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Post by tar12 on Dec 25, 2008 23:04:21 GMT -5
The kids had not been out coon hunting for a long while.They kept on bugging me.I called up my old hunting buddy to see if he wanted to turn his old potlicker loose.He said he would be here at 7:00 pm.I told the kids and they flipped out!This was the first decent night since the single digit weather of a few days ago.They were running good! We sacked up 4 in about 2 hours. Following are some pics.   |
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Post by ozark on Dec 26, 2008 15:35:01 GMT -5
Now, this is what makes me get high. Deer and turkey hunting is ok. Taking a coyote using a call is good sport. But to hear old Rowdy send the message that he is on a trail, listen carefully as he works to get the track lined out and then hear that location bawl followed by that machine gun chop that saya: "I've done my part, come and help finish the job." And to have your youngsters along to share it is the icing on the cake.Thanks a bunch. Ben.
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Post by tar12 on Dec 26, 2008 16:24:19 GMT -5
I feel the same way Ben.We get precious little time to go anymore.I really enjoy a finished hound.The one in the picture is as good as any of them get.He is deadly accurate.On this particular tree this coon had bailed on him and tried to make a run for its den,he did not make it. ;D Up until 4 years ago me and the kids spent alot of time following my hounds.We have alot of special memories.I will share one.We went one night with a buddy of mine.I turned Katy loose down a creek bottom.It was not long before that long mournful locating bawl filled the air.We went to her and she had a exceptionally large boar treed on a creek bank.My son wanted to shoot it out and I let him have at it.My buddy gets up close to the tree.To close I tell him.He says he will be alright.Well "Q" let one fly and stung that coons front foot.Thats all it took for that big ole boar coon to bail out of that tree like a flying squirrel.Where was my buddy that I had warned about standing to close?Right in that coons flight path!My buddy went down backwards screaming like a girl with that coon landing right between his legs!LOL! ;D Katy broke her leash at the shot and you know what she did,she piled right in there! ;D
So we had a man down with a dog and coon in his lap!I could not tell at first who was bawling and who was squalling as all of this was going on as my buddy was back peddling on his rump down that creek! ;D ;D The only thing that saved him was he back peddled into a hole in the creek and the dog and coon floated over him.LOL! Both of my kids were there to witness this!We all laugh to this day about that night! My buddy does to!He now keeps his distance!LOL!
BTW,Katy got the coon..
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Post by ozark on Dec 26, 2008 17:36:40 GMT -5
I enjoyed reading about that hunt. I could start describing coonhunts and not run out of material for days. My biggest joy was taking a promising pup and see it develop into a finished hound. I have owned many hounds that would tree a coon but few that I would class as a top cooner. I had one walker female I finished out that if she barked once you could bet a hundred bucks it was coon scent. If she barked twice you could bet another hundred she would tree it or put it under ground. She was good around water, in the bluffs, on a cold trail and in all kinds of weather. I will hush for now but all my memories are worth a million to me now. I would immediately know the voice of hounds I hunted fifty or sixty years ago. We still have a few diehard coonhunter in this area. I am so glad that your children are enjoying things with you. Thanks for sharing. Ben
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petev
Eight Pointer
Posts: 248
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Post by petev on Dec 26, 2008 19:29:39 GMT -5
Fascinating reading for someone who hasn't done it (yet). Pete
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Post by ozark on Dec 26, 2008 20:30:40 GMT -5
Pete, going would probably be interesting but in this sport having your own dog in the race is where the real pleasure is found. Because the owner knows the voice of his dog and from that voice determine what is happening out there in the dark, Dogs give one voice when the trail is worrysome. A different voice when the scent is old and difficult. There is a voice when the dog reaches an obstacke like a river or fence. Another when the trail is easily followed and still another when the track is temporarily lost. Sometimes the raccoon will climb a few yards up a tree to determine the degree of danger only to climb down and travel on. When a dog reached this "Marked tree" they sometimes just settle on a blank thee. The finished dog will seek a track leaving such a tree and continue until he presses the coon up a tree that he has to stay in or be caught. The dog then settles into a tree barking routine that its owner knows well. My main point it is like watching a football game without any idea of what the players are trying to do until you get the contest between the hound and the coon firmly entrenched in you book of knowledge. The coonhunter may say: LIsten to that beautiful music and the first time hunter might respond that he can't hear nothing except those darn dogs barking. Anyway, to the coon hunter it is absolutely great sport. Ben
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Post by tar12 on Dec 27, 2008 3:30:07 GMT -5
You are absolutely correct Ozark.Once you have followed hounds for a number of years as we have,every little peep that dog makes tells us something.We went out tonight as well and got 19.It was one of the best nights I have had in years."Lincoln" my buddies dog,could do no wrong this evening.He treed several doubles.The rut is on."Q" had to quit at 12:00 am.TarBaby and I quit at 3:00 am because our lights were running out of juice.We did not want to pack it in! ;D My daughter was fasicinated by how fast a coon could loose its hide! My buddy Bert can shuck one out every 90 seconds.He is that good.He has killed 206 to date with that ole potlicker of his.He gets plenty of practice!The hides are still prime and not rubbed.They should fetch top dollar.Of to sleepy land now......
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Post by youp50 on Jan 1, 2009 7:26:31 GMT -5
If you don't mind.....
Girl was as good as they come three quarter Black and Tan and quarter Bluetick. Many had said her blocky head looked like it belonged on a male dog. She would tree a coon easy enough, but our love was black bear.
We were cooning one night on an oak ridge that had seen some logging with the tops remaining as they fell and she caught a bear. The stayed in the cut area until the bear found a top that she could not get behind him and settled in. Bears have a reputation for charging a light, the same light on my head is how the thought process runs, at night 10 miles from nowhere and by yourself to boot.
So you load up your 22 auto to the max and go to pull the dog off the bear. No safety engaged and one up the pipe. I was almost ready to see the cause of the commotion and it hit me. The most scariest noise and feeling an adrenaline packed body can handle. That's right, I almost stepped on a Ruffed Grouse and it practically crawled up my chest, wings beating making his escape and completely overtaxing my adrenal glands.
Several minutes later I walked up and caught the dog, leaving the small bear none the worse for wear.
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Post by tar12 on Jan 1, 2009 8:26:00 GMT -5
Youp50,
I know that feeling when a quail or pheasant explodes at your feet.Couple that with a bear situation and you probally had to change your drawers! ;D ;D
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Post by wilmsmeyer on Jan 1, 2009 14:22:59 GMT -5
I accompanied a highschool friend, a farmer, one time on my only coon hunt.
I got off the school bus at his house and we were very excited to go out after dark. However, one of their cows gave birth way up in a feild....1/2 mile from the barn. His dad, him and me spent a few hours getting that situation taken care of. Then there was supper. THEN...we got his 2 coon dogs AND the family pet...a St Bernard out to hunt. The fun began.
The first coon was treed quick and my teenage friend let me take the first shot...30 ft up a tree. I leveled the .22 against a tree and aimed between the eyes and shot. The coon tumbled....dead...out of the tree. I thought "ok...this is easy." We got this one before the dogs had a chance to maul it.
The rest of the night involved a bunch of running, a bunch of shooting...and the realization that shooting a coon with a .22 is not that easy at night. The dogs ended up finishing many of the fights. The St Bernard was unbelieveable and loved it when the coons hit the ground. Like a grizzly bear after a prarie dog. RIP....TEAR...Done deal.....No chance of a sellable pelt.
The hunting was fun and the energy level needed was high. For teenage kids this was not a problem. Never did this before and haven't since.
The training of a dog and the fun of that has not been in my cards and probably never will.
The above stories and accounts by Tar and Ozark is some of the coolest reading I've seen in a long time. 2 guys who have awesome abilities to both hunt other things then deer and describe it so well.
Times in the woods, no matter the quarry, are priceless....they trump all the tech-no stuff every time. Just hunt and have experiences out there! Those memories are great and you 2 guys have a bunch of 'em!! Thanks for the good reading!
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petev
Eight Pointer
Posts: 248
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Post by petev on Jan 1, 2009 22:05:20 GMT -5
Haven't read such entertaining stories since reading a couple of Robert Ruark books years (30) ago!
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Post by tar12 on Jan 1, 2009 22:12:02 GMT -5
Haven't read such entertaining stories since reading a couple of Robert Ruark books years (30) ago! I would suspect between Qzark and I, we could keep you entertained for a long time... |
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Post by deadeye on Jan 1, 2009 22:16:19 GMT -5
tar 12,photos very much enjoyed,you sure raised them right,now for an advanced challenge in which i have done& succeeded,take a recurve & some flu-flu's coon hunting
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Post by tar12 on Jan 1, 2009 22:19:01 GMT -5
We went out again this evening and turned Lincoln loose twice and he treed 2 and we packed up and came home as "Q" has a tournament in the morning.Here is a pic of my buddy and his buddy..   |
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Post by tar12 on Jan 1, 2009 22:28:35 GMT -5
tar 12,photos very much enjoyed,you sure raised them right,now for an advanced challenge in which i have done& succeeded,take a recurve & some flu-flu's coon hunting I raised these kids the way I was raised,plenty of country sunshine.....They do not ask to go running around.They just want to know when they are going hunting next..and thats just the way I like it.. ;D |
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Post by ozark on Jan 1, 2009 23:02:04 GMT -5
There is a horseshoe bend in Little Red River. On one side of the river is a pasture for livestock and on the opposite side is wooded steep gullies, hills and bluffs. Hunting this river bend was a favorite area for me to hunt alone with Windy. Windy registered name was Boyd's Windsong. She was a beautiful Treeing walker that had all the traits a coonhunter disires. She had no quit in her, was straight on coon, had a beautiful bawl and chop on track and located with a lone lonesome bawl followed by a steady chop that told me she would be there until I got there or she starved out. But living along this stretch was a large boar coon that seemed to love to mess her up. It would swim the river or simply get in the water and swim downstream for a quarter mile before coming to shore. Windy learned to hate this coon because before climbing a tree it would go into a bluff where she couldn't follow. Often it would go up stream cross the ridge that caused the horseshoe bend in the river and back to the river. Many times it burned Windy and she got so its scent caused her to get angry. I could tell by her voice that she want its fur in her teeth. This went on all during the season and on into the spring and early summer. One summer evening I let her out of her box and she headed up the river bank looking for her enemy. Shortly she was afte him and her voice was telling me she hated his guts. Back and forth across the river the track took her as they turned the river bend and got to the place where it often crossed the ridge headed back to the river near the starting point. Windy was squalling with anger and trying to catch that coon on the ground. She got so close that it had to put its toe nails into the bark of a redoak.
When I got to the tree windy was slobbering and in dog language daring that coon to come down and fight her fair. The season was closed and I didn't have a rifle with me but I could not deny windy victory. I leached her to the tree and drove the two mile home and got my .22 rifle. Back at the tree I unleashed her and shot the coon out for her. The shot killed the coon instantly but Windy locked her jaws on its body and actually growled as she tried to crush bones. After she finally put him up a tree I just couldn't let her down. Law or no law. This was the end of long war between a dog and a wise old coon. Ozark
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Post by tar12 on Jan 2, 2009 5:55:29 GMT -5
Ben,
Only people who are truly houndsmen can fully appreciate your story.We had a arch enemy similiar to yours.We had unwittingly trained this coon to avoid dogs.The landowner let me use this piece of dog training heaven to start pups.I started many a puppy on this ground and in the process educated many a coon living there.There was one coon in particular that bears mentioning.He came to be known as the bobtail coon.More on that later.I had a 16 month old walker male that was the fastest track dog that I ever had the pleasure of turning loose.He was absolutley dead silent on track.He would catch many coons on the ground.The first time I turned "Slade" loose on this farm he threw his nose into the air and took off like greased lightning towards a large red oak den.I watched him rear up on that tree and check it and he took off due south towards the creek bottom.He was not gone 1 min. when the fight broke out.I hustled down there and he had a large boar coon caught in the middle of a small corn stubble patch on the ground.They were going at it! I could not get a shot off due to the coon spending time wrapped around Slades head! I was getting concerned as this was a large coon and this was pups first unassisted fight.This pup had no back up gear as I was soon to find out.I waded into that mess and landed a well placed boot and sent the coon flying.but it was all to no avail as Slade had him again quickly,only this time he had him high on the tail as was slinging him like mad.The coon came loose minus a large portion of his tail.
The bobtail coon legend was born.Unlike your ending Ben,to my knowledge this coon was never killed.We had many encounters with this coon with him winning.There was a old house on the property that had a dead elm tree leaning against it.This coon would use this as one of his escape routes.We tried to head him off there on several occasions.It got real personal.I wanted him dead! ;D After 2 seasons he was no more.I do not know what happened to him,but he sure provided hours of pleasure and frustration!
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Post by wilmsmeyer on Jan 2, 2009 5:58:38 GMT -5
There are times when "mountain law" prevails.
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Post by ozark on Jan 2, 2009 13:42:16 GMT -5
I believe Robert Ruark wrote of an experience that has not dimmed in the recesses of my brain during the many many years since I read it. I will attempt to tell the story as he did but naturally it will not be as good...
"I was raised mostly by my grandparents and it was from my Grandpa that I learned to love the great outdoors. I had reached my teen years and had learned to shoot, take game and was a good fisherman. But there were still lessons that I needed to learn before becoming a person that I could respect. One morning Grandma told me to do some chore that I wasn't wanting to do. When I resisted she insisted and it ended up with me sassing her and speaking to her in a unkind manner. Grandpa didn't get into the argument but I could see he was observing it all carefully. Shortly he said: "Son, I think it is time that you and I went fishing. I loved to fish and instantly become overjoyed at his suggestion. We dug some worms and walked the two miles to the river. He took me to a good spot and made sure I had some food Grandma had fixed for us. It was by now mid morning and I was fully content with the day. Grandpa said:"
Son, you fish here, I am going to go upstream and fish for awhile." As he picked up his gear and was leaving he said: "Son, while you fish, if you have time you might think some about how you sassed your granny this morning." The fish were biting good and I was thoroughly enjoying the day and watching the fish stringer get heavier and longer. The sun begin to set in the western sky and I found myself watching up stream hoping to see gramps returning. As it turned dark I imagined that perhaps he had drowned, had a heart attack. Would I ever see him again? His last words to me kept coming back over and over and I felt so very bad that I had sassed Grandma. I promised myself that I would never do that again. It was well after dark and I didn't know how I could find my way home. Finally, after many prayers and promises made to myself I seen the flickering of a flashlight coming down the river bank. I did not know that gramps had a light. It was gramps and he was calm and looked at my string of fish. After complementing me on my catch he asked if I had found time to think about how I had talked to Grandma this morning. I told him that I had really thought hard about it and was so sorry about it. I promised him that I would never sass her again. I kept that promise through the remaining years she lived. It was a lesson learned because a wise man loved me and wanted me to be brought up right." Paraphrased by Ozark
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Post by ozark on Jan 3, 2009 17:36:20 GMT -5
A daytime sky view from the Ozarks by Ozark practicing posting pictures.  |
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