America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 3)

Episode 42: Jackalope

Awake by the break of dawn, Wyoming and Montana went with their shotguns into the grasslands in search of rabbits to hunt.

"That's three so far," said Montana, placing her kill in a big brown sack. "Any luck on your end?"

"I've found some tracks," Wyoming responded with his eyes focused on some rabbit imprints in the snow.

He walked slowly with subtlety, sneaking behind some sagebrush, looking around until he spotted the creator of the footprints. Perched peacefully atop a smooth rock was a large white-tailed jackrabbit. Wyoming could certainly get a clear shot of the lazy lagomorph lounging in the open. Yet he hesitated when his eyes caught something strange protruding out of the rabbit's head. They looked like the horns of a pronghorn antelope.

"Is that a jackalope?" Montana whispered, crouching beside them.

"It appears so," Wyoming grumbled. "Some jackass probably glued them on there as a joke."

"What do you plan to do?"

He sighed, "Probably for the best I put it out of its misery. It won't be able to escape from predators or the cold weather with those horns on its head, so it's not going to live for very long."

"I agree." She put on her earmuffs and remained silent for him to focus on his target

Wyoming was getting ready to shoot when the hare's ears suddenly became erect. It might've heard the howl of a coyote, the screech of a hawk, or the slight sound of a gun getting ready to fire. They were alert, but that didn't discourage the hunter from proceeding further. Wyoming fired without hesitation. Again, it was a clear shot from close range. He shouldn't be able to miss it. But somehow, the lucky rabbit managed to narrowly dodge the bullet by the hairs of its rump, jumping off the rock. Rather than run off, the horned rabbit did the opposite, charging at its attacker in a stunning turn of events.

"Jesus Christ!" Wyoming sidestepped the attack. "What the heck is wrong with this thing?" He swung the stock of his shotgun around to keep the furious fluffball away from him.

"I've never seen a rabid rabbit before," said Montana, avoiding the little speed demon.

"Me, neither— Ow!" He kicked the rabbit in the chest, launching it into the air like football for a couple of yards. "Son of a..." He hiked up the length of his torn blue jeans, eyeing the laceration in his shin.

"LOL! Can't catch me!" The haughty hare sped off, leaving behind a trail of dust.

"What?" He blinked his eyes, staring in the direction the rabbit ran. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Montana went over to him.

"That dumb rabbit—"

"We're going to have to cut this hunting trip short." She got out some medical supplies from her backpack.

"Is it that bad?" He winced as she applied an antiseptic to his wound.

"Yeah." She nodded, wrapping gauze around his leg. "I'm sure you're gonna need stitches."

"Darn it..." He scratched the back of his head in frustration. "I can't believe I let a rabbit pull one over me..."

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"Is it true?" South Dakota stormed into a general store, confronting Wyoming at the counter. "Were you attacked by a jackalope?"

"How do you...?" He gave her a bewildered look.

"Montana told me everything that happened on your hunting trip," she grinned. "Well, is it true?"

He sighed, "It's hard to say."