Forget the deer: let’s find some bunny habitat

Two or three snowshoe hares used to be common but no longer.

It's almost Christmas, and my back deck has already been shoveled a dozen times. That's right, that often so far this weekand it’s coming down hard as this is being written.

Folks, if you want snow to slide off your metal roof and save you a laborious back-breaking job, get a day of 35 degree temperatures and combine that with 20+ inches of wet snow on the roof, and shoveling becomes more than an ordeal; it can become an adventure in knowing when to duck your head and body under the eaves.

Ice sometimes forms under the snow pack, and as everything begins to warm and wet snow falls on the present load, things begin to happen. Gravity exerts its inevitable force on the snow, and it slowly begins to move.

Snow always moves downhill slowly, and then builds quickly into an avalanche.

Snow doesn't move up-hill. It comes down, and quite rapidly at times and with very little warning.

There is little time to think about falling snow coming off the roof, but know this: the one place you do not want to be is under the snow and ice once it begins plummeting toward the deck. The force of the impact literally shakes the house.

The avalanche begins with a faint creak or two as the metal roof flexes a bit under the strain, and next is a barely audible hiss. If you hear the hiss, you best be ducking for cover fast because the snow will come crashing down in one or two seconds. That's all the warning you get, trust me.

There is very little warning with snow on a metal roof. Creak, creak, hiss and here it comes. If you snooze, you lose this one-sided race. If you get hit by a 50-pound jagged piece of ice on the old noggin, your shoveling days may be over.

Seriously, this year's early snowfall has put a snuffer on my local deer hunting. I shovel every day that it snows, and since my measuring device is attached to my house, I can tell how much snow we get.

We are at between 45 and 50 inches of snow so far.

Mind you, it may not be exactly accurate because some of it may be drifted snow, but I use my back deck railing as a guide. Each morning I look at the railing, and if there is a noticeable amount of white stuff, I measure it before starting to shovel it off.

Since mid- to late-November, we have got 46 inches of snow. I don't care if it all falls straight down out of the sky or blows in sideways, what is on the railing is counted daily in inches. I usually keep close track until we exceed 100 inches of snow and to continue counting is a waste of my time.

One hundred inches of snow is too much of a good thing. By the way we are going, unless the snow slows down, we may be close to that rediculous number before we usher in Christmas.

It's almost too much now right now to easily get around. Me and deep snow, make for a major problem for someone with poor vision.

It has a tendency to cover fallen logs, brushpiles, stumps and other things that continually jump out in front of me, and I manage to entangle my feet in them before falling to the ground in a might splash of snow.

That’s why I love to hunt snowshoe hares. I let hounds circle bunnies to me.

It's one reason why I used to hunt snowshoe hares as often as possible. You'd walk in the cedars, find a single track, sic the beagles on the track, and wait around for the short-legged hounds to circle the hare within shotgun range.

Well, I don't know about you, but the last 10 years has been tough on snowies. They seem to be disappearing rapidly, and finding a spot where it sometimes is possible to shoot one of the ghost hares, has become almost as difficult as walking easily in 30 inches of snow.

All of my old hare hotspots have cooled off, and we're lucky to find one or two hares each winter. In some cases, we head into the cedar swamps without a firearm. We'll let the dogs run the occasional bunny, but shooting the hare is almost a criminal act.

And that, my friends, is a rather sobering thought as hare numbers continue to spiral downwards.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors