I attended Arctic survival school in 1973. The rabbit population had bottomed out, which Biologists have noted may be cyclic. The USAF in it's wisdom had conducted classes in the same area for several years. Even to my untrained eye it had the look of a Civil War battle puzzle with all the horses mising. We stomped around building snares and shooting the Ithaca survival rifle.I never once saw a rabbit. My issue Camillus survival knife snapped batoning firewood. The instructors were impressed with the speed and craft with which I built my survival trench.The group retired hungry. I crawled into the privacy of my sleeping bag and blocked entry with rucksack. I pulled the Camillus utility folder, as yet unbroken ( I would destroy it years later decorking wine) and cut the internal panel thread on my parka.I extracted ; Hershey bars, cheese,pilot bread and smoked salmon. I resolved that night to find a better knife, worthy survival rifle ( my present Smelly with 215 grain rhino bullets) and, raising my fist, announced " As God is my witness ( chomp! chomp!), I'll never go hungry again!" My voice carried better than I thought. My CPO, a thin Georgia Cracker whispered " Hey Scarlet O'Hara, trade you some cornbread and porkfat, I know you have something.