Hunting Stories

[Bev]

Hunting season is upon us. WOOHOO! If you have a hunting story you think others would enjoy reading, send it to me with or without pics. I am building and will publish on the North American Beagle website an on-line library of members' hunting stories for us to read for years to come.

They can be fact or fiction, as long as they are entertaining or informative.

They are not limited to rabbit hunting.

I have an old story by Pete "Pappy" Miles loaded to give you an idea and a sneak preview to the library of articles, and I will be uploading more of the good articles that have been submitted to me over the years. You can see how many spaces, however, await your creative endeavors. I know there are some writers and good storytellers on this board. Let's fill up that table of contents.

http://www.northamericanbeagle.com/beaglestories.html

Don't forget to read the story!

Submit any articles with pics to editor@northamericanbeagle.com

Maybe we will make a contest or do some other fun thing out of this. Thanks in advance for your participation!

[oakhill]

Here is one of my hunting stories with Daddy Rabbit.
01-09-10
Hunting With the Legend, Daddy Rabbit!

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Need to start at the beginning....
A guy was suppose to pick up a pup that I brought down at Daddy RAbbit's house at 6:30 in the morning. We were gonna leave out hunting right after he picked up the pup. Welllll, while SB and I were snug in our beds back at the motel, this guy shows up at Daddy Rabbits at 3:30 in the morning. Now being the southern gentleman that Daddy Rabbit is, he tells the guy to come on in and he puts a pot of coffee on and they talk dogs until we get there. Needless to say, I believe Mrs. Daddy Rabbit was trying to sleep thru all of this. If I had know what had happened I would have thrown my hat in the door before I entered that morn because I believe Mrs. Dr was looking for a gun to load my behind with buckshot.
We had a good laugh listening to the story anyway and it was a pleasure to meet the Preacher who came to pick up the pup.

After we loaded the dogs, Daddy Rabbit treated us to country ham, biscuits, gravey, sausage, and eggs which he prepared himself by way of paying the local diner lady. Man, it was goood. So many fat grams all I could think of was hitting the tailgate instead of the briars.

After driving upteen miles with us slipping and sliding our way back some logging roads we reached our destination. Man, was it loaded with rabbits. I have never SEEN that many rabbits in GA at one time. Most usually the rabbits stay in the thick stuff and I just assume the hounds are running them. I saw rabbits everywhere. The first pack we put down was mine and SB's hounds. 5 of my blueticks, one of her blueticks and a little red and white female named Whiskey. It took us a few minutes to get the hounds settle in but once they did the rabbit race was on and on and on and on.....
Now for my story about the gun........ DR told me if I was gonna hunt with them I had to bring a 410 as he doesn't allow anything else to be shot over his hounds. So I got to digging back in the gun safe and found the little 410 I bought for my son when he was about 5 yrs olds( he is 32 now ) This is a little H and R single shot full choke which he used to shoot squirrels. Remind me later and I will post a picture of him with his first squirrel. I do believe those rabbits had me pegged for an easy getaway cause every time the rabbit crossed the power line it was right under my feet. I swear I saw one rabbit stick his tongue out at me as he flew by. Well, after 4 shots and the rabbit kept going I thought to h*## with this and threw the gun in the creek. (not really but it was a thought. I just stood it up by a tree and picked it up on the way home) Now they can kid me all they want but I got more rabbits on film than they did on the tailgate and I can enjoy them for along time while theirs will be compost.

After a wonderful lunch of Arbys roast beef and cheddar, chips, and apple fritters provide by our new found friend Doc we put the red hounds on the ground. Now these hounds had been in the box all morning running the rabbits with our hounds from a distance. The temp was well up into the 70's and they were hotter than a firecracker. Heck, I was in season shock. My body said it was winter and the air said it was spring. I started out with plenty of clothes on and by the time we got ready to go home I had to walk around and figure out what bush I had left my clothes hanging on plus my gun down by the creek. Anyway, the hounds got down and found a few mud puddles to cool off in and away we went. That red pack smoked those rabbits and if they had had any kind of help we would have had a tail gate full of rabbits. That one rabbit that Doc shot at(refer to video below.. bang, bang, bang) was a 5 shell rabbit. They were moving on....and need I point out here that my gun was down by the creek ...... SB, Doc, and Daddy Rabbit was making Mr. Winchester a happy man that afternoon. . If we had done the percentages I wouldn't have looked as bad as I did.

I really wasn't that tired when we finished up. I have this bad back and if I sit down it relieves the pressure on my vertebrate and then I am ready to go again. That's my excuse anyway.

We had 6 rabbits on the tailgate, the hounds had some great runs, and the fellowship was the best you could ask for. What else could a rabbit hunter ask for????

Now, this is the most important part....FOOD..... After we got home, took care of the hounds, and got cleaned up, the saint of all saints, Mrs. Daddy Rabbit, had a feast prepared that you would not believe!!!! DR had been telling me all day that his wife made the best biscuits in the south and I can sure vouch for that as they melted in my mouth. All I needed was some molasses and I would have been in hog heaven. We had fried vension, mac and cheese, turnips, salmon patties, stewed maters, butter beans, biscuits, cornbread, homemade pickles,and cherry cheesecake. Makes ya wanna howl, don't it??? I probably left something out cause that table was full. I will be eternally greatful, Mrs. Daddy RAbbit.

Now as an off note, we got to see Daddy Rabbit's pet deer that was grown. That deer stayed around Daddy RAbbit's house and sometimes in the training pen. Now if you can picture this grown man calling this deer(by the way, the deer's name is Kitty Kitty Sunshine). He would yell "here kitty kittyyyyy, her kitty kittyyyyyyy" and the deer would come running. I thought I was gonna fall down laughing. We put my hounds in the pen and if they went up to the deer she would put a whooping on them that made them take off back to me and hide behind me. I am only sorry I did not get any video of this as it was the funniest sight I have seen in a long time besides Daddy Rabbit calling that deer Kitty Kitty.
I am sure there is more and maybe some of the others will add to it but this is MY story and I am sticking to it!!!

Thank you, Daddy Rabbit, Mrs. Daddy Rabbit, and Doc for such wonderful hospitality and for making our trip so memorable!!!


http://forum.gon.com/showthread.php?t=2 ... ht=oakhill

[Bev]

That's an AWESOME story, Sally. You got a pic or two from that trip?

[oakhill]

I have reached my limit on posting pictures on here. You can go to GON and see pics and videos.

http://forum.gon.com/showthread.php?t=2 ... ht=oakhill

Click on link above.

[Bev]

Okay, I'm sure that's a setting I can change.

[Bev]

Took me a minute but I've got this figured out. There are 2 ways you can display pictures on this board; attachments and image links.

If you choose "attachments" that means you are uploading a picture from your computer and it is added right into the board's database, of which there is a limit on space. So, after a point it will cut you off.

If you have the picture already uploaded to the web, on a personal website or someplace like Photobucket, you can choose the "img" function which looks like this when clicked:

[ img] [ /img ]

Then paste the url of the picture in between those tags. Then it will look like this within your post:

[ img ] yourdogpicurl [ /img ]

...and the picture will display once you hit submit, but not be added to the board's memory. That kind of picture posting is unlimited. (I put some spaces in the example so it wouldn't try to actually show a pic).

FUN STUFF: your hunting story is now on the site. Just so folks will know how to find them start to finish, go to http://www.northamericanbeagle.com and from the left menu click on Beagle Stories. That simple! It's also linked from the contents page.

Thank you for submitting the story -- it looks great!

[oakhill]

Oh, see how good I am at following directions???? NOTTTT!
I clicked on the link to nab and there is no story link but found it at the top in the first post.
Looks great, Bev. Thanks

[Bev]

Well, that's because I can't follow directions, either. When I updated the left menu of the home page, I forgot to actually "publish" it. It's there now, lol.

[RODNEY KNIFLEY]

I don't no if this is the type stories you want on here bev.three of my friends was running dogs tommy gentry,seth walters, daniel,and i.we was running at the commerce park,in adair co. ky.it was in august,2009.it was of a evening we was hunting 10 dogs ,running in a 50 acre corn field,i was hunting 4 dogs and rest was there's we had a lot of hard running,we started at 6:00 pm.we ran till it got dark.we started catching our dogs,they all come in but one daniel's bj dog.we called him he did'nt come,he tone him with shock collar,he still did not come.finally daniel shocked him,we heard him holler,still we had trouble pin pointing where he was at. daniel started walking into the corn field.he shocked the dog again,he heard him and headed in the direction.daniel hollered back to us and said my dog has went down a drain pipe sloping into the ground and can't come back out. we all headed in that direction ,when we got there daniel's dog was exhausted from trying to come back out of the pipe,which was about 18" around,daniel said i am going in after him,i said daniel they might be snakes in there.daniel is about 6 foot tall weight's about 150lbs. slender built,my self i am 6ft.1" weight 220lbs. i knew i woudn't fit through this pipe.daniel said i have a chain in my blazer go get it, seth went and got the chain.daniel said hand me one end of the chain and stared into the pipe, it was about 24ft. back to the dog.where the dog was at was a bigger space,when daniel got to this space,he got hold of the dog with his feet,grabbed hold of the chain with his hands,and said pull me back up the pipe,so tommy,seth and i began pulling him back up the pipe.we got them out,i told daniel why would they do something like this putting a pipe slopping into the ground with no cover.we had run dogs there many times and never had any problem.daniel said if run here again i will bring something to cover this pipe.rodney

[billi]

I was about 13 when i got my first beagle. Shorty and i was several miles from home one day when he took off after a rabbit. There was one old building next to a railroad track in the vicinity and that is the direction the rabbit ran. I waited for them to circle but after reasonable amount of time i started walking toward the building. This was the last time i heard him holler somewhere around this building. The building was falling down in real bad shape. Someone had told me they grew mushrooms there. I never found my dog that day nor the next. It was about 3 days later i was walking down that track and i heard a whimper as i was hollering his name. I went over by the building and found that there was a passage way between 2 walls kinda like a air pocket. He had ran that rabbit about 60 feet up in that wall a couldnt turn around or back up. I ran home to call my dad hoping he could tell me how to get him out. He said to get a sledgehammer and get close to where the dog may be ....it worked...i got him out ..gave him a drink rubbed him all over..i dont no who was the happiest..ill admit i cried like a baby...We had some times me and that dog..once a train was coming and he wouldnt come ..laid down right in the middle of the tracks..passenger train ran right over him and didnt touch him...it was flying..He turned out to be a fantastic rabbit dog...and left me with many memories..

[Bev]

Yikes! We could start a chapter of short stories called "Narrow Escapes." I bet we've all had those. I can think of a few.

[Buckeye Bob]

This season was turning out to be one of firsts. My son Robbie was now ten and allowed to pack a gun and shoot for the first time. Previous seasons he had taken along his sister’s .410 but it was unloaded and he was instructed how to carry it safely. I had barked at him enough times, glared and threatened to leave him at home if he continued to be so unsafe that now it was second nature for him to always keep the gun pointed in the right direction and to shift his carry position when his walking partner shifted positions. I was pleased as I secretly watched him and announced he was ready to carry a loaded gun.
Before rabbit season we had squirrel hunted with the .410 but Robbie was frustrated because he wasn’t shooting anything. He tried my 20 ga on the next trip out and although we didn’t get close to any squirrel he shot an unlucky grouse that had foolishly flushed in front of us but landed within shot in a silver maple. First blood had been shed and now we were ready for the sport his old man had been training for all year.
Opening day proved to be awesome running for the dogs. I had picked Robbie up from school and we drove to my buddy Will’s honey hole and in short order Will’s two blueticks and Slide and Jerry, our two dogs, were running heads up. Robbie was carrying a new Mossburg Bantam pump 20ga that his old man had used up all of his dog fund money to buy and was itching to shoot a rabbit or two.
But if anything the running was too good. The ground was warm and wet but the temp was dropping keeping the scent down and the dogs ran two rabbits hard and long before holing each of them and Robbie had not had a shot. It was a long cold walk back to the truck and we discussed our plans for the morning, a hunt in a property that had been timbered over the summer.
That night at a dinner I talked to an old friend who asked if I was still hunting over beagles. His son, also ten years old, had been pesting him to go hunting and he wanted to take him out over dogs. Plans were made to meet up in the morning and two ten year old boys went to bed dreaming of dogs, guns and rabbits.
The next morning was cold, in the 20’s, and the ground had frozen causing me to wonder how the rabbits would co-operate. John and his son Colin had showed up ill-equiped and I gave them some orange to wear and Colin got to carry the empty .410. I sternly told him to treat it as if it was loaded and cocked at all time and was pleased to see him make an effort to carry it right. This was his first time in the field or woods with guns and he was very excited.
We had brought along Slide and Dolly for this hunt. Slide is a big,rangy hare bred hound who loves the gun and while Dolly was a fine gundog back in the day, she is now seriously obese and lost a step. Not an ideal match but Dolly was due a hunt and Jerry along would have made too many. Within a few minutes of the dogs let off the leash they had opened and quickly circled a rabbit back to Robbie who was posted up in front of me. For today, I had told him that I would let him hunt on his own and would always be within eyesight of him. I set him up for the first circle but he didn’t even get his gun up the rabbit came through so fast. He adjusted and stepped up on a big stump where the rabbit had just made his pass and this time as the dogs got closer and closer I saw him tense and focus on the briars in front of him. The swing of the gun to the shoulder and the blast of the gun was almost simultaneous. His mother would have gasped had she been there because he teetered dangerously on the edge of the stump before regaining control and after sprinting up to the briars turned and yelled, “Got him!”
Well, this was cause for celebration. John, Colin and I had all witnessed the shot and we all excitedly gathered around talking about what we had just seen as Robbie retold the event with real pride in his face, Slide was screaming in the briars and I had to call him out to show him the rabbit, prompting him to, quick as a snake, grab the trophy and run only to be brought down by an open field tackle from me.
Pictures taken and rabbit stuffed into Robbie’s game vest we moved on. Now the dogs were really fired up and this time Dolly regained a little of her lost youth, jumping a rabbit and running in the lead for a short while before Slide took over. John and Colin had moved down to the farm lane when Dolly opened and this time the race was over quickly. As the rabbit jumped out of the weeds and brush onto the lane and sprinted away John threw his gun up. I saw him pause and then shoot and he later told me he didn’t think he could shoot that far but after the shot I heard Colin say incredulously, ”Dad, you shot it!” Again there was an excited meeting and explanation of the shot. We paced it off at 40 yards and Colin was as proud of his Dad as Robbie’s old man was proud of him.
More pictures to take and hurry to post up because Dolly has jumped another rabbit but this would be the last of the shooting as that rabbit ended up in the big stump pile like so many before it. Two hours later, after walking the rest of the property and seeing coyote tracks in the mud and two red-tailed hawks, we figured we may have shot the last two on the property.
Now it was time for the boys to shoot their guns in the field by the truck, load the dogs and once more cover the high points of the day’s hunt. We dove home to another Saturday’s list of things to be done but knowing there are many more Saturday’s ahead and many more “firsts”.

[Jack]

Some years back when I was running Red Fox. I was running a lot where I wasn'st suppose to be running. But the running was very good and the races long and hard so I felt it was worth getting caught, which I never did. Ther e was a house near where I cast the hounds, but I stayed clear of the people because I felt they may turm me in. I knew the hounds were keeping them awake. One time an old dog never made in back the next morning, so went by the house and knock on the door. When I said why I stopped, the lady called out to her man, " the man with singing dogs is here." She had screened in porch and she said she spend many a night sitting out there and listen to the hounds sing. I still have to smile when Ithink about the "THE SINGING HOUNDS".

[Bev]

Love it, Jack! Great stories you guys. I'll get them on the permanent site soon. Here's one (a true one) I just wrote yesterday:

PILING UP

“Oh.my.GOD, why is she constantly scratching?" I half-bellered into the phone, "I don’t see any bumps or redness, I’ve given her baths; there are no fleas. The only time she isn’t scratching at herself is when she’s sound asleep. It’s like having a hyperactive 7-year-old with a drum set in the house. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump – non-stop...wherever she goes. And at night? She sleeps on the foot of my bed and she’ll start in with that locomotive leg routine. Last night it woke me up shaking the bed; I thought we were having an earthquake. Sometimes she gets so carried away with it she moves into my space and is actually kicking me. It’s driving me crazy.”

“It could be an allergy,” said the vet lady on the other end of the phone. “Everybody’s dogs are itching this time of year. Give her 25 mg of Benadryl twice per day and that should help a lot.”

Okay. More medicine. No sweat. She just finished up 2 rounds of antibiotics, coughing pills, and post surgery pain pills, what's one more?

My current work schedule and geographic situation makes it next to impossible to participate in the sport of beagling on any level that justifies keeping a kennel of dogs. So, over the last couple of years I have been out-placing the dogs who could still compete or hunt...one-by-one finding them good homes that would allow them a better quality of life than sitting in my kennel day after day. It’s been hard to say goodbye to them, but I know it will take exactly 2 bacon strips from their new masters and they will forget I ever existed. Beagles are lucky that way.

This is cramping my style a bit, but it’s not like I’m new to having dogs in the house. With the exception of the last 5 years I’ve always had some sort of rescue mutt companion dog in the house, but the purebred competition beagles were out in their fancy kennels, and I was smug in the knowledge that they could survive best that way. Five years ago when I put Sydney, the rat terrier mix down at age 12, I decided no more dogs in the house. It’s been a stress-free five years. So, it was a no-brainer that I struggled with what to do with my single remaining 13-year-old competition beagle, Dolly. All of my other dogs are gone, and by many kennel owners’ standards, Dolly qualified for the “peaceful nap” exit. She was too old to compete, too old to breed, too arthritic to hunt. She also had a mouth full of rotten teeth that were making her sickly, would cost a small fortune to fix, and I have been lifting her into her kennel for the last year because she can no longer jump up into it herself. Why is this a difficult decision?

Even though beagles are pack dogs, and love to pile up on top of each other to sleep, Dolly never cared to share her house. In occasional acts of futility, I would put other dogs in with her, hoping to find a match, and they would invariably end up standing outside on the wire, looking at me all dejected as if to say, “What now? She won’t let me in her house.” She seemed to prefer the solitude, unless of course, she was looking after one of her generous litters of puppies. Dolly was a dutiful mother, even raised another dog's orphaned litter once, but she was always more than ready to wean puppies when they got to be 5-week-old thugs. Still, after the last hunting dog left I sat on the back steps sipping a whiskey and staring at her in her kennel. With nary another dog around to chime in on a decent howl, I wasn’t convinced that she would truly be happy. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to donning coveralls and boots each night to feed and water one dog, and to make sure the heat lamp was functioning. I told myself, “Winter is coming on. Put her down or bring her in, but make a decision.” I decided that her positive attitude and unfettered appetite warranted a commitment from me to do some things that might improve her health and comfort. After all, this old dog and I had been through a lot together over the years. She has been a trooper in the roughest of conditions, and has always given me her personal best; I owed her that much. First thing would be to fix her mouth.

At times I think I made a mistake by bringing her in. Outside hunting dogs are not like home-raised dogs. They stink, they have no manners, they don’t care where they poop, and the garbage can is their personal food ATM. There are some tricks you can teach an old dog and some you can’t. You just have to find work-arounds and hope for compromise. Now that she’s often in the same room with me, I’ve noticed things about her that I didn’t when she was in the kennel. For example, she snores like a husband, and she’s almost totally deaf now. My work-around for communication is to use a lot of arm waving, pointing, and gesturing. I look like the ground crew at Indianapolis International, guiding a 747 to the gate. During the day while I’m at work, I contain her to the kitchen. Those puppy training pee pads are next to the back door and she seems to understand that’s where I want her to go. So every night I pick them up and mop the area. And now that her almost toothless mouth is healthy, and her old joints are enjoying the warmth of the house and its softer surfaces, she has an extra spring to her step, a happier swing to her tail, and her eyes are still fairly clear and bright. Good grief…she may live for a few more years. I hope I can keep this up.

Sometimes I turn around from my computer and look at her red and white freckled self, sleeping in what used to be my favorite movie chair, and I’m amazed. Considering the amount of hair that’s all over the house now, this dog should be bald. But besides that, I’m thinking back to years before. "Exasperating" is probably a good word to describe Dolly as a young hound. She was too quick with the mouth, excitable - very high-octane, a downright hot mess at times. She could screw up a pack in 2 minutes flat. The ex, who I shall hereto forth refer to as S4B (you can guess what that stands for), wanted to get rid of her, but I sensed something different about this dog. She had almost a human quality to her, more intelligent than the average bear. And then there was that crazy-ass red-ticked coat that fascinated me. There were many things you didn’t need to teach Dolly because…she just knew. You could tell in her eyes that she understood the game. She had a certain sentience about her, and at age 2, I felt she needed more time; it was too soon to make a cut. So, I dug my heels in stubbornly and insisted she stay in our kennel. She had the the energy and personality of a Border Collie working an agility course, and that amused me to no end.

After Dolly's first litter at age 3, a light switch flipped on. All of her good qualities started to manifest themselves into a mature, organized style of running, and she became a serious contender in the field and in show. Within the year she had earned her Rabbit Champion and Grand Bench Champion titles, (not to mention and I got to say “neener-neener” to S4B). She was a delight to gun over and would handle for a child. Dolly became the foundation bitch for our line of dogs, and was the measuring stick by which we tested the mettle of the up and coming. She had all of her litters with me in attendance, watching over her. Without prompting, she learned to sit up and beg for whatever you were eating. An admirable trait for a dog. She trained many a pup in the field, and even led a couple of night-time “jail-breaks” that resulted in the terrorization of the neighborhood yard bunnies by half of our pack. Porch lights coming on everywhere, we scrambled to catch the hounds as they threaded in between the houses in full cry. Ever try to run when you're laughing? I was always so very proud of her – even during those embarrassing moments, so when the marriage went by the wayside in 2005, I brought Dolly and a few others into my modest new camp. She was retired from competition. She was my Champion and I'd always been hers; and I felt she would be better off with me.

Seeing her now, curled up in the papasan chair, the distinctive pattern of her coat which is burned into my memory, takes me back to pieces of our history together that evoke the gamut of emotions. I can see her stand out from a distance – most often leading the pack, chasing the hair off a rabbit, the gallery awestruck by her urgent, machine gun war chant, and the other dogs just hoping to keep up. I envision her standing nicely on the bench, on her toes and posed to perfection, as still as a statue…except for the very tip of her tail. Dolly at her best behavior couldn’t totally contain her enthusiasm. As the bench judge would approach her, she wouldn’t move a whisker, but she would acknowledge him by wagging the last 2 inches of her tail. I think this may have endeared her into a blue ribbon or two.

Some of the memories are downright frightening to recall. I remember a time when she was running a field trial in the strip mines of Southern Indiana and we thought we’d lost her. This before tracking collars were commonplace. She and another dog split from the pack and didn’t come in at the end of the cast. I was worried sick because the terrain down there looks the same 360 degrees for miles, and the wildlife abounds. You lose a dog down there and you can only pray they show up at a farmer's house one day with their collar and name tag intact. A search party was later formed by all the beaglers in our club, and that evening after dark we found the other dog killed on Hwy 57. We put her in the truck; it would be some sad news to deliver to her owner. Dolly was nowhere in sight. My heart sank. I just knew a coyote had gotten her...or something. Suddenly, I heard the rapid roll of her machine gun mouth not too far off. She had made it across Hwy 57 and was running a poor rabbit through a ditch full of water and all around a junk pile next to the road. There were just no words…

Fast forward nine years and now this old, toothless, itchy, stinky, deaf dog is in my chair, under my feet, and sprawled all over the foot of my bed. For the most part she’s alert and tuned in, but sometimes she will startle in her sleep, bolting upright and she will look at me with momentary confusion. I pat her head and then she’s instantly all good. And sometimes in the middle of the night, when I’m in and out of sleep, I can feel that she has carefully army-crawled her way up next to me, using my hip as a pillow. Or sometimes she crawls all the way up to my pillow – her body alongside mine, her warm breath on my cheek. This dog, who for 13 years refused to share her kennel and pile up with other dogs, has decided she will pile up with me. What a pain in the ass. I love her.

[TC]

I love this story Bev, what incredible talent you have! If I could only articulate as well as you.