During Great Depression years, a half dozen “rabbit boxes” could feed a family all winter. J. R. Coker and his brothers had thirty rabbit boxes, scattered all over fields and woods at Track Rock Gap, Georgia. “We’d run those traps every day. We had plenty of rabbit to eat. Mother would fry rabbits like chicken. We’d take our rabbit hides to Carl Jackson’s Store. He’d pay you twenty cents for a rabbit skin, and write you a piece of paper, “I owe you in trade 20 cents.” Yeah, done it many a time. Carl would hang his hides up all around that little ole store building. About once a week, he’d carry’em to Atlanter and sell ’em.”
—Smokehouse Ham, Spoon Bread & Scuppernong Wine
It’s been a long time since I ate rabbit, but I like it. A quick look at the current world of homesteaders will show a resurgence in the popularity of raising rabbits for meat.