A Gang Of Dogs
Bear Hunting is fun, but not as fun unless you break out into a sweat. Me and four others went up a ridge with those fifteen dogs, some on leads and others following along and I got it. I poured the sweat. Some others we hunt with had struck a Bear and got a race on. They had together nine dogs on it and we were listening to them on the radio. We had split apart, going either direction on the ridge. Me and a teenage boy were walking in a box shape track down the ridge. The boy’s that went the other way packed onto the race with permission from the others. I heard them over the radio saying a light skinned Plott male was coming down the mountain getting into a fight with every dog. The boy was about on the Bear and the dogs (Plotts themselves) were fighting the Light skinned Plott. My party didn’t have a Plott other than mine, Squeaky, and a two half Plott females, Princess and Hell Cat. The race broke apart, the boy’s lost the Bear. As for the ones that had packed onto the race they ran across some hog tracks about the time the race broke and lost it. From what we can best gather. The fog of Bear Hunting.
After a ways I let Bell of the lead. She’s living up to her name now. She stayed with us, didn’t stray far. All the girl dogs get along, the boy’s want to have a pissing contest. If a tree got pissed on once, it got pissed on twice. It kind of slows things down. Squeaky either tossed his cookies or shit in the box. Me and that boy got down to my truck and everyone was gone. We threw his big Walker Hound in the box and it wanted it to it’s self. Me and him had six dogs. Darn they’re hollering…BRB…Well, fourteen months old she is like a teenage girl, yap yap yap. Barking to hear herself…We put a Kemmer in the box with him and he went all over it. We had to pull the cur out. Fortunately, the others had came back from catching the dogs before we left out with them. We had Squeaky and a Kemmer up on the box, they were fine. Bell was fine with the two others in the box with her. I was trying to find what to do with Patch, the Bull Dog, when the others arrived. Heck, must have been the moon, Mikes Dogs had got into it in the box that morning. Any way, shit or puke, that big Walker had cleaned it all up for Squeaky…Or me. I've got video of Squeaky being rigged on the dog box, if you know how to convert Quick Time to something other holler at me. Please.
Squeaky had gotten excited over a set of hog tracks, but the boy’s Walker didn’t get so excited. Squeaky howled trying to instigate the others. But, the young Dogs didn’t get it. Squeaky is real cold nosed. He can pick a track, but it was too old. We didn’t let him go. I pulled him off of the track. One of my ankles…Bell is in full cry here in the yard…One of my ankles was sore Sunday morning. Being tugged by two strong hounds down the mountain, in a White Pine grove, where the woods are open but dead pine limbs are slick plus the rocks made for a rough walk. The teenager with me plays ball and has to wrap his ankles for games. I know he was sore too. I got over it quick walking around the house after I got up. Sunday I walked a little known section of game lands. It ain’t a bad country. I got a fire going tonight, first one in about a year and a half.
So, that is Bear Hunting for your week of October 29, 2007