As we pulled up to check a bait, the wheels of the trucked squealed to a halt. The truck doors slammed, and the dog box began to whine in unison. They wanted out. They wanted to work. The bait looked good, so we dropped the tail gate, and opened the box, to let the 2 best cold tracking dogs out. Noses to the ground, they canvassed the area. Zig zagging back and forth, working the track. Their circle grew wider, branching off the bait bucket, and into the trees. Leaves crunched, sticks broke. They were off. After a few minutes of silence, and wondering if something would get going, they struck. That bawl shook the forest. It cut through the foggy mountain air so sharp, it sounded like it was right in my ear. The entire box blew up…loud enough to shake the dew from the tree limbs. We were off the to the races.
At that moment, that sound resonated deep within me, and I knew I was going to be in trouble. Not because of what was on the other end of that track, but because I knew I’d get addicted to that sound…and I was right.
Three years later, there hasn’t been a time in the woods that gets my heart pumping, more than bear hunting with hounds does. It’s become a passion, an obsession. I was originally so hesitant about it, thinking I’d do it once and get it out of my system. But now, it’s something I can’t get enough of.
The relationship between dog and handler…knowing each dog’s strength and each one’s weakness…understanding the difference in each tone that each dog lets out…it’s just an experience like no other. Watching the dogs work, watching them do what comes natural, and what they were born to do is such an incredible thing to behold.
There’s lots of ups and downs hunting with hounds. Not every chase is a win. Sometimes you run for hours…over mountains, through rivers, across highways…and just when you think its gonna end, the bear turns into a ghost…those are the breaks. The highest highs, and the lowest lows. But the bear’s gotta win sometimes, or else it wouldn’t really be fair chase, would it?
In all my time in the woods, I’ve yet to find something as intoxicating as hound hunting. The primal relationship between man and beast that’s gone back thousands of years…it’s still alive and well in these woods. Three years later, and I sit here with 2 hounds of my own now…something I never thought would happen. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the time to be an actual “houndsman”, but I do know, putting in endless hours to get these dogs trained is worth every second. Watching them go from a goofy, big eared puppy, to a cold tracking, treeing, bawling, mature dog has been one of the most rewarding parts of my time in the outdoors with them.
This type of pursuit of game isn’t for the faint of heart…and it may not be for everyone…but if you ever get the opportunity, before you judge, run hounds, and see the work that goes in to one of the most time honored traditions in the hunting community.
Black Dirt Diaries 