You exit with coon canines a dozen occasions, or perhaps 100 occasions, and the outcomes are simply so-so. Certain, you’ve got enjoyable. You strike coons and also you chase them. You tree one 10 minutes after you place the canines down. Or perhaps you shoot 5 out of a single tree. By midnight you’ve had sufficient, so that you stop and go house. However none of that’s fairly what you’re in search of.
The coon chase you hanker for is a kind of old-time, tail-twisting, half-the-night affairs, when the canines get on the monitor of a buster with the brains of a fox, the grit of a badger, and the endurance of a wildcat. One which is aware of higher than to tree till he has to, and might consider loads of methods of placing it off till the final minute. Coon hunts like which are few and much between.
The very best chase I ever had lasted from midnight till an hour earlier than dawn. Three of us tramped endlessly behind good canines earlier than we struck a monitor, nevertheless it was value it. The coon was an previous boar, sensible and hard, and the hounds drove him throughout half a township, on and off rail fences, over grapevine tangles, down ditches, and out and in of drain tiles, whereas we clawed by means of brush, slogged in mud, and walked our legs right down to stumps. They treed him lastly, and we completed him, however we needed to take turns lugging that bjg, autumn-fat carcass 4 lengthy, weary miles again to the automobile.
That was a very long time in the past. I’ve had my share of some good chases since then, nevertheless it wasn’t till final fall, in Michigan, that I obtained the form of hunt I’d been dreaming about for 5 or 6 years.
It had a commonplace starting. I bumped into my neighbor, Don Van Deusen, on the town on a moist November afternoon when the sky was the colour of previous pewter and rain was falling in a chilly drizzle.
“Need to go coon looking tonight?” he requested.
That’s a inventory query in our a part of the nation at that season of 12 months, nevertheless it stunned me coming from Don, for he doesn’t personal coon canines. He lives in a positive previous home his grandfather constructed proper after the Civil Conflict, retains a rabbit hound or two, and does a little bit fox looking. As far as I knew, coon looking wasn’t on his record. However earlier than I might ask any questions he went on to clarify.
For those who’ve ever listened to a duet of that sort, ringing by means of the darkness of a foggy autumn night time, you already know the spell it weaves. For those who haven’t I can’t let you know.
“Coons have been elevating hob in my corn all fall,” he stated. “I believed they’d stop after it was reduce, however they’re worse. You’d suppose a drove of hogs was working it. I need to skinny them out. John Sexton is coming over from Pontiac tonight. He’s obtained good canines, and I believed perhaps you’d like to return. He’ll be alongside proper after supper.”
“I gained’t hold you ready,” I promised.
The rain stopped at nightfall and the wind died, and with the early darkish got here a skinny fog that lay in a ghostly blanket on the hills. As I drove over to Don’s place the moist roadside brush shone like diamonds within the automobile’s headlights, and within the woods there was the sluggish and damaged patter of water dripping from the oaks and beeches. I reminded myself that coons depart their dens early on such nights, I and prowl till daybreak. The damp grass and weeds maintain scent for hours, and the voices of the canines are a hole, lonesome sound — sufficient to relax a person’s blood.
I used to be at Don’s home forward of time. Sexton drove into the yard a couple of minutes later and Don launched us. Two canines bounded down when John opened the automobile door, an enormous, rangy redbone and a black and tan that was solely a little bit smaller.
“Glad you introduced Pluto,” stated Don to John, indicating the redbone. Then he jerked his thumb on the smaller hound. “This one new? By no means noticed him earlier than.”
John nodded. “Yeah, that’s Wheeler, Pluto’s son. I’m simply beginning him this fall.”
“Seems to be straight black and tan,” I steered.
“Takes after his ma,” Sexton defined. “If he seems nearly as good as she was he’ll be fairly a canine.”
“How’s he doing thus far?” Don requested.
“He doesn’t rightly know what he’s after or the best way to discover it but,” John admitted. “However he’ll be taught. He wants chase or two and a pair or coon fights to take skunks and possums and rabbits out of his head.”
“Perhaps we are able to repair him up tonight,” Don stated. “One of many coons working down in my corn is as huge as a bear, judging from the harm.”
“A hoop-tailed peeler, eh?” Sexton mused. “I positive hope we hit his monitor. Pluto has simply the drugs for th.at sort, and it’d do the pup plenty of good. Hope they will catch him on the bottom.”
“That’s so much to ask,” I put in.
“It’s,” John agreed, “however I’ve seen it occur.”
The canines streaked by means of the fence round Don’s cornfield and disappeared within the darkness. A giant tamarack swamp lay past the corn, and the shocks alongside its border regarded as if a twister had struck them. They’d been ripped aside, and half-eaten ears had been strewn an round. However the canines couldn’t discover a monitor.
“The coons should have adjourned their conference,” John stated whereas we waited on the fringe of the swamp.
The pup reported in lastly, however Pluto stayed out within the swamp. We moved on, crossed the highway under Don’s home, and headed for a second cornfield. We had been not more than over the fence when the younger canine struck, shouting a pointy observe of discovery. He talked in damaged syllables, as if not fairly positive of what he’d discovered, after which we heard Pluto pound throughout the highway behind us and go barreling by means of the cornfield.
“We’ll know for positive now,” John stated quietly. On the heels of his phrases the older canine sang a protracted, rolling bugle observe, and we knew.
Pluto’s voice is a bass that begins again across the roots of his tail and comes out full-throated and deep. That coon monitor was as chilly and off as yesterday’s flapjacks, and it was a pleasure to listen to him deliver it up throughout the sphere, affected person and positive, feeling his approach, bawling every time he discovered one thing value mentioning. Wheeler sang baritone, whooping it out like a steam calliope. For those who’ve ever listened to a duet of that sort, ringing by means of the darkness of a foggy autumn night time, you already know the spell it weaves. For those who haven’t I can’t let you know.
On the higher finish of the sphere they ran south and down within the bogs. Pluto lastly discovered what he was in search of, a ribbon of coon scent that smoked in his nostril. He went into overdrive instantly, and his tune modified to an keen baying that rose and fell like a pulse beat. Wheeler pulled out a few stops and sailed in to maintain him firm, they usually actually stirred up the echoes.
“That’s extra prefer it,” John yelled exultantly. “That coon’s going locations now.”
“Extra probably heading for a den tree,” Don replied. “There’s huge timber over that approach.”
However wherever the coon’s den was, he wasn’t able to make for it but. He’d in all probability discovered from expertise {that a} tree isn’t any positive haven. It’s widespread apply amongst native hunters, coaching their canines earlier than the season opens, to tree an enormous coon, maintain the canines, shake him down, give him a five-minute begin, and switch the canines free once more. When that has occurred a couple of occasions to a tricky previous boar it’s subsequent to inconceivable to tree him, and this fellow apparently had been by means of the mill.
For a minute the canines can be on prime, flailing, clawing. Then they’d all go underneath. As usually as a canine broke free and got here up for air the coon can be onto him, snarling, raging, using his head and neck, shoving him down.
The canines drove him east virtually a mile whereas we did a marathon over hills, down ravines, throughout fences, working, panting, and stumbling. It was all we might do to maintain them in listening to. They couldn’t have been greater than a few minutes behind when the coon turned again our approach, working west on a large circle with the canines at his heels.
“He’ll go up now,” Sexton predicted after we halted for a minute at a fence. “He can’t stand that tempo for much longer.”
However the coon had different concepts. Off to the north the canines stopped barking as abruptly as if anyone had flipped a change, and for a minute the night time was as nonetheless as a grave. Then Pluto rapped out a gruff announcement in a brand new tempo, and we had been on the run once more. There was one thing flawed, although. The previous canine’s tree bark wasn’t pressing sufficient. He’d chop three or 4 occasions after which there’d be a protracted, puzzled wait.
We discovered the canines sloshing round in the midst of an enormous pond grown thick with button bush. They’d treed the coon, all proper, however he hadn’t stayed put. He’d gone up and traveled overhead, the best way a monkey goes by means of treetops, and the canines had fallen for it. By now the coon was working once more towards no matter place of security he had in thoughts. That’s probably the greatest methods within the ebook, and while you see it pulled you already know your coon isn’t any newbie.
We didn’t must name the canines, for almost the time we reached the pond Pluto determined he was barking up empty branches. He splashed out and went wheeling across the pond, and on the far aspect he hit the monitor once more and opened like a pipe organ. Wheeler caught on quick, and wasn’t greater than three jumps and two yelps behind.
The coon had gained a little bit time, nevertheless it didn’t do him a lot good. The canines drove him full tilt again by means of Don’s cornfield, and simply past it John obtained what he had wished for. The rolling duet of the lengthy chase broke out of the blue and become an offended uproar. Then the unmistakable sounds of a struggle floated again to us.
“They’ve caught him within the creek,” Don shouted. “He’ll drown certainly one of ’em for positive.”
“That’s robust,” John shot again. “If two canines can’t deal with one coon they oughta drown.” However he was working for the creek like loopy when he stated it.
Illustration by John Gould / Out of doors Life
We sprinted throughout the muddy area and down by means of a slim tongue of swamp and marsh, the fretting of the canines goading us each step. The final 50 yards we might hear the cruel, grating snarls of the coon mingled with the chopping and growling of, the canines. Once we reached the scene it was laborious to say whether or not they had him within the creek or he had them. They had been over by the far financial institution, in quick water that will attain above a person’s knees, they usually had been a splashing, tearing pinwheel of canines and coon.
For a minute the canines can be on prime, flailing, clawing. Then they’d all go underneath. As usually as a canine broke free and got here up for air the coon can be onto him, snarling, raging, using his head and neck, shoving him down. Every time that occurred the opposite canine would seize the coon by the rear and drag him off, and the three of them would go spherical and spherical once more.
“Higher get in there with a membership and bust that up,” Don warned John. “You’re gonna lose a canine.”
John refused to get excited. “Allow them to rassle awhile,” he stated. “That is simply what Wheeler wants. Nothing makes a coonhound out of younger canine faster than mix-up.”
Three or 4 minutes later, nonetheless, it was evident the coon was standing the brawl higher than the canines.
”They’ll get the worst of it,” Don warned once more.
John handed me the .22 he was carrying, pulled up his rubber boots, and slid into the creek. Midway throughout he stepped right into a gap and went right down to his hip pockets within the chilly water. He pulled himself out, puffing and blowing, and wallowed again to shore on our aspect.
“Hand me that rifle,” he grunted. “I anticipate we’ve had about sufficient of this.”
Proper then the noise of battle died away, and after we flashed our lights on the far financial institution the coon was nowhere to be seen. He’d out of the blue damaged away, scrambled up an overhanging tangle of brush and grapevines, and vamoosed.
Wheeler had had all of the coon he craved for some time. He swam throughout to us and crawled out, half drowned and worn to a frazzle. Pluto clambered up the other financial institution and commenced sniffing round for coon scent that wasn’t there. We knew what had occurred. As soon as away from the canines, the coon had slipped again into the water and vanished down the creek. A mink couldn’t have made a slicker get-away.
It appeared just like the end to probably the greatest chases I had ever had, and Don and I had been fairly glum about it. However not John.
“There goes about 4 bucks’ value of coon — pelt, meat, and all,” he introduced cheerfully. “So what? We’ll simply cost it off to Wheeler’s baptism.”
He sat down on the financial institution to dump the water from his boots and wring out his socks, after which we heard Pluto slip again into the creek.
“Properly, the darned idiot,” John exclaimed. “He doesn’t know sufficient to surrender. He may make it repay too.”
He did. A couple of minutes later he bawled phrase of a discover about 200 yards downstream. He’d discovered the spot the place the coon had left the water and had picked up its tracks. Wheeler instantly determined he wasn’t too drained, in any case, and tore off within the course of Pluto’s howling. We waited on the fringe of the cornfield. They headed our approach. Immediately Don cupped a hand to his ear.
“Hear that?” he requested. John and I heard nothing however the canines.
“One thing climbed that tree down by the creek,” Don insisted. “I heard it scratch bark because it went up.”
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The canines got here on, straight to an enormous oak. Pluto tapped it, acknowledged his discover with a hoarse bark, and went on to ensure. He circled out by means of the corn, checking as a coon canine ought to, and got here again to the tree satisfied. He sniffed the trunk once more, upreared towards it, and virtually shook the bottom together with his chesty baying.
“That’s it,” stated John. “That previous potlicker doesn’t know the best way to lie at a tree.”
We weren’t fairly by means of but, although. The oak was hung with lifeless leaves and glowing with huge drops of water, and we couldn’t discover the coon. So John lastly strapped the rifle on his again, shinned up the tree, and noticed him in a leafy fork on the very prime. One shot introduced him down.
This story, “Wheeler’s Baptism,” appeared within the October 1954 concern of Out of doors Life.
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