with two cage traps strapped on back. Three days later Buster returned the traps and informed me that Sprout really liked his new bunnies.

    As fate would have it, one of these bunnies was a doe and the other was a buck. Now rabbits are generally not thought to be too high on the intelligence scale, but nobody should doubt their skill in math. Rabbits definitely can multiply. Much to the absolute joy of little Sprout, there were baby bunnies hopping everywhere by fall. The local population of coyote and fox had taken sharp notice of what must have seemed like the new buffet restaurant when it first opened up in town. I doubt they had much success in that agrarian obstacle course habitat. Sprout’s perception of this dire situation brought a request to the trapper to help out once again, and many of the wild canines in that genetic pool finished their days hanging in my fur shed.

    The seasons turned as they always do and before long it was spring again. Now comes a ringing on my phone, It’ Buster’s and Sprout’s mom. “I need you to help me out with them               (deleted and nasty adjectives) rabbits.” “What’s the matter says I.” “Well says the mom, they destroyed my vegetable garden last summer and today while working outside, I noticed that they have chewed the bark off all my ornamental bushes around the house.” I suggested the obvious, “Shoot em and eat um.”  “No says the mom we can’t do that, little Sprout has given them all names. Can you come down and live trap them and take them somewhere else?” “I don’t know where I would take them,” says I. “Well I guess I could turn them loose on my farm and give them away as pets through the summer then if no home materializes by fall, Buster and I could harvest them for the table. I will load the truck up with traps and be right down.” “Oh no!” Says the mom. “You need to catch the rabbits when Sprout is in Preschool 9am-12pm Monday- Friday.” And so it was, with all going well for the first seventeen bunnies in a population of eighteen. That last bunny was just a little sharper than the balance of its community, however my pride as a trapper made me persist until finally I had it. Problem was that when I showed up to check the trap, Sprout was there waiting. An extra day off from preschool and mom forgot to tell the trapper. Sprout had noticed that the bunny population was declining and his family had blamed the coyotes, which cooperated each night by coming to the edge of their back pasture and howling. With this little bit of knowledge I was able to bale out of this awkward scenario with a fluent series of white lies about the appropriateness of cage traps for catching coyote and just how much coyotes love to eat carrots. With Sprout looking on, I now released the solid black bunny he called Ted. Once again I was in comfortable territory, the coyote trapper here to get the bad guys. In a few short days Ted who turned out to be a doe was reunited with her clan on my farm, and another chapter in this tale begins.

   The summer and fall seasons ensued. Ted became Angel as likewise all the bunnies became individuals with names and personalities. By winter the original eighteen and thirty more moved into the barn for a five-month stay. This past season saw the population explode again to numbers, which I will not describe, and a fall harvest for the table, which brought it back under control. With the bucks now separated from the does we will breed only to maintain a small free roaming herd for our viewing pleasure. Should you take a ride on a dirt road somewhere in the country and come upon a sign tacked to a big old maple that says GO SLOW BUNNY CROSSING then you are probably in my front yard.

Picture (Bunny Crossing Sign on road to Mel’s Farm)