Silent and deadly, a tiny assassin

The sound of the bullet whistling through the air for a split second before its impact was rather rewarding, as another rabbit was tumbled downrange.

The last half-a-dozen bunnies at the far end of the green had become familiar with my tactics of walking alongside the high netting at the edge of the practice area to get to within .22 LR rimfire range and had taken to scarpering at the first sign of danger.

Now, however, I was surprising them, having set myself up on the clubhouse balcony some 200 yards away, with the supremely accurate .17 HMR.

This was a tactic the bunnies hadn’t bargained for and I was taking out good numbers each time they broke cover. Every 20 minutes or so another would feel the coast was clear and be brave enough to hop out on to the lush green grass of