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30 August 2003
My first entry into my Rabbit Journal for 2003-2004 season is a sad one. I
am sorry to report that Maggie has passed away. Maggie as my regular readers
know that she was one of the few dogs that Uncle NoPass named that wasn't a
family name.
Always a slow dog, she had an uncanny nose that could not only cold trail,
but could scent where the rabbit was thinking about going. Last year, she
trailed and barked most of the season on cotton tails that the other dogs
couldn't scent or even believe exist. They were right. No one had the heart
to make her stay in the pen while we hunted, so she happily went with us,
chasing ghosts of rabbits past.
Her contributions are chronicled in The Rabbit Journal 02-03 which easily
surpassed redneckin in popularity
17 September 2003
I built one stand in a small red oak on the edge of a small opening
surrounded by briar and thickly planted pine mixed with the ocassional
hardwood that had survived the timber companies assault. It's so thick, even
when you get up above the brush, you can't see anything near the ground.
Instead, I hollowed out a opening in the midst of the thick packed inner
branches, maybe ten feet off the ground and put a couple of two by four's
topped with a scrap piece of plywood. The shot (the only shot!) is six solid
steps. I told you, I like it up close and personal. It's going to be one of
those you see him or you don't and I can't hunt it with any type of East
wind. Coming to a full draw without him seeing me is going to be the
problem.
I, also jumped three rabbits in three different areas. That should please
Uncle NoPass, the grumpy old goat. He is getting more and more hard headed
and opinionated. I'm glad I ain't like that.
Heh!
The dogs were in good shape. Not that I was surprised. Uncle NoPass takes
better care of a animal than a grown up. He figures its a person's job to
look out for themselves. The domesticated animals have no choice or ability.
That's something I'm beginning to believe about most people now days.
It's in the air
1 October 2003
2 and I decided to put off fishing till next week since it is so windy in
Apalachicola.
It wasn’t long before my aunt, who is married to Uncle NoPass, called to
say that they were going to Wedowee, Alabama on Thursday and did I want to
go. I quickly volunteered to meet at their house to help my 83 year old
uncle load the dogs and then drive up there. Despite Uncle NoPass’s great
desire while serving 3 years, nine months and twenty two days in the Pacific
in WWII without a pass (Hey, he tells them, I just repeat them), to be a
jeep driver (hints or not, never my cj), it’s better for me to drive. He
might miss the occasional shot at a rabbit now, but he seldom misses a fence
post with his truck.
Dogs for a out of town visit?
Of course, Rabbit season starts today (1 October). You didn’t think it was
just to get new lies, er I mean new Tales to inflict on you, did you?
2 October 2003
Why?
To try to explain why a middle-aged man would suddenly fall in love with
the sounds of beagles chasing rabbits, I'm going to repeat a edited email I
sent to Indigo about a rare rabbit hunt in the snow near Wedowee, Al in
February of 2002.
Perhaps its just another childhood.
" Cold.”
The four year old planted pines were about 8 foot tall and planted thick on
a series of steep ridges. The ends of the limbs were capped with a rare snow
and were so thick that the only way you could get a shot was as the rabbit
passed between your feet and you had to practice some pretty good shot
placement then. Cuz rolled one that I don't know how he could even seen the
rabbit, much less avoid putting some pellet holes in his boots.
About noon the snow was melting some and it was wetter than the inside of a
rain cloud as the pine limbs brushed against you. And those boots and winter
clothes started getting really heavy before the top of each new ridge.
Briars were so bad that you had to take 6 steps to go one and to make
matters worse, the only two! rabbits I saw were in someone else's game bag.
Then, insult on injury, after the last drive of the day, as I got one of
the wayward dogs back to the trucks (having walked about 2 miles to cover
only about 200 yards, if you were a bird flying) I found that Cuz and Reuben
had put up their guns and were draining the beer cooler. I had to drive back
and deliver them to their doorsteps while they had a good old time telling
lies.
Had a great time. Can't wait to go back."
My Best, Rimfire
Gone hunting with Uncle NoPass on Thursday.
Lies certainly to follow
3 October 2003
My Bunny Gun?
A 16 ga. Fox.
It's a pleasure to tote and shoot
4 October 2003
The Kid
One of the good things about having a kid along on a fishing or hunting
trip is that they are so handy for us “Elder Sportsmen“. Elder Sportsman is
a term usually reserved for those like me, over fifty, although the pecking
order runs deep. The stature of the position allows you to pass down to the
kid any chores that are beneath your richly deserved status in life. There
are dues to be paid before the kid can earn such an exalted position for
himself.
For instance, you shoot a rabbit and if a kid is handy, you call him over
so he can admire the rabbit while listening to your fifteen-minute discourse
on the difficulty of the shot, the speed of the bunny and your lightning
quick reflexes. As he turns around, you say “Just a minute, I forgot my game
bag. Let me put him in yours.” You do this on the theory that he will be
grateful for the chance to carry your stinking dead rabbits in return for
you imparting a small portion of your vast store of wood lore.
I arrived at Uncle NoPass’s house slightly before the agreed 7 a.m.
rendezvous and listened to his fussing as he finished his breakfast about
having wasted half of the season already, despite it only being the second
day. He was primed and ready to go. At 83 and in slowly declining health, he
had a point since he didn’t get to hunt on opening day.
The ride up to the foothills, north of Valley, was pleasant though I was
disappointed that, except for the dogwoods, very few of the hardwoods had
started to change into their fall colors. It was still a treat to get away
from the pines for a while. About the only thing that marred our ride on the
back road to Wedowee was the constant traffic. Where the heck are all you
people coming from?
Well, go back.
After picking up Jamey Lee while dropping off my aunt, we hurried to the
cutoff where we were to hunt. Skeeter was already there with his two dogs,
Bill and Girl. Bill was a local legend, though a little long in the tooth.
Girl was Kate’s mother and you couldn’t tell the difference between that two
without looking at the collar. Getting my bag of gear out, I began to gird
myself for mortal combat against the wily rabbit with snake chaps, rope,
orange small game vest, pin on compass (helps keep me lost in only one
direction), gun and shells.
Jamey Lee, Skeeter and Uncle NoPass were all contemporaries with well over
200 years of rabbit hunting experience between them. As they got their guns
and folding chairs from the back of the pick-ups, they decided to hunt the
east side of the road because the west side, known to the owner as Hell’s
Bottom was, well, Hell.
Unlatching the doors on the dog boxes, Skeeter let the five beagles push
open the doors and jump to the dusty red dirt road. They nosed about for a
few minutes while taking care of some pressing personal needs Then it was
straight into Hell’s Bottom where they started running. NoPass, Skeeter and
Jamey Lee listened to the rabbit leading the dogs in circles down in that
impossibly thick bottom and agreed that the rabbit would stay in the bottom,
circling till the pack of beagles lost him unless…
Jamey Lee told the other two, ”How about we send the kid in there to break
it up?". I was just snapping shut my snake leggings and glanced around to
see what kid I had missed when I realized that all eyes were firmly focused
on me. I think they felt I still owed some dues.
He ran through the briars.
And he ran through the brambles.
He ran through places where a rabbit couldn’t go
As I worked myself into the bottom trying to cutoff the rabbit or move him
to the logging road, the three elders of the rabbit hunting fraternity
waited in relative comfort, sitting on their folding stools, sipping coffee
and listening to the “fun” down below.
Thick.
Lord it was thick.
The snake chaps saved my legs from being scratched up by the thick stands
of cane briars and wait a minute stickers that laced the low branches of the
tightly packed pines, but not my stomach and fore-arms. As usual, my upper
body began to look like I had taken a bath with a cat
A large doe materialized in the tangles walking down the faint trail
looking back where the dogs were running hot and heavy. When her head swung
around to see where she was going, her eyes widened and her nose flared at
the my sudden appearance. She blew and sprinted up the hill. The dogs passed
in a circle across where the deer had just bounced through. Robyn, named as
Uncle NoPass always does for a family member and the newest member of his
pack, glanced up the deer’s trail. I held my breath. This was her first test
and she passed it well by ignoring the running deer and continuing on the
rabbit’s path.
We lost that rabbit but as I tried to lead the dogs out, Kate jumped again
and the pack was off and running. That was the way it went all morning. I
trudged up hills. I fell into patches of vines as they snared my feet. I
threw old tree limbs onto the green briars in vain efforts to bend them
enough for me to get a foot on them. I got on my hands and knees and crawled
under vines. All in my quest to press onward to the dogs and by extension,
the rabbit.
I cussed.
I fussed
I didn’t see a single live rabbit.
And like the dogs, I’m so out of shape.
Late in the morning I heard a single shot and hurried to the firebreak that
circled one of the bottoms. Or at least as hurried as one can be in a sea of
ten foot “wait a minute” stickers, alive and unbowed by frost in the mild
October weather. Skeeter was picking up the rabbit as I came into sight.
Seeing me, he launched into a fifteen-minute description of the difficulty
of the shot, the speed of the rabbit as it juked left-then right and his
lightning quick reflexes making the shot. As I turned to walk up the steep
hill to where the truck waited on the road that crowned the ridge, he said
“Just a minute, I forgot my game bag. Let me put him in yours.”
12 October 2003
I really could use a new pair of rabbit hunting boots
I’m busy packing for my camping/bow hunting trip for whitetail deer, here
in Russell County, Alabama. I’ll be gone from the 14 of October till….… The
weather should be nice. Cool with a few showers, it will make stalking both
easier and quieter. If the wind is from any point but east, I’ll hunt the
red oak stand. I’ll see my rabbit hunting friends when I get back.
21 October 2003
New pair of rabbit hunting boots from GF for my birthday.
30 October 2003
Don’t marry a woman who won’t make you go to church
Was some advice Uncle NoPass gave me as we rolled in a light rain toward
Mr. Murty’s place out near the Salem-Shotwell Covered Bridge near Bleeker,
Alabama. The bridge is falling into disrepair and Lee County, Alabama
residents should be ashamed. While I would like to see it stay where it is,
I fear some idiots will burn it down one day in it’s current isolated site.
Maybe a local fund drive could be started to save it.
The rabbit hunt last Saturday in Wedowee was a bust. I jumped one small
rabbit all day long and instead of shooting as it sprinted down a trunk of a
long fallen sweet gum, I called for the dogs. They milled around where I had
last seen the rabbit, unable to pick up the track. The only real highlight
of the trip was the dirty look Brag gave me when I suggested we send in the
kid.
Uncle NoPass said our first hunt in Wedowee the weather was to windy to
hear the dogs. The second hunt in Wedowee, he said it was to hot and dry for
the dogs to pick up the scent. As I pulled into the yard of the abandoned
house where we would hunt, I wondered if todays excuse would be “to wet“.
Well, they are handy excuses, but I hated the thought of having to use all
three on consecutive hunts.
After the first forty five minutes or so of fruitless briar beating, brush
kicking I began to rehearse the excuse in my mind. “It was to wet after all
that dryness and wind” when Kate started to squeal. This was followed by
Robyn’s deeper voice and then Lady joined in. The overgrown clear-cut, which
had never been replanted, was thick with briars, vines and various sapling’s
and the rabbit walked under them followed by the low-crawling dogs.
The rabbit held tight in the cover, stubbornly refusing to come out and
play. Realizing that once again I was the kid, I waded into the briars and
vines. Working my way toward the dogs, I discovered a draw back in the snake
chaps briar shedding ability when I got my feet tangled and fell into a
sitting position on some blackberry vines. GF was busy last night with the
tweezers. Ain't she a saint?
Under pressure, the rabbit left the thicket we were in and headed across a
large patch of low growing brush. As the dogs milled around with their backs
and white tipped tails showing above the brush, I wondered how they could
have possibly lost the trail. The reason was simple. The rabbit, a small
sager, had stopped next to three or four small (really small, as in tiny)
sweet gum saplings and let the dogs pass him. I saw him as he exploded from
under the trees headed back into the thicket I had just kicked him out of.
Demonstrating my lightening fast reflexes and keen hunting instincts, I
extended a pointing finger and yelled “rabbit”, instead of shooting. I don’t
have a clue why. The dogs knew he was a rabbit. The rabbit definitely knew.
Knowing the rabbit would circle again, I told Uncle NoPass to wait where he
could see the clear area leading into the small field while I went up the
old logging road another thirty yards.
I watched my uncle as he saw the rabbit. He had to look down at his lap to
cock the hammer, taking his eyes off the rabbit. He then raised the old
twenty gauge single shot and fired his single shot as the rabbit seeing
NoPass dove back into the wet weather creek bed. A clean miss. If he was
disappointed, he never showed it. Nor did he make excuses though he had
plenty of legitimate ones ranging from age to strokes to eye sight. I, on
the other hand, was the one disappointed. I, so badly, wanted him to make
the kill.
Thirty minutes later, we quitely talked as we listened to the dogs running
the rabbit down in a bottom even I wasn’t fool enough to go in. While he
told me again of far off times and places, I noticed something move toward
us. The rabbit was back and skidded to a stop only a couple of feet from us.
He froze in shock at our sudden appearance.
“Shoot the rabbit Ted shoot the rabbit”
“Where is he” said my uncle as he looked off into the distance.
“At your feet”
Just as he looked down the rabbit took off , running down a long straight
trail. Uncle NoPass made no effort to raise his gun. Instead came a command
”Shoot him” I raised the old 16ga. Fox and tracked him for a few seconds,
letting a gap build so I wouldn’t shoot him to pieces since Mr. Murty wanted
one for supper.
I walked over to him and waited till the dogs came up the trail and smelled
him. NoPass came over and said “You forgot your game bag. Here put him in
mine and tell me how you got him to stop so you could hit him”.
After I finished my fifteen minute discourse, Uncle NoPass said “Lets go
home, it‘s been a good day” even though it was only eleven. “I’m stiff all
over cepting my peter. Did I tell you I spent three years, nine months and
twenty two days in the South Pacific without a pass. I wanted to be a driver
but they said I shot to good for that……………”
20 November 2003
Robyn is your dog. Won’t run nothing but a rabbit. Everybody says so.
Ownership of Robyn has swung back and forth since the day Uncle NoPass
introduced us.
Now, it seems that I have my dog back. For awhile.
Robyn has fallen from the good graces of Uncle NoPass for the major
transgression of disappearing during the opening drive. On the three
previous hunts, all three dogs, Kate, Lady and Robyn, performed decently,
ignoring startled deer and sticking to the rabbit. Decently enough for Uncle
NoPass to start speaking rather fondly of His three dog pack.
Tuesday, though, was a total disaster.
I opened the dog box allowing Robyn, Kate and Lady to jump to the ground
and start nosing about. On this first drive, the three dogs jumped and
started bawling their way up out of the bottom and over the top and into the
distance. Deer?!
Knowing that the surest way to get Uncle NoPass riled was to cast
disparaging remarks about his dogs running deer, I avoided that four letter
word by loudly and often wondering where the dogs had got off to. Everybody
knows His dogs didn’t run a deer. They were the finest dogs in these parts.
Wouldn’t run nothing but a rabbit, everybody says so. So that pretty much
ended any question of the identity of or even existence of the prey.
Later as I doglessly kicked my way through some waist high weeds and
briars, I performed a minor miracle when I levitated some three feet off the
ground and moved several feet back before starting to descend. I was aided
in the performance by a copper headed water rattler, desperately writhing
through the thick growth as he tried to avoid my approaching boot.
Kate and Lady chose that point to show back up, probably to investigate
what had made the high pitched shriek. After over 75 years of beating the
brush, Uncle NoPass had seen many such examples of levitation and knowing
most were for the same reason yelled at me “What did you see? A snake?”
“Yes. Call the dogs.”
Why is it that dogs and kids always seem to turn hardheaded at the wrong
time? I didn’t have a clue where jake was and wasn’t about to go and find
him. The dogs finally listened and came over to us, but Robyn was no where
to be found.
We never did get a real race. The dogs just nosed around and showed little
interest in hunting, wore out as they were after the long run they had just
made.
Uncle NoPass called about eight that night to tell me they had picked up My
dog Robyn out near the Judge’s place after being called by some kids who saw
the phone number on the collar. His tone indicated that I owed him for
picking up My dog. I suppose I’ll have to take him rabbit hunting to make it
up to him.
Sigh.
Gone camping/deer hunting for about a week. I’ll talk to ya’ll around
Thanksgiving.
27 November 2003
Thanksgiving Prayer 2003
Thank you for GF. Why she puts up with this old goat, I’ll never figure
out.
Thank you for 2’s company.
Thank you for my friends, both cyber and physical.
Thank you for Auburn beating Alabama despite Tuberville and his merry band
of underperformers.
Thank you for the two deer in the coolers.
Thank you for beagles, rabbits, and Uncle NoPass.
Thank you for the 2+3 and early morning’s on the Apalachicola Bay.
Thank you God for the miseries in life because they can become blessings.
Now I'm off to aid GF.
1 December 2003
Walking Sticks
Cuz, Bourbon, Brag, Judy, Little Girl and I held “our” first rabbit hunt of
the season the other day. Judy and Little Girl being Cuz’s rabbit dogs. Judy
is the perfect rabbit dog, in my eyes. Cuz will only lend her out to two
people and I’m proud to say I’m one of them. Sorry Indigo, no Uncle NoPass
this time.
We left Cuz’s house for Seale about 9:30, trying to give the deer hunters
time to get off their stands before showing up to turn the dogs loose. Our
club is a little different than most. In some they would just about shoot
you or your dogs if you turned loose a pack of hounds where some deer
hunters were in their stands. In this case, Cuz holds the lease and the club
rules are generally what he says they are. And if he wants to rabbit hunt
then ……what you going to do?
It’s, in general, a good club with a good mix of hunters and personalities
that are tolerant of each others quirks. Me, I’m more or less the loner of
the group. I spend my time camped by myself in the back of the property,
showing up for dinners and such. Sometimes.
We parked where Cuz’s son had told him he had seen rabbits on his way to a
deer stand. It was a good choice. We killed four rabbits and had six races
on that single hill side. I killed the first, a sager, as it crossed a small
planted patch of mixed greens. He flipped and landed in a setting position
like he was fixing to take off again. The second shot out of the old 16ga
double barrel Fox was pure reflex. Bourbon and Brag walked up while I waited
on the dogs who were far behind. I gave the mandatory 5 minute description
of the shot and it’s difficulties such as hitting such a extremely small
rabbit running for dear life.
The final three came in or around a large thick stand of devil’s walking
sticks near the base of the hill. I killed the second one as he streaked for
the safety of the tangled briars mixed in with the sticks. He was even
smaller than the first. Brag jumped the third one and fired two shots, to
speed him up some and make it more sporting he said when I shot him a few
minutes later. Yep, three for three. That gave me the big head.
The final rabbit proved to be a big buck who ran the dogs on a long looping
circle and I was positioned perfectly in a stand of small pines that he
crossed through the on his way back into the devil’s walking sticks. I
flipped up the Fox and casually fired a dead on shot into a pine tree that
suddenly jumped in front of the rabbit. Startled by the tree’s willingness
to take a bullet for the rabbit, my next shot kicked the pine straw behind
the rapidly fleeing bunny. This helped shift him to a higher gear, making it
a little more sporting for Bourbon and his Sweet Sixteen waiting on the
other side. Not enough though.
17 December 2003
Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a driver in the Army?
We had decided to hunt at Mr. Murty’s place out past Bleeker, Alabama, so I
met Uncle NoPass and his grandson Brag at NoPass’s house about 9, Saturday
morning. Uncle NoPass was in a fine mood and set near a floor heater talking
about past hunts while taking his own sweet time putting on his boots. My
Aunt told him to hurry up and get out from under her feet. She proclaimed
that he had been complaining only 30 minutes before about the late start and
now He was delaying the “boys” another 30 minutes while he put on his boots.
Since we were hunting on Middle Boy‘s deer property, I had decided to leave
Uncle NoPass‘s about 9:30 and be at Mr. Murty‘s about 10. When we pulled
into the muddy front yard of the old abandoned farm house that was slowly
surrendering to decay and vines, Uncle NoPass was wrapping up a story with
“That’s cause I wanted to be a driver in the army in World War 2 but they
said I shot to good for that so….”. It turned out Middle Boy hadn’t needed
to 10. He only needed till 8:30 to kill a nifty little 10-point. And this
was after passing up a three point at 8:00 because he was too small.
We ran the first rabbit for a good hour and a half before the dogs lost
him. They were in and on the other side of some briars, so thick, it was
useless to try and penetrate them. I missed the big buck rabbit with a
farewell salute into the briar patch when he passed (at high speed) behind
me. No one else got close, much less a shot and no amount of directing the
dogs could get them to pick up the trail again.
Rain began to drizzle down.
Lady and Robyn gave up and came out, but Kate was hardheaded and stubbornly
tried to find the rabbit. Finally, Uncle NoPass and I lead Robyn and Lady to
the truck while Brag remained to get Kate.
When we arrived at the truck, Uncle NoPass decided we had to drive into the
back to find Brag. No amount of arguing would dissuade him. Finally, I
agreed and eased his 2-wheel drive truck with its street tires, down a
narrow red clay trail. The tire treads packed with the mud, quickly became
oversized slicks and began to spin on top despite my attempt to “ease”
through to the other side. Uncle NoPass began to fuss that I wasn’t doing it
right. I had to put it into the “creep gear” and just creep through it
despite the fact that I had just succeeded in getting us stuck by following
that exact same advice. But he knew. After all, he spent 3 years, nine
months and 23 days without a pass in the South Pacific during World War II.
He wanted to be a driver but they said he shot to good for that, so………
I looked the situation over and decided that if Uncle NoPass would give it
a little gas when I lifted on the back end, it would get some traction and
began to move again. I explained to Uncle NoPass what I wanted and he
hurriedly dismissed me with the fact he had wanted to be a driver in World
War Two but they had said he shot to good for that and…..
I watched through the rear window as my 84-year-old uncle looked at the
gear indicator and put it into “creep”, He, then, floored the accelerator,
sending a spray of red clay off of the tires, coating me in droplets of the
sticky substance. When the tires began to slip, he snatched it into reverse.
Seeing the move, I countered by kneeling on the bumper and spreading the dog
boxes apart so I could vault through them if a tree made a sudden
appearance. The tires began to slip, so Uncle NoPass snatched it into
“creep” again and re-sprayed me with droplets of red clay. This time the
tires grabbed and slowly slipping and sliding he made his way down the lane
to the nearest place to turn around. I jumped off the bumper and fell into a
setting position in the freshly churned clay.
I stayed out of his way as he backed and filled his way into a 180. While I
waited for him to stop and pick me up, he slowly rolled past me into the
place were he had just been stuck. As I stood in the lane watching as he
rolled into the wallowed area, he shifted into “creep” and floored the
accelerator again fishtailing out of the hole and splattering me once again
with clay. I trailed along behind, catching up to the tailgate now and again
before Uncle NoPass would goose the engine on down the road. I swear I
thought I saw a grin in the rear view mirror.
He pulled up next to the Pathfinder and parked. Rolling down the window, he
called out to me “See, I told you, stick with me, I’d get her out of that
hole. I wanted to be a driver when I was in the army but they said I shot
too good for that…. By the way, what happened to you? Fall in the mud?
21 December 2003
Christmas parties are taking up this weekend.
On Friday, I helped Middle Boy on a side job in Hartselle, Alabama. North
of Birmingham, the drive took longer than the actual work and I was running
late to attend GF’s friends party Friday night when my vehicle died at a
intersection during rush hour. I was a couple of hours late for the party,
but did finally show up.
This evening's party is by the owner of the corporation where she works and
then tomorrow is her corporate party.
Cuz and Brag called while I was out last night. The best rabbit hunt in
this young season is scheduled for the Saturday after Christmas. There will
be at least two packs of beagles and if Archer comes there will be three or
four packs on property that hasn’t been rabbit hunted in a couple. Deer
hunters on the property have reported seeing multiple rabbits every day.
26 December 2003
Why, on Holiday’s and long weekends?
Each breath I took in the cold crisp air this morning was by necessity a
mouth breath. The old nasal passages are clogged because of a mild head cold
everybody around here seems to have. The air coldly caressed and wrapped
itself around an offending tooth that had started the vague dull throbbing
ache late Christmas Eve. Each breath seemed to concentrate my awareness on
it’s slowly increasing demand for attention instead of any deer who might
wander across my path.
I figure the deer meat will be as safe as any of your processed government
inspected FDA approved beef treated with antibiotics, hormones, mad cow and
God knows what else.. As the morning wore on and the ache increased, I knew
it would take an exceptional buck before I would shoot this morning. Of
course, I didn’t see anything, so my resolve was untested.
Try to find your dentist when the day after Christmas is a Friday. It took
a few phone calls before I tracked him down at his vacation home. No doubt
lounging in the hot tub he installed after my last “emergency” while sipping
hot toddy’s as he watched the activity on the lake. He was probably
contemplating his newest toy purchase that opportunity had just dropped into
his wrinkled waterlogged lap as he took my call.
“Chuckie my dear boy. Merry Christmas, A pleasure to hear from you. My wife
and I were talking about you only the other day while we were at “Boats R
Us”. What can I do for you Next Monday morning?
Uh huh
Hmmm
Pain?
Ok and the G. Dickle White Label is wearing off?
Heh! A headache and toothache
And you want me to give you some pills to make you feel good enough to go
rabbit hunting tomorrow?
No problem, just pay my receptionist when you come in Monday. I might be a
little late, I have to put a deposit on something at “Boats R Us”
27 December 2003
What a dud!
The great prime time rabbit hunt was a total bust with mis-behaving dogs,
vanished rabbits and a sore tooth. I should have just laid on the couch and
let GF pamper me.
Well, I can dream, can't I?
1 January 2004
Happy New Year
2, Lu, GF, Uncle NoPass, Brag, Cuz, and all the rest, hope you and yours
have a happy and properous new year.
And me to
May God smile on you.
8 January 2004
Blue bird days
I was thinking of taking Uncle NoPass rabbit hunting today at Mr. Murty's
but the cold weather (low 30's) interferred with those plans. At 84, Uncle
NoPass really needs more blue bird days to hunt, so we planned one for
Saturday. Hopefully, the rain expected this afternoon and evening, will have
passed our area by then.
But In the meantime, I'll clean the bathrooms and tend to more mundane
chores.
10 January 2004
It’s time to bring everybody up to date on the new rabbit hunting boots GF
gave me last October for my fiftieth. Remember the ragged remains of my last
pair? My old friends with their sole gooped and the uppers hanging in
shreds, are still the most comfortable boots I’ve slipped on my feet though
they were never really waterproof.
The new ones, GF bought for me, were a pair of Rocky Prowler 7380’s that
were GORE-TEX®ed, Thinsulate™ed and Cordura®ed from BassPro Shops. Light
weight with a distinctive tread pattern on the sole, they were comfortable
from the start and required very little breaking in. They haven’t leaked a
bit except for the times I’ve stepped into a hole that let the water pour
over the top of the boot whose laces have been tugged loose by vines and
briars. . Or like today when I became tangled in some cane briars and fell
on my butt in a water logged bottom. The water ran down the snake chaps
soaking my pants but only the upper cuff of the tied boot became wet.
Well, how are they holding up, two and a half months into the hunting
season?
Take a look.
12 January 2004
Nine rabbits at the Gray Rabbit Hunt: The Rematch
I'll prepare a post later but here's a few pictures to tide you over
15 January 2004
Gray's Rabbit Hunt 2: The Rematch
I’ve posted a few pictures of the Gray hunt
The first Gray rabbit hunt was a bust. Beautiful property near Pittsview
Alabama, it was managed for it’s owners passion--birds. Specifically Quail.
They were everywhere. Unless the land is managed for quail, they are rare
enough around here to startle both the wary and the unwary.
I would be walking through the thick low brush and see something dart away.
Tensing up and getting ready for the rabbit to go barreling away, I would
feel my heart flutter away when suddenly a half a dozen of the fist sized
heart attack inducers would explode out of the brush all around me. My
reaction the first time was a wild jerking around looking for what was
fixing to get me.
Soon we quit tensing up although the puckering continued, not because the
birds quit busting out around us but we didn‘t see any rabbits. We walked
the creek bottoms and brush patches. We checked the planted food plots. We
checked the hillsides and ridges. Not a single rabbit. Quail everywhere. The
question on our mind was “Do quail eat rabbits?”.
Towards the end of the hunt we came to a thick stand of planted pines. Judy
quickly jumped and led the rabbit on two circles before it crossed fifteen
yards from me. I fired a shot into the grass behind him, not even coming
close. A already tired Judy decided if nobody was going to kill it, she dang
sure wasn’t going to chase it anymore.
After that disaster of a hunt, I was somewhat surprised when Cuz called me
a week or so later to tell me we were going back. This time we drove
straight to the planted pines on the very back of the property. Letting the
dogs out, they nosed around a few minutes before Lady and Little Girl took
off barking with their head up.
Deer.
Judy looked in their direction and went back to work trying to find a
rabbit. After 20 minutes, Lady and Little Girl came back to rejoin Judy in
the work at hand. Both had sheepish looks at having lost their manners so
completely and tried to tell us they were just checking out the next bottom
over. Cuz wasn’t buying it for a minute and chastised them, threatening to
ship them off to a deer club. They worked diligently the rest of the day.
Not a quail to be seen but plenty of rabbits. I guessed wrong repeatedly
all morning. If I went into the bottom, the rabbit went up on the hillside.
If I was on one hillside, he was on the next hillside over. At lunch, we had
four rabbits. The key word here is “we”. That’s the good thing about a
rabbit hunting group- The specifics don’t matter when telling an outsider
about the quantity of rabbits. “We killed four” really meant Dusty, Cuz’s
fourteen year old grandson killed two while Rye and Gary got one a piece.
Lunch is an informal affair with our small group. Tailgate down, Rye
spreads small chunks of hoop cheese and souse meat on a bag and opens a pack
of crackers. Elbows are only used to nudge Dusty away from the food so you
can get your own. Like most fourteen year olds, he is all stomach. Tiny and
Chris were working on a lease nearby and stopped in to see how we were
doing. “Great” I told them “we got four so far”.
After lunch were more great races. I still hadn’t scored when the sun
dropped below the tops of the pines. The dogs jumped as we moved back
towards the trucks and moved in tight circles on the edge of a large green
field. Tired I looked a point of trees that jutted into the field and
thought briefly of walking to it in case the rabbit decided to cross the
wide open field. The field was a hundred yards wide at that point and the
teat of land broke it up in half. Instead, I set where I was and fiddled
with my camera. Just as I reshipped the camera case I heard Cuz shouting
“There he goes Chuck” I looked in time to see the rabbit skirt the edge of
the point of trees and start the final fifty yard sprint to the safety of
the thick dark pines. The rabbit was sprinting to safety and I was sprinting
down the edge of the field to get into range. Slower than the rabbit, I
skidded to a stop and lobbed in a desperation shot. I was trying to emulate
Cuz, who was notorious making such shots.
Not even close.
Brag rolled him halfway down the hillside.
“We” closed out the day with 9.
Just between us the final score was
Brag 3
Gary 3
Dusty 2
Rye 1
Cuz missed
Chuck………..
17 January 2004
“Possum Dogs” or “A troubling thing”
Won’t run nothing but a possum, everybody says so.
Brag, Uncle NoPass’s thirty year old grandson met me at the door and I
followed him across the polished wood floors, scratched and scarred by
countless pairs of hunting boots. In the rear of the house, Uncle NoPass sat
next to a gas floor heater that burned bright orange in the dim light., Once
again, he was taking his own sweet time putting on his boots. “I always had
dogs” he said bending to tie his boot.. “I couldn’t have but three cause
that’s all my daddy would let me keep.” I was surprised that my grandfather
let him keep that many considering there were eight surviving children and
they made their living farming forty acres near Wedowee, Alabama in the
1930‘s. It was a hard living. “Rabbit dogs, squirrel dogs, possum dogs, coon
dogs. I could have any I wanted, but I couldn’t have but three cause that’s
all my daddy would let me keep. That’s why most of my dogs ran what I
told‘em to.”
Not satisfied with the knot, he untied it and began again. Brag and I
waited patiently though we had heard much of it before. Brag more than me.
We loosened our cuffs and collars to vent the heat into the already over
heated room. “ I always asked for shells for Christmas. Most of the time
though all I got was some oranges and a few pieces of hard candy less’un
Daddy had a good crop that year. I had to be a good shot, I hunted for my
Momma’s kitchen. That’s where our meat came from cept when we butchered a
pig. Most times it was to valuable for us to eat. We sold the best and et
the scraps.”
Satisfied with his first boot, he turned his attention to the other one. It
was rare for him to talk with pride about dogs that ran anything but a
rabbit.. “Me and my cousin, Chester, had some good un’s” referring to dogs.
“One night we were possum hunting and our dogs were barking treed on a
little hill in the middle of a pasture. The closer we got, the worse
something smelled. At the top was a dead mule that our dogs had treed. We
finally put the leashes on’em to get the dogs to leave. They kept insisting
that the dead mule was a possum. Chester said ” Did that mule move?” It’s
dead, how could it move? About that time a possum came from inside the dead
mule and run’d down the outside and off into the darkness. The dogs lunged
for the possum and jerked me over on top of that swole up dead mule and all
the gas came swooshing out from where the possum did. Stank? Lord it stank.
Chester started laughing and then he smelt it and got sick. I took a bath in
the branch trying to get rid of that smell but it was in my nose. I smelt it
for weeks. The next time I smelt that bad a smell was in the South Pacific.
Did I tell you I was in the South Pacific in World War Two? Three years nine
months and 22 days without a pass. I wanted to be a driver but……”
He then stopped and said a troubling thing. So troubling that Brag and I
exchanged glances. “I’m near eighty four years old and I can’t keep taking
you boys hunting all the time. Ya’ll gonna have to do it yourself sometime.
But lets go, I’ll show you how to do it, again,”
On this hunt, Uncle NoPass hunted for less than an hour before he went back
to the truck and waited for us. In doing so, he has only himself to blame
for missing the great possum hunt of 2004.
We made a revisit to Mr. Murty’s place out past Bleeker. Kate and Robyn
jumped at the same place and the (same?) rabbit ran the same route as the
last time. And once again with the same results. The briars were just to
thick once he got to them. The next time we’re going to station someone
where he has entered the acre of cane briars that tower seven feet before we
work the dogs. I could see Uncle NoPass as he made a wide loop leading back
to the truck. The dogs got tired of fighting the briars and came out. Brag
and I started leading them back to the truck when they jumped. Kate let out
the most enthusiastic squeal I have heard come out of her this year. Robyn
joined in and the race was on. It was a gully, some fifty yards by thirty
yards, thickly covered in blackberry briars, and willow sapling’s edged with
patches of broom straw. Around and around the dogs went. Brag, Mr. Jones and
I stood on pine stumps peering into the bottom seeing only the white tips of
the dogs tails and sometimes their back. Of the rabbit, all we saw was the
occasional flash of gray, There was never enough time to get a shot. Ten
minutes into one of the most tightly ran race this year, the rabbit saw an
opportunity and broke for the side that Brag was guarding. As he moved into
the open pines, I saw Brag flip his shotgun up and lean forward and…..put it
down. Laughing, he called out “It’s a possum.” The possum scaled a small
sweet gum and peered down at us while we leashed the dogs and lead them back
to the waiting truck.
We told Uncle NoPass about his dogs running a possum and waited for the
usual explosion about his dogs being the best dogs in these parts won’t run
anything but a rabbit. Everybody says so. Instead he started laughing and
asked “I got possum dogs?” The very idea seemed to tickle him. “I bet they
are best possum dogs in these parts. Won’t run nothing but a possum. Let’s
go home. I need to tell the wife we need to take a nap so we can go possum
hunting tonight.”
If you’ve made it this far, you are one of the Uncle NoPass faithful. I had
set a hunt up this Saturday. It was troubling when he suggested Brag and I
had to learn to hunt without him. Then he begged out of the hunt saying he
didn’t feel well. Nothing particular wrong, just didn’t want to hunt. I told
him, Brag and I were planning our annual Martin Luther King Jr. day rabbit
hunt and if he felt up to it …… He said maybe if he felt better but if he
didn’t to just get his dogs and go without him. Melancholy would be the best
way to describe my mood. The end of an era is coming.
20 January 2004
Ya lost my dogs?
You lost my dogs the first time I let you two go rabbit hunting by
yourselves?
The two being referred to were Brag and myself of course. “ I showed ya’ll
and showed ya’ll how to handle dogs and ya ain’t learned a thing. How can I
quit rabbit hunting? You two won’t never get another rabbit if I quit now.“
Eighty three year old Uncle NoPass continued “Come in here with some story
bout my dogs running a deer. Those are the best dogs in these parts won’t
run nothing but a rabbit. Everybody says so…………….”
Wouldn’t you love to have been a fly on a wall at Uncle NoPass’s house that
afternoon when Brag and I returned from our second annual MLK rabbit hunt.
Last year, it was just Uncle NoPass, Brag and myself. Everybody else has to
work. The dogs in question were Kate and Robyn. Robyn was technically my
dog, but ownership seemed to depend on the circumstances. Right now, Robyn
is back in Uncle NoPass’s ownership if not exactly his possession.
Uncle NoPass begged off going. Overall, a wise choice due to the raw and
blustery weather. And for the first time, he insisted Brag and I take His
dogs to hunt without him showing us how it’s done. It could have been the
weather or it could have been a troubling thing.
The ride to Seale was pleasant. Brag and I (mostly I) agreed that the
driver got to pick the radio station and since Brag had one of those pretend
trucks, he got to listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd on the way down. Could just as
easily have been Uriah Heep or Conway Tweety or John Lee Hooker or even Dr.
Hook or………
Robyn and Kate ran two nice races but Brag and I couldn’t seem to get into
position to shoot. The conversation between the “finest dogs in these parts”
Kate and Robyn probably went like this “What’s wrong? Maybe we’re chasing
the wrong thing. Lets chase that big thing. It looks like it’s got more meat
on it anyway.”
And off they went. Uncle NoPass’s dogs,” who ain’t never run no deer”,
running a deer.
That was about 1 in the afternoon. We looked. We hollered. We hiked to “the
next hill over” trying to hear. We rode the paved road. We stopped at houses
and business’s in the last general direction we heard them. We DID NOT want
to go back to Uncle NoPass’s without his dogs. We knew the scene before it
was to be played out and we were dreading it. I told Brag on the short,
mostly silent ride back to Uncle NoPass’s that, for the dog’s, I hoped the
cold night (23*) in the woods was a learning experience-Don’t miss your ride
back to town.
“I tell you, I just don’t know.” Uncle NoPass said. “ Don’t you boys pay
attention to a thing I say? I reckon I’ll have to go show you again how to
do it. This time try to pay attention.”
21 January 2004
Gone to look for the dogs
If I'm not back by 8, then it's likely I'm using a come-along and a really
long rope 21 January 2004
Hallelujah
The prodigals have returned…..with no small effort on my part
Uncle NoPass reads the riot act to Kate while Robyn waits her turn.
24 January 2004
This is a test. It is only a test.
I've gone with Brag to check out the new dogs. We plan to run them in the
same bottom that we started in when we lost Kate and Robyn on the great MLK
day rabbit hunt. I'll post later but you arre in competion with a fourth
rabbit hunt at Gray's. Fourth? You thought it was only two? I haven't posted
about the third hunt involving a 18 year old boy from NJ shooting a gun for
the first time. Don't worry, I'll get around to it.
Uncle NoPass who was going to ride down with me tomorrow and help pass
judgement on Brag and mine's new investment, has decided not to go afterall.
Just another troubling thing.
What have Brag and I done?
By the way, did you know that Brag and I, mostly Brag, own four new dogs?
Yeah, well I didn't either till he called me last night.
Four little ladies that won't run nothing but a rabbit. Everybody says so.
Or at least the man who sold them to Brag said so.
If you've enjoyed my story's in the past just wait. Now that Brag and I
seem to own four new dogs, or rather Brag mostly does, he plans to sell the
two he doesn't want and I got a funny feeling I know to who that would be.
He gets a two week trial and if he's unsatisfied then Brag takes them back.
I figure I get the same deal from Brag.
24 January 2004
The new dogs did pretty good, today
Not as good as I wanted but not bad as I feared.
For the dog’s it must have been a frightening experience. They had only
been hunted by the owner and with the same two partners. Three of the four
little ladies, Maizey, Dixie and Julie, were less timid near us as the day
wore on. Only Sugar proved difficult to get up at quitting time.
The rabbits were scarce today, so they only ran two races. One thing I
didn’t like was how close and silent they hunted till they hit a really hot
track. The first race was in a pin oak bottom with patches of honeysuckle
vines mixed in with some really nasty briars. The rabbit made two narrow
loops on the facing hillside before crossing the narrow bottom to enter the
thicket that Brag had kicked him out of. I was setting on the ground about
15 yards from Brag when I saw the rabbit coming down a trail head on toward
me. A thin screening of briars only inches from me gave me to camouflage I
needed. “There’s the rabbit” I softly said to Brag. “I see him.” At the
softly spoken words the rabbit froze in his tracks as he tried to divine
where the danger was. Deciding that it was safer to go back the way he came,
he turned around and headed back down the trail before turning and going
into a two hundred yard long stack of pine logs and debris. Created by the
timber company by pushing a acre of pine beetle killed pines into a row,
they werean impossible situation. We didn’t shoot because we wanted to see
how dogs did.
We decided to stop on our way out at spot that always gave us a race. Today
was no different . Brag jumped a rabbit from it’s bed . He whooped for the
dogs and they came willingly although silently. Hitting the hot trail, they
started bawling up the trail the rabbit took. After only a few minutes, they
lost him. I hope it was in the water pit and not because they over ran the
track and couldn’t find it again.
Now we wish we had shot so we could guage their reaction. Nothing worse
than a gun shy “hunting” dog. Now we'll have to wait till the Gray hunt
tomorrow before we find out. If we don't get rained out.
26 January 2004
The dogs just got better and better as the day went on.
Dixie, Sugar, Julie, and Maizey were timid most of the morning. That was
probably due to not only Brag and I still being new to them, but now they
had to contend with a new pack of both humans and dogs. We turned them out
with Cuz’s two dogs, Little Girl and Judy, the Grande Dame of what passes
for our pack of dogs and Dusty’s , Lady. They nosed around in the planted
pines and began trailing. Judy and the new dogs were silent. Only Lady and
Little Girl gave voice. Soon the pace picked up and Lady and Little Girl
began to run hot, trailing Judy and pups behind. Deer!
Judy and the pup‘s stopped and came back to begin looking for rabbits.
Totally uninterested in the deer or the pursuing Lady and Little Girl. They
had many opportunities to in the course of the day. There were deer
everywhere, but each time they showed zero interest. Brag and I have crossed
fingers that they never do. Judy, of course would never even entertain the
thought of running anything but a rabbit. She is one of the last greats that
Uncle NoPass had. And like so many of his dogs-admire it and he would give
it to you….if he took a liking to you.
Except for passing on the deer, nothing else seemed to go right that
morning. We couldn’t even have bought a rabbit. The pups stayed under our
feet even when Judy finally found a rabbit to run. At one point they were
running up and down a firebreak road looking off in Judy and the rabbits
direction. Finally, Dixie raced into the overgrown clearcut to help. The
rabbit crossed the road and Rye got him. Maizey ran up to the dead rabbit
and began smelling it. She then grabbed it growling and shaking her head. We
took the rabbit from her and let the pup’s take a smell and then we headed
for the truck and a quick lunch. And to see if Little Girl and Lady had
returned. Nope.
After lunch, it was one rabbit after the other. The dogs came when called
after we jumped a rabbit. They jumped and ran their own rabbits. They cold
trailed lead by Judy. Overall, they showed a lot of promise. They are still
skittish but coming around. This weekend is the Brown Road hunt. One year we
killed 18 rabbits in front of one dog, Judy. They’ll get a workout and we
still have a week and half before deciding if we’ll keep them although I
think we will.
Lady and Little Girl turn up this morning. Cuz got a call at one thirty in
the morning from someone who said they had found a dog with his name on the
collar and was there a reward. Cuz exploded “A reward for finding a rabbit
dog that ran deer. Hell, Lady just keep the dog.” That probably explains
that when the wayward dogs turned up today, Little Girl was a few miles down
the road walking towards the Gray place thumbing a ride while Lady was
setting on the front porch of the house at the Gray place.
31 January 2004
Deer season is over. Long live rabbit season.
Now that the deer hunters are out of the way, it’s time for the rabbit
hunters to have some fun. The dogs are well rested and the Brown Road hunt
is tomorrow
12 February 2004
The Dog man is usually the last to get home
The hunt started slow with the threat of rain hanging in the air. Brag had
assured me last night, that it wouldn‘t rain till dark, but I must say, I
had my doubts. We finally kicked a small sager out of some really tough
briars. Just about as tough as the ones at Mr. Murty’s place, only a few
miles west of us. I don’t know what it is about Lee County briars, but they
are sure a mean bunch. The rabbit led the dogs on a figure eight before Brag
dropped him on the edge of a planted firebreak. Cuz’s dogs, Judy and lady
were first to the rabbit with Julie, Maizey, Dixie and Sugar bringing up the
rear.
The second “rabbit” race started only a few minutes later with Brag yelling
“Rabbit”. He was in the middle of a hillside, thick with small planted
pines. Hitting the hot track, the dogs opened up. I was standing at the
bottom of the hill on a small planted strip that stretched up the fairly
steep incline watching for the rabbit when a doe bounded into view. As I
watched the doe, a horrible suspicion grew in my mind. Brag and My dogs were
running that deer and not a rabbit.. I sprinted up the hill trying to get to
the trail before the dogs crossed. Making it with less than a minute to
spare, I broke off a thick pine bough and hide behind a tree next to the
trail. When they raced into view, I jumped from behind the tree, yelling and
swinging my branch. They yelped an put their tails between their legs,
racing back to the relative safety of Brag. They behaved fairly well the
rest of the day, although I’m still not sure what Dixie was up to for a half
hour.
The final race of the day started a few minutes after turning the dogs
loose at a new place. I moved down a hillside and sat on a log to listen to
the dogs running in a hardwood bottom over the hill from where I was
setting. With Brag, Dusty, Cuz and Rye lining the line where the hardwoods
ended and the planted pines started, it wouldn’t be likely for the rabbit to
come through here without me at least hearing a shot fired at him when he
crossed that picket line of sharp shooters. I cradled the old Fox under my
arm and used that hand to hold my snake chaps open while I dug a peppermint
out of my pocket with my free hand. Peppermints are a vice of mine that came
when I quit smoking several years ago. You know what happened next, don’t
you? Yep, the rabbit came strolling down the hill, only a matter of feet
from me. He was well ahead of the dogs, having slipped past some of the
sharpest eyes, I know. I fired two shots, neither of which had a chance of
hitting the rabbit who had shifted into a higher gear when the “log”
suddenly began to jerk around trying to raise it’s 16 ga. Shotgun.
Our final score? I really don’t remember, but We got around seven. They
were hard earned though. The white tip on all the dogs tails were a bright
red, while Dixie and Julie had noses that were streaked with blood. Sort of
like mine. The nose, not the tail.
Towards dark , the threat of rain had become a fine mist that was gathering
on the windshield. The wipers smeared the wet dust across our windshields as
our three truck convoy started the journey home in the gathering gloom. Home
to a hot shower.
But first the dogs…….
13 February 2004
The Notasulga Rabbit
(pictures) hunt went well
While waiting at the truck stop this morning a vehicle pulled up and the
window rolled down. "What you boys doing?"
Going rabbit hunting." Brag replied.
"I love rabbit hunting. I used to do it all the time."
Brag said "Your welcome to come with us."
Unfortunately, other duties called but not till Pat bs'd rabbits for
fifteen minutes or so. Some of the most normal looking people get obsessed
with rabbit hunting, from a small time blogger to Auburn's former Coach, Pat
Dye.
The three dogs, Dixie, Julie, and Maizey, are shaping up. Poor Sugar, in my
opinion just will not make the grade. She is to skittish and extemely hard
to get ahold of when you want to drive to another spot. She won't even make
a good yard dog.
I couldn't hit my butt with both hands today. Or most any day. Thank
goodness for the "we" rule of counting how many rabbits We got. Final score:
We got 12 and one in a hole.
A couple of pictures at the hunt
14 February 2004
I took GF out for a Valentines Day lunch.
She enjoyed that more than a dinner this evening, since it's a treat for
her to see me during daylight hours on a weekend in February. I told her
"See how much I love you that I would sacrifice one of my last few days of
rabbit hunting for you?" She said "Give me a break. It's pouring down rain.
The dogs would have to swim after the rabbits."
But I could tell that she was deeply moved. Almost as moved as last year
when we upgraded our relationship to a "understanding" from our 5 year
"permanent date". The exact details of the "understanding" will have to be
determined at a later date. That date should be at least a year or so before
we upgrade our relationship to "pre-engagement" staus, for a yet to be
determined duration.
Speaking of Sea Hares, I saw the term and I thought I had found me a new
sport though I wasn't to sure what breed of dog to run (swim?) them. Then I
found out it was some type of slug. I suppose that you could use some of
those shells loaded with rock salt like Mr. Newsome used to chase coons,
possums and twelve year old boys out of his watermelon field. Dang it
burned.
15 February 2004
Pouring down rain and I get a call from Cuz
That bunch of fools are still going to Greenfields for a rabbit hunt. Oh
well, fools of a feather flock together.
Gone rabbit hunting.
16 February 2004
Uncle NoPass’s dogs might not run a deer. I’m sure everybody says so.
But I’m here to tell you Brag’s and mine did. Heck, might still be running
it as far as I know.
GreenFields is legendary in my mind. Mainly because I’ve heard Uncle NoPass
and Cuz talk about the huge number of rabbits they saw on some hunts there.
They said it wouldn’t be unusual to see the dogs in a mad pursuit of a
rabbit dive into a thicket and have rabbits shooting out from all sides,
like a covey of quail flushing. Cuz said it always sounded like a dove shoot
. So you can see why I was looking forward to this hunt with special relish.
Then it rained and rained till that morning. Sheets of water every where.
But, still beautiful rabbit habitat. Briars, the color of Japanese maple and
honeysuckle vines with small green orosetas for next years growth draped the
thick overgrown shrubs next to the greenfields. The plant growth offered
protection from aerial assault as well as ground.
We couldn’t jump a rabbit.
Deer yes, rabbits no.
Four rabbits vs. fourteen deer.
I told Brag that I didn’t like the way Lady was running around with her
head up on our first drive. The dogs jumped a few minutes later, almost in
front of me, but I never saw the rabbit. The race lasted about a hour and a
half before fourteen year old Dusty killed the rabbit. It had covered a lot
of very, very wet ground that in large patches was covered a inch or so in
water. When the young dogs lost the trail, Judy would splash up and
straighten the trail out. Judy is something. We once shot 18 rabbits and she
was the only dog. Although Lady was Dusty’s dog by way of Uncle NoPass, she
was no Judy. If it looks like I’m trying to pass blame on what was to
follow, I am.
The second race began when the dogs jumped and took off on a long straight
run before hooking straight back at us. We confidently lined a break waiting
to see who of us would shoot. Suddenly, the rabbit turned and was again
racing straight away. Casting looks at each other , I was pretty sure Brag
was having the same thoughts as me. Deer? Then Judy came strolling out of
the bushes. Deer for sure. Judy was one of Uncle NoPass’s dogs who truly
wouldn’t run nothing but a rabbit and Yes everybody did say so. Tiny said he
saw the dogs cross the road but not what they were running. He said Lady was
in the lead, running with her head up. Our four wayward girls trailing a few
yards behind.
Brag and I didn’t worry to much. Dixie, Julie, Maizey and especially Sugar
hadn’t strayed to far from us since we had got them. Buts as the day wore
on, Brag and I got increasingly agitated, casting looks at far away hillside
and loudly encouraging dogs that weren’t there. I listened to Judy run a
nice last race in a small circle around me. I heard the splash as a big buck
rabbit hit a small swamp and nosily splashed to the middle before turning
hard left followed by a right and into the thicket behind me. Little short
legged Judy dove in only a minute behind and followed every turn the rabbit
had made. The rabbit raced in a tight circle and I knew he would head back
into the water again to try to mix his scent in with the trail he had just
laid. I was kneeling looking underneath the thick cover that started 3 feet
off the ground when I heard a rustling behind me. The rabbit and I saw each
other at the same time and he froze. I one-handed the Fox behind me and shot
him just before he bolted into the swampy area. The satisfaction was
short-lived and I began to worry about the missing dogs again. Cuz and the
rest , pulled out in the very late afternoon. He told his grandson to get in
the truck. Dusty replied he still had a dog to get up. I liked that. The
boy’s gonna be a good one.
Dark came and we finally gave up. Brag and I left our top shirts and a
small bit of food on each shirt.
I was back, alone, before eight this morning, having totally forgot that
Dusty was out of school and would be wanting to look for his dog. I checked
the shirts and the muddy road for any sign. Nothing! I checked the kennels
to see if the bird hunters had put them up. I rode the few and little used
back roads stopping to yelp and call the dogs in the teeth of a cold and
blustery wind. Thermos empty, I stopped at the store in Pittsview where a
lady said she saw a pack of hunting dogs cross US 431 above the passing
lanes. The kind or description was unsure. But I rode the back roads on that
side, all the way to Seale. Nothing.
I finally gave up and came home to wait for the phone calls, till in the
morning
Curiouser and curiouser
The phone calls started about six and have sparked some degree of
confusion. A coon hunter near Dudley’s quarters called my Aunt, Uncle
NoPass’s wife to report that he had their dog. Well, my aunt and uncle
weren’t missing a dog, but Cuz who had neglected to change Ladies collar
was. My aunt made arrangements for me to pick up the dog tomorrow morning. I
called Brad at work and told him. Then my aunt called me back and said a
lady had called and said She had one of their dogs tied up on her porch. So
now my aunt and uncle had two found dogs that they didn’t have to begin
with. I called Cuz to see if he knew anything about the second dog. No. When
I hung up my aunt called me back and told me the lady had just called back
to say a man in a small brown pickup had picked it up and said to be on the
look out for four more. My aunt called the coon hunter back who told her he
had just checked and the dog was in the pen. So now my aunt had one found
dog they had’t lost and one dog lost that they didn’t know they had. In the
meantime, don’t nobody know nothing, much less me. But one thing I do know.
Brag and I don’t know where our dogs are.
17 February 2004
Julie and Dixie are back
Maizey and Sugar are still missing. Lady was both the dog found and the dog
lost. A twofer, so to speak.
I'm beat. A shower and the bed calls.
18 February 2004
Will the people using the search string "breaking beagles from running deer", please email if they find out how?
I've already heard of putting them in a barrel with a deer hide and rolling
it down the hill.
Heh
19 February 2004
Maziy is back
The four dogs were found in three different places. They were all turned
loose at GreenFields next to county 4. Lady, Dusty's dog was found hoboing
the railroad tracks next to 26. Across the fourlane from Seale, she was nine
miles as the crow flies from the starting point. Next back was Julie and
Dixie. They turned up at Mr McCoy's Leather goods and repair shop near the
Mariah Church. That's only a couple of miles from the jump off. Maizey
turned up two miles north of county 4, but several miles down the road from
the entrance. Only Sugar is still out and I don't have much hope of getting
her back. If you remember, she was the really skittish one that didn't want
you to touch her. You can't catch her to read Brags name and number.
Roadkill is her likely end. I don't know what was done to make these dogs so
skittish, but I don't want to repeat the mistake
22 February 2004
@%^& Dogs!
Time for a
little tender loving care
“Did either of you boys tick somebody’s husband off?” Rye said while
watching the occupant of the large black truck unfold himself from the
interior. Turns out it was the host of our hunt and he was a big man. Not
fat, but tall and solid. Walking over to where I was sitting on the grounds
lacing up my hunting boots, he extended a hand as he said “Chuck Myguts? I‘m
djmed“. And thus began the “not ready for prime time rabbit hunters and
their poor, poor puppies that only need tender loving care to see the error
of their ways and quit chasing deer“ rabbit hunt on the edge of the Auburn
city limits.
djmed's Rabbit Hunt
pictures
We pulled up to the first green field surrounded by briar patches near a
old abandoned house. Brag and I exchanged looks that read” we are going to
get a bunch of rabbits today”. Brag jumpstarted a rabbit and Judy, Julie,
Dixie and Maizey took up the chase only to lose it a few minutes later.
The dog’s struck shortly after and left Judy behind as they raced across
the facing hillside. Brag raced to them and called them off. Odds are it was
a deer, but as Brag said he didn’t see a deer but he didn’t see a rabbit
either.
We beat briars after that. One rabbit that was jumped dashed into a half
acre of some mean Lee County, Alabama briars and refused to come out and
play. I think they feed those briars or something. They chew me and my
clothes up every trip north of Phenix City. I heard Fred and Richard
discussing that the next time they would remember their chaps….but in the
meantime would join Rye in cutting off any escaping rabbit on the road,
safely away from the briar patches. Djmed, on the other hand, plowed through
the briars.
Right at lunch we jumped a small sager who ran near djmed. The loud Booom
caused Rye to want to know who was shooting the 10 ga. That was a sentiment,
Brag and I shared. It turned out to be djmed’s loads of 12ga 3 inch magnum
steel shot. I think they were powerful enough to gut, skin and quarter up
the rabbit in that single shot.
After lunch we moved across the paved road. Brag and I surveyed the thin
strips of tangles and wondered. The first thing we jumped was a bobcat. So
much for our bragging that Judy wouldn’t run nothing but a rabbit. She was
lead dog till the cat shot into a hole where the dogs couldn’t get near it.
Or maybe, the dogs decided that discretion was the better part of valor and
didn’t try to hard to get to the sharp claws and fangs that awaited in the
tight hole.
Then disaster.
Brag jumped a rabbit and sic’ed the nearby dogs on him. A deer popped up
and ran for deer (dear?) life to get out of the oncoming traffic. The rabbit
bolted right. Judy raced after the rabbits. Julie, Dixie and Maizey,
mesmerized by the bounding white flag, raced into the distance. They came
back one time before turning and going out of hearing. At dark, neighbors
could still hear our pleading for the dogs to return. I couldn’t believe
they embarrassed me and Brag like that.
The attention getter should be here late next week. Maybe it will be to
late for this season, but as soon as turkey nesting season is over, these
dogs are going to be introduced to a “voice of reason“. A five hundred yard
extension to my pine limb without the softening effect of the pine needles.
Translation: If they were males, "I think "Knock their dick in the dirt" is
the phrase that comes to mind
25 February 2004
Djmed has been a lifesaver this week
Well, at least saved me a lot of hassles by taking them on himself.
The dogs have started turning up individually. Djmed picked up Maizey and
Julie, the two with my # on the collars, last night and is holding them in
his pen. This is saving me from making repeated trips to pick the dogs up.
Dixie is still missing and will be the very first recipient of my coming new
high tech pine limb. Just as soon as I get my hands on both of them at the
same time.
27 February 2004
Club djmed wasn't plush enough for our girl "Dixie". She's hanging out, instead, at the Robert Trent Jones
clubhouse.
28 February 2004
Well, I be danged.
Sugar has showed back up.
Dusty's dad spotted her near the tower in Pittsview and Brag went down to
get her. The other three can handle the training collar with sixteen levels
of stimulation. Sugar, I'm not so sure about.
29 February 2004
Final score on the final day of Rabbit Season 03-04
We got eight.
There will be one final post to the Rabbit Journal 03-04. It will be the
details of this hunt. Effective tomorrow, Rabbit Journal 04-05 comes into
existence. I'll announce it's location when I file the first post. If you
are a reader of the Journal, please check out this page. I plan to use the
same format for next years journal. I'll just change look some. Let me know
if you object and why.
The Rabbit Journal 04-05
/the%20rabbit%20journal/?Page=rj_03-04.htm|Image=1|Digits=5)
© LCM3 2003
© LCM3 2004
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Rimfire at Idlehourwebs dot com
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