I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend. (J.R.R.Tolkien, The Two Towers)

When I carry a gun, I don't do so because I am looking for a fight, but because I'm looking to be left alone. The gun at my side means that I cannot be forced, only persuaded. I don't carry it because I'm afraid, but because it enables me to be unafraid. It doesn't limit the actions of those who would interact with me through reason, only the actions of those who would do so by force.

Marko Kloos "Why the Gun is Civilization"

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Little Dog Lost

Today was the opening day of rifle season. I did manage to get into the woods and on my stand before daylight this time. Since it was a balmy 17 degrees I was wearing several layers of clothing. Around noon, I walked back to the truck for a cup of hot coffee and shed some of the now unneeded clothing. On the way back to my stand, I met the coonhound pictured above.

Coon hunters are a little strange to begin with but one who runs his dogs the night before opening day of rifle season is way out in left field. I tried to shoo said coonhound on towards the road and he did go for a ways but soon was back on my heels following me. Getting lost is part of coon hunting, so all dogs come equipped from the factory with a collar inscribed with the owner's name, address, and phone number. Using my cell phone I notified the owner that he could find his dog tied to my truck.

After waiting for about 30 minutes, I decided to go back into the woods and continue to hunt. Now the coonhound had other ideas and wasn't about let his new human just walk off. So he started baying in that deep rich coonhound voice that carries for miles. My stand was about a mile down the ridge and I could hear him all the way. Just before I got to my evening stand, he stopped so I figured his owner had shown up and claimed him. About 5 minutes later, I heard what sounded like a deer running through the leaves behind me and then felt a very cold wet nose on the side of my neck. I said a few very choice words to the owner of the wet nose and he got the idea right away. But still not about to let go of his new human he ran off about 20 yards and lay down behind the log in the picture. If you look slightly left of center and underneath the log you can just see him curled up in the leaves.
Now one thing you can be sure of is that coonhounds and hunting from a stand don't go together, so after a few minutes I gave up, called his owner again, and walked him back to the truck and waited for said owner to show up. Since I had walked about 4 miles already today I decided that it was nap time so I went home and took one.

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At 10:07 PM, Blogger madcapmum said...

Hi Harold!

This post reminds of a great book by Farley Mowat, called "The Dog Who Wouldn't Be". I think you'd probably enjoy it if haven't already. Lots about hunting and this crazy dog of theirs.

At 3:56 PM, Blogger Sgt. B. said...

Y'know... You may not have gotten your deer, but you showed your soft side for a lost pooch.
Now, admit it, izzint a cold wet nose from a new friend better than shootin' a dumb ol' deer?
(Okay, maybe not, but it's a cute story, and ya got a deer anyway, right?)


At 7:00 PM, Blogger H. Stallard said...

It's not about winning or losing, getting a deer or not, what really matters is how you play the game.


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