Hunting stories were originally told as a way to pass down techniques and traditions to the next generation of hunters and fishermen. Early hunters acted out the hunt while youngsters sat wide-eyed. Though times are different in our high-tech world, we all love to hear about hunts or fish tales from each other. Here are a few stories from the vault.
When we bought Rebel and gave him to my dad, he said, "What is that?" My mother said, "It's your new hunting dog." He wasn't very impressed; his last dog was a beautiful English setter over which many pheasants, grouse, and woodcock had fallen. Until we were riding in the car and two roosters ran across the road in front of us. My dad pulled the car over and took the dog over to smell the tracks. He was only three months old. He was half basset hound, half beagle. His ears were three times too big for his head, and he was long like a basset but tall like a beagle, with dark brown hair and tan on his eyebrows and muzzle. He hadn't grown into himself yet. When old Rebel sniffed those pheasant tracks, you could see the fire in his eyes right away. He went the wrong way for about ten yards until he figured out that the track was hotter behind him. After he about-faced, he started whimpering and chasing the scent. Dad grabbed him up and said, "Boys, we got a winner!"
That was a hard season for a puppy because of the deep snow in western New York, where we lived. By the end of the season, he was really coming into his own. Rebel would hunt from sunrise until you dragged him kicking and screaming back to the car. We had to put him on a leash about an hour before dark, or we would have to come back for him the next day. I can remember a couple of times when he would scratch at the door at three in the morning after walking home on his own.
Rebel was like a super dog. We could tell him what game to hunt, and he knew what we wanted. If dad said, "Find the birds," he would look for pheasants, and when he smelled one, his tail would go around in big circles, and he would whine and tip small high-pitch tips. If he was on a rabbit, his tail would go around in small circles, and he would cry bark until the scent got hot. Then he would hit another gear, and it sounded like someone was beating him. It was so exciting to hunt over Rebel because the speed he ran rabbits at was so much faster than any other dog I've hunted over. Squirrels were another specialty of Rebel's. "Get the squirrel, Rebel," is all we had to say, and he would cast out, find a squirrel, and tree it. When we walked up, the squirrel would go to the other side of the tree, and Rebel would bark him right back to our side.
Rebel lived to be seventeen years old and hunted until his last year of life. He slowed down a bunch, but his fire never died out. If I could convey the amount of game taken with that dog, most people wouldn't believe me. Best hunting partner I ever had!
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