A Tale of Running Hounds who Tree
Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 1:10 am
Well Folks those Ole Running Hounds that cannot Tree a Bobcat have been doing it all across the South and South Eastern part of the Country this winter.
Poon, Vacathunter and several others have been having good luck on the Eastern Seaboard. Even ole Perk and a friend had their good Fox Hounds trash on a 32# Tom this weekend.
Friday night 1-11-13 Glen Rybard’s nice Pack of Hounds ended the Rabbit and Deer killing career of a Huge Tom Cat.
A similar size Bobcat from a few years back with remainder of one of three Deer kills close by.
It took 10 Cat Hounds with help from 4 apprentice Cat Hounds (these were coming two to three year olds) and the participation of 4 Yearling Cat Hounds; 30 minutes of hard work Cold trailing, and 1 hour and 45 minutes of intense running to get-er-done.
If you have some time, grab a seat on one of those stumps here by the campfire and I’ll try to tell you about the hunt.
Dad has been cooped up in the house since we got back from Florida in mid-December and wanted to see how Glen Rybard’s young Hounds were doing (as you remember Glen is Dad’s young Protégé having 20 Clay Hounds). We had been having a Major Weather event with lots of rain and snow. There was more coming in late Friday night so it was decided to try and slip in a Hunt before it hit.
Now Ole Glen and his Dad have been having typical Bobcat Hunters luck since the Deer Hunters have thinned out enough to where they can run their Hounds without offending someone. They had Caught and Treed more than a handful but had also had about that many trips when either the Cats were not moving or they had been feeding sorry Hounds (here a 10mph EAST wind can make the Best Hounds appear Sorry).
Glen lives about 65 miles Southeast of us so after an hours trip we arrived at his Dog Pens about 4:30 PM Friday. We were headed to the Hunting grounds shortly thereafter. By 5:30 we were roading 9 Hounds, emptying them out with the other 9 to follow. By 6 we were rigging.
About 6:30 while roading Hounds we ran into the areas resident Coyote Hunter also heading into the Woods to run his Hounds. This fellow is very good friends with Dewey Walton’s Cousin, Teddy Dale Walton (bet lots of you did not know that the real secret to Dewey’s successes is his Arky Roots). We visited a few minutes then headed to opposite sides of this 100 sq. mile block.
Along about 7 PM Rebel announced from the top of the Box that a Bobcat had come out on the logging road we were driving on. This was a different bark from the ones he and Bandit had been making telling us about the Scat piles and Scent Posts that we had driven past (Glen is Houndsman enough to know his Hounds…..when they speak, what it means). This was a Cat that the Hounds should have left the truck trailing fast…..NOT.
That darn EAST wind made an easy Track very difficult. Good Hounds were struggling to advance the Track. Lou, Copper, Jewel and Bigboy worked hard and with Rebel and Bandit advanced the Track to where they had the Cat moving (Cats in this country are hassled regularly by Deer Hounds so will sometimes sit and wait to see if the Hounds are after them, then pull a Bobcat trick or two and easily evade those Deer Hounds). This Cat moved several hundred yards through a 10 year old clear cut, then into a hardwood creek bottom. There he either climbed a tree, ducked into an Armadillo hole, or called the Star Ship Enterprise and had ole Scotty BEAM him up, as the Track just ended.
The Cat was not jumped but was moving and did whatever he did because he wanted to; it sure was not being pressured. There could have been an old log pile being used as a Den in the SMZ from when the logging took place. We had found a Big Tom track and a smaller Sow’s track. If we had been trailing the Sow she had probably had fed around and headed home (in this country, especially this time of the year a Sow will use a Den more often than not; whereas an ole Tom will stop to sleep and rest where ever the notion strikes him) When things went quiet, and the Garmin showed that the Hounds were starting back to the truck after having looked hard for the Cat, Glen blew the truck horn and loaded the Hounds to go find another Cat.
By 9:30 we had played this same scenario out two more times. The Wind had come up even more right out of the East. The third Cat was darn near jumped when it came out into the road and just EVAPORATED! These climatic conditions are frustrating to the Hounds and Hunter alike. Dad and Glen talked about it, Glen pulled up the Weather Radar on his phone (ain’t technology wonderful) and saw that bad weather was on the way. We decided to work our way out of the woods and head home.
As we were driving we saw that the wind had suddenly changed to the NW as the Storm approached closer. The Garmin had shown that 11 pm to 1 am was going to be a prime Game movement time so we took the long way out of the Club hoping that the Cat Hunting Gods might bless us with a 4th chance for Dad to hear Glen’s Hounds go about their business. Well once again the Garmin was “right on” as at 11:05 Bigboy and Rebel again announced another Cat was out and about.
The Hounds trailed out of the road to the South for several hundred yards. Copper’s clear ringing Tenor followed by Dan’s Bass and Lou & Jewel’s Sopranos were telling us that while this was just a decent track they could sure smell better than earlier. The Cat had fed back to the road, crossed to the North and headed into a 5 to 6 year old Clear-cut according to what the Hounds were telling us. The Track moved into an area that probably had snow damaged downed and bent over Pine trees from the week before.
The Hounds were telling us that the Cat’s smell was harder to find. Ole Lou continued to hammer on the Track. Copper, Clint and Rebel were reaching out trying to find the Cat slipping out of the downed damaged trees. But Jewel who is just a little smarter than the others (a Special Hound in our ranking system) found where the Cat was squatting hoping that these were Deer Hounds and that they would pass him by. With her crisp, fast chop she was telling us and the Pack that she had the Cat up and running in front of her!
Folks the Arky version of the Cat Hound Opry had commenced!
For the next hour and ten minutes the Hounds voices were a ROAR as the race ebbed and flowed to the road where we were listening (darn these Garmin’s are great you can always be right where you need to be). At times no one Hound's mouth could be picked out it was so loud. But like with any Cat race, the Cat would pull something and a short loss would occur……now was the time to listen close….see if one of the youngsters were learning their lessons well enough to beat the ole pros at finding the Shorttail.
While Glen had found a small track in the road at the strike, this turned out to be a Big Tom away from home. When Jewel found him, Home was where he headed. While the Pack held pressure on him, this old boy kept moving to get back to the country he knew the best. After traveling close to three miles, he settled down about 250 yards to 400 yards deep off the road and ducked and dodged for thirty minutes in maybe 10 acres. This ducking and dodging was just what Glen’s female Hounds like the best. While Lou is getting some age on her, she can hold her own in this style race, this time she was leading the pack, heading right to us when she went from barking every breath running the Cat to Chopping every breath Treeing the Cat.
Glen had just jokingly told his Dad that it was sure thick where the Hounds were grabbing at the Cat. He said that he was glad his Dad owned the Tree Dogs. No sooner had he said this than Lou did her thing. Mr. Bud then said to Glen “OH OH whose Hound is that”? Glen responded that the Garmin showed the tree to be only 350 yards away and they might have a small creek to walk up where it was not so thick. He said lets dig out the Paintball gun and go “Color his World”.
Dad and I waited at the truck while they walked into the tree. Now 350 yards does not take long to cover down the road, but it took them 20 minutes to get there, it was just that thick.
The Cat was high up a big oak tree. The paintballs were losing their umpfh when they hit the Cat, but several made him jump, sailing out like a Flying Squirrel. He hit the ground with a thump and left for the “Nearest Faraway Place”. That would have been a good idea but 18 Clay Hounds had other plans. Now most Cat do not last long after being jumped out before being stretched or going back up.
Not this big Tom!
For the next 35 minutes he never left 5 acres of small Pines completely over grown in Briars, or got further than 200 yards from the truck. While Dad had enjoyed the 1st hour of the race, he literally soaked up this Intense last half hour.
The Opry was at its finest! The Orchestra/Pack was never off key or hit a sour note. The Brass section dominated with the Bitches screaming trying to drown out ole Dan’s bass. Copper, Clint and Rebel were patrolling the fringes of the race, coming out to the road when the race came close to it, hoping to whack the Cat if he tried to slip out. (This "Swinging" style of Hound is cussed and culled in some regions, but in the South East if you do not have 1 or 2 in your Pack, you will miss finishing lots of Races).
You could feel a Crescendo start at about 28 minutes into this last part of the race. But it just kept building & building until Finite….that silence where you are wondering what, why, how….is he up or down? The seconds ticked away…they became minutes! Then Dan threw out what the Coon Hunters would call a “Locate”. Tick tick went the clock. Then both Dan and Lou start to tree hard.
Glen and his Dad slowly made their way through the thick mess 70 yards to this tree. The Cat is not so high this time but he is even less inclined to leave the safety of the tree. I sure could not blame him! There were 18 Hounds surrounding the tree waiting to end his predatory career! But out he came and after a 10 minute fight Glen had caught his largest Bobcat yet, a 34 lb Tom in the prime of his life!
After bringing the Cat out and blowing his truck horn several times we loaded all the Hounds, weighed the Cat and had a Kodak moment or two. We then climbed aboard the truck and not gone a half a mile when it started to rain....soon the bottom fell out of the clouds.
The Bobcat Hunting Gods had indeed blessed us this night!
Thus ended another Saga in the eternal struggle of Man & Hound vs Bobcat.
Poon, Vacathunter and several others have been having good luck on the Eastern Seaboard. Even ole Perk and a friend had their good Fox Hounds trash on a 32# Tom this weekend.
Friday night 1-11-13 Glen Rybard’s nice Pack of Hounds ended the Rabbit and Deer killing career of a Huge Tom Cat.
A similar size Bobcat from a few years back with remainder of one of three Deer kills close by.
It took 10 Cat Hounds with help from 4 apprentice Cat Hounds (these were coming two to three year olds) and the participation of 4 Yearling Cat Hounds; 30 minutes of hard work Cold trailing, and 1 hour and 45 minutes of intense running to get-er-done.
If you have some time, grab a seat on one of those stumps here by the campfire and I’ll try to tell you about the hunt.
Dad has been cooped up in the house since we got back from Florida in mid-December and wanted to see how Glen Rybard’s young Hounds were doing (as you remember Glen is Dad’s young Protégé having 20 Clay Hounds). We had been having a Major Weather event with lots of rain and snow. There was more coming in late Friday night so it was decided to try and slip in a Hunt before it hit.
Now Ole Glen and his Dad have been having typical Bobcat Hunters luck since the Deer Hunters have thinned out enough to where they can run their Hounds without offending someone. They had Caught and Treed more than a handful but had also had about that many trips when either the Cats were not moving or they had been feeding sorry Hounds (here a 10mph EAST wind can make the Best Hounds appear Sorry).
Glen lives about 65 miles Southeast of us so after an hours trip we arrived at his Dog Pens about 4:30 PM Friday. We were headed to the Hunting grounds shortly thereafter. By 5:30 we were roading 9 Hounds, emptying them out with the other 9 to follow. By 6 we were rigging.
About 6:30 while roading Hounds we ran into the areas resident Coyote Hunter also heading into the Woods to run his Hounds. This fellow is very good friends with Dewey Walton’s Cousin, Teddy Dale Walton (bet lots of you did not know that the real secret to Dewey’s successes is his Arky Roots). We visited a few minutes then headed to opposite sides of this 100 sq. mile block.
Along about 7 PM Rebel announced from the top of the Box that a Bobcat had come out on the logging road we were driving on. This was a different bark from the ones he and Bandit had been making telling us about the Scat piles and Scent Posts that we had driven past (Glen is Houndsman enough to know his Hounds…..when they speak, what it means). This was a Cat that the Hounds should have left the truck trailing fast…..NOT.
That darn EAST wind made an easy Track very difficult. Good Hounds were struggling to advance the Track. Lou, Copper, Jewel and Bigboy worked hard and with Rebel and Bandit advanced the Track to where they had the Cat moving (Cats in this country are hassled regularly by Deer Hounds so will sometimes sit and wait to see if the Hounds are after them, then pull a Bobcat trick or two and easily evade those Deer Hounds). This Cat moved several hundred yards through a 10 year old clear cut, then into a hardwood creek bottom. There he either climbed a tree, ducked into an Armadillo hole, or called the Star Ship Enterprise and had ole Scotty BEAM him up, as the Track just ended.
The Cat was not jumped but was moving and did whatever he did because he wanted to; it sure was not being pressured. There could have been an old log pile being used as a Den in the SMZ from when the logging took place. We had found a Big Tom track and a smaller Sow’s track. If we had been trailing the Sow she had probably had fed around and headed home (in this country, especially this time of the year a Sow will use a Den more often than not; whereas an ole Tom will stop to sleep and rest where ever the notion strikes him) When things went quiet, and the Garmin showed that the Hounds were starting back to the truck after having looked hard for the Cat, Glen blew the truck horn and loaded the Hounds to go find another Cat.
By 9:30 we had played this same scenario out two more times. The Wind had come up even more right out of the East. The third Cat was darn near jumped when it came out into the road and just EVAPORATED! These climatic conditions are frustrating to the Hounds and Hunter alike. Dad and Glen talked about it, Glen pulled up the Weather Radar on his phone (ain’t technology wonderful) and saw that bad weather was on the way. We decided to work our way out of the woods and head home.
As we were driving we saw that the wind had suddenly changed to the NW as the Storm approached closer. The Garmin had shown that 11 pm to 1 am was going to be a prime Game movement time so we took the long way out of the Club hoping that the Cat Hunting Gods might bless us with a 4th chance for Dad to hear Glen’s Hounds go about their business. Well once again the Garmin was “right on” as at 11:05 Bigboy and Rebel again announced another Cat was out and about.
The Hounds trailed out of the road to the South for several hundred yards. Copper’s clear ringing Tenor followed by Dan’s Bass and Lou & Jewel’s Sopranos were telling us that while this was just a decent track they could sure smell better than earlier. The Cat had fed back to the road, crossed to the North and headed into a 5 to 6 year old Clear-cut according to what the Hounds were telling us. The Track moved into an area that probably had snow damaged downed and bent over Pine trees from the week before.
The Hounds were telling us that the Cat’s smell was harder to find. Ole Lou continued to hammer on the Track. Copper, Clint and Rebel were reaching out trying to find the Cat slipping out of the downed damaged trees. But Jewel who is just a little smarter than the others (a Special Hound in our ranking system) found where the Cat was squatting hoping that these were Deer Hounds and that they would pass him by. With her crisp, fast chop she was telling us and the Pack that she had the Cat up and running in front of her!
Folks the Arky version of the Cat Hound Opry had commenced!
For the next hour and ten minutes the Hounds voices were a ROAR as the race ebbed and flowed to the road where we were listening (darn these Garmin’s are great you can always be right where you need to be). At times no one Hound's mouth could be picked out it was so loud. But like with any Cat race, the Cat would pull something and a short loss would occur……now was the time to listen close….see if one of the youngsters were learning their lessons well enough to beat the ole pros at finding the Shorttail.
While Glen had found a small track in the road at the strike, this turned out to be a Big Tom away from home. When Jewel found him, Home was where he headed. While the Pack held pressure on him, this old boy kept moving to get back to the country he knew the best. After traveling close to three miles, he settled down about 250 yards to 400 yards deep off the road and ducked and dodged for thirty minutes in maybe 10 acres. This ducking and dodging was just what Glen’s female Hounds like the best. While Lou is getting some age on her, she can hold her own in this style race, this time she was leading the pack, heading right to us when she went from barking every breath running the Cat to Chopping every breath Treeing the Cat.
Glen had just jokingly told his Dad that it was sure thick where the Hounds were grabbing at the Cat. He said that he was glad his Dad owned the Tree Dogs. No sooner had he said this than Lou did her thing. Mr. Bud then said to Glen “OH OH whose Hound is that”? Glen responded that the Garmin showed the tree to be only 350 yards away and they might have a small creek to walk up where it was not so thick. He said lets dig out the Paintball gun and go “Color his World”.
Dad and I waited at the truck while they walked into the tree. Now 350 yards does not take long to cover down the road, but it took them 20 minutes to get there, it was just that thick.
The Cat was high up a big oak tree. The paintballs were losing their umpfh when they hit the Cat, but several made him jump, sailing out like a Flying Squirrel. He hit the ground with a thump and left for the “Nearest Faraway Place”. That would have been a good idea but 18 Clay Hounds had other plans. Now most Cat do not last long after being jumped out before being stretched or going back up.
Not this big Tom!
For the next 35 minutes he never left 5 acres of small Pines completely over grown in Briars, or got further than 200 yards from the truck. While Dad had enjoyed the 1st hour of the race, he literally soaked up this Intense last half hour.
The Opry was at its finest! The Orchestra/Pack was never off key or hit a sour note. The Brass section dominated with the Bitches screaming trying to drown out ole Dan’s bass. Copper, Clint and Rebel were patrolling the fringes of the race, coming out to the road when the race came close to it, hoping to whack the Cat if he tried to slip out. (This "Swinging" style of Hound is cussed and culled in some regions, but in the South East if you do not have 1 or 2 in your Pack, you will miss finishing lots of Races).
You could feel a Crescendo start at about 28 minutes into this last part of the race. But it just kept building & building until Finite….that silence where you are wondering what, why, how….is he up or down? The seconds ticked away…they became minutes! Then Dan threw out what the Coon Hunters would call a “Locate”. Tick tick went the clock. Then both Dan and Lou start to tree hard.
Glen and his Dad slowly made their way through the thick mess 70 yards to this tree. The Cat is not so high this time but he is even less inclined to leave the safety of the tree. I sure could not blame him! There were 18 Hounds surrounding the tree waiting to end his predatory career! But out he came and after a 10 minute fight Glen had caught his largest Bobcat yet, a 34 lb Tom in the prime of his life!
After bringing the Cat out and blowing his truck horn several times we loaded all the Hounds, weighed the Cat and had a Kodak moment or two. We then climbed aboard the truck and not gone a half a mile when it started to rain....soon the bottom fell out of the clouds.
The Bobcat Hunting Gods had indeed blessed us this night!
Thus ended another Saga in the eternal struggle of Man & Hound vs Bobcat.
do you think the last 10 can even smell cat?