Day Twenty-Six: Hunting Rabbits

When sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches surrounding the small cabin and poured inside, I finally woke up.

The feeling of being utterly drained—that was exactly it. My headache had improved, and my vision was clearer, but all my strength had vanished without a trace.

I struggled to sit up.

"Eh?" Little Black was gone!

"Little Black!" I called out loudly, moving toward the door as I shouted.

Before I could step outside, Little Black poked its head in at the doorway, peering around curiously.

To my surprise, it could walk now. Its injured hind leg was held up as it moved, but it walked steadily. It must have grown bored of lying down, and perhaps because the wound was beginning to heal, today it started wandering about as well.

Yet I could sense Little Black was still very weak, noticeably thinner than before.

I needed to find something to nourish it; mere fruit would not suffice. So today, I had to venture out and prepare some meat for Little Black.

The first thing that came to mind was rabbit, though I had no confidence—I'd simply have to try.

Little Black didn't follow me. It wanted to, but fearing it would strain its wound, I sent it back.

I walked slowly—not just because I was weak, but because I was pondering how to catch a rabbit…

Honestly, I wasn't sure I could do it.

I went to the riverbank and drank my fill, then gathered some vines and a few flexible branches from the woods.

Then I headed toward Rabbit Valley. It was a bit of a distance; by the time I reached the mouth of the valley, I was out of breath, having rested several times along the way.

The vigilant rabbits in the valley had already spotted me. In a flurry of panic, they all darted into their burrows.

Though I was far away, I could see everything clearly.

I tried to replicate the slipknot traps I'd seen on television. I looped a vine into a circle, tied a slipknot at one end, then secured the other end to a branch, which I stuck outside a rabbit's burrow. The slipknot was placed at the entrance.

If a rabbit's leg caught the knot, it would hopefully struggle and tighten the loop, trapping itself.

Task accomplished, I thought, rather proud of my handiwork.

To make the trap less conspicuous, so the rabbits wouldn’t notice, I covered it with a layer of fresh grass.

Next, all I could do was wait. I left the area and hid near the valley entrance, crouched in a hollow by the mountainside, quietly waiting.

The wait was long; no rabbits appeared for ages.

Unknowingly, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the sun was already leaning westward, but thankfully not much time had passed.

Sleepiness gone, I looked toward the trap, only to be thoroughly annoyed—several rabbits were grazing right beside it, and as I watched, some even hopped atop the trap.

"Damn!" I muttered angrily.

I strode toward the trap; the rabbits, seeing me approach, scurried back to their burrows.

I tested the trap several times, but to my disappointment, it was utterly useless. It took considerable force to tighten, far more than a rabbit could muster.

Would a rabbit pull hard enough? Of course not!

So my time was wasted.

Little Black was waiting for me to bring back grilled rabbit and rabbit stew, yet here I was, empty-handed.

Frustrated, I yanked out the worthless trap and hurled it aside.

How useless I was!

But anger comes quickly and leaves just as fast. Once my frustration subsided, my mind cleared.

I began to think of new methods.

Soon enough, another idea struck me.

Though I'd never made a snare, as a child I used traps to catch birds.

I dragged a relatively flat boulder and a palm-sized stone to the valley entrance. I crossed the ends of two branches and placed them atop the small stone. Then, using a slightly longer branch, I wedged it between the two crossed branches and used it to prop up the boulder.

This was a simplified version of a bird trap: if a rabbit touched the branch pressed against the small stone below, the longer branch would shift, causing the boulder to drop and hopefully pin the prey before it could escape.

I was confident in this trap; I’d caught many sparrows with it before.

Surely rabbits wouldn’t be much harder.

Then came another long wait. I hid in the same spot as before.

The rabbits' caution was agony. Just as I was about to doze off again, they began to emerge from their burrows—dozens of them, running freely, joyfully, eating, chasing each other.

But I grew anxious—not a single rabbit ventured near my trap!

Predictably, I was frustrated.

"They’re coming, they’re coming!" Just then, a rabbit munching grass approached the trap.

"Just a bit closer, just a bit closer," I prayed, impatient from the wait. I wasn’t asking much—just one plump rabbit would suffice for Little Black and me tonight.

If this trap failed, I had no other plans, nor time.

But when the rabbit was about a meter away, it suddenly bolted.

"Ah," I sighed.

Perhaps today I’d really return empty-handed.

"Wait a little longer," I told myself.

After about thirty minutes, two more rabbits hopped toward the trap.

One was clearly a glutton, nibbling its way right beneath the boulder, its head stretched under the stone as it devoured the fresh green grass. Unfortunately for it—or fortunately, depending on the perspective—it didn’t touch the trigger branch.

The other rabbit wasn’t so lucky. I watched as it burrowed fully beneath the boulder.

Though the stone hadn’t fallen yet, I knew it was only a matter of time.

"If only both could be caught at once! I could…" Before I finished the thought, a muffled thud reached my ears.

The trap had sprung!

The other rabbits, startled by the commotion, scattered in all directions.

Excited, I rushed to the trap.

Got it! Definitely got it, my heart pounding.

Even from a distance, I could see the rabbit pinned by its head, its hind legs twitching intermittently…

"Phew," I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t return empty-handed. After a moment, I lifted the boulder, and sure enough, there was a second rabbit beneath it—two with one stone. I was quite pleased.

"Every method is invented by someone, hahaha," I exclaimed.

Carrying two rabbits, I spoke to myself, thrilled!