Published Bi-Monthly for the Coonhound & Treedog Enthusiast
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Treed and Freed. Seth Brandstetter captured this photo of a female lion at a tree in Colorado. Houndsmen in that state are facing a big anti-hunting ballot initiative this November.
From the Editor’s Desk
Dani Duby - Editor, Full Cry Magazine
Authenticity—there is nothing more authentic to me than a true houndsman and his well-bred dogs. Houndsmen, at their core are tough and thick-skinned, yet they possess a deep, soft-hearted love for their dogs. They speak their minds, knowing they are often misunderstood or unfavored by others. Yet, as this Editor has seen time and time again, these same men will write in prose that romanticizes the dogs of days gone by, and the oneness they feel with the world in wide open spaces.
Authenticity—modern culture often wears it as a badge of honor—proclaiming it as everything, but only if it fits within a narrow vision. Colorado houndsmen are currently fighting a battle to maintain their identity, as their authenticity is being called into question. Yet—their authenticity is often challenged with difficult questions from those outside their world:
• How can they claim to love animals and still pursue game with such passion?
• How do they balance being true conservationists while relying on dogs for the hunt?
• What drives them to hunt lions, if not the pursuit of a kill?
As houndsmen, we know the truth. We know the relationship between handler and dog runs deeper than that. Until you have stood on a mountain, listening to the race echo from the bottom of a canyon, and seeing a houndsman’s face light up with recognition at the echo of a distant bark, you won’t understand.
The houndsman on that mountaintop proclaims, “That’s Rose, she’s got the track lined out. They’ll have it jumped soon.”
“How does he know which dog from so far away?” “How does he know what is happening?” This is the result of authentic skill, deep understanding, and a unique bond forged over years of experience. It takes years of training, care, countless miles in the field, and selecting dogs with genuine abilities to know
this. Critics who undermine the authenticity of houndsmen would have you believe they simply release a dog and wait to shoot whatever it trees.
In a world where their authenticity is questioned, it’s crucial for houndsmen to tell their own story. This issue is going to look different than any we have produced thus far. Typically, I strive for an even split of articles on the various types of hunting tree dogs do, but for this issue, we are giving the lion hunters a platform to let their story be told on their terms. Many—myself included— find it challenging to speak face to face in emotionally charged discussions. This issue gives houndsmen the chance to carefully craft their statements and put them out to the public, with an extra run of issues
COLIN AT AGE 5 WITH LADY. HE IS NOW ALMOST 9, AND LADY IS NO LONGER WITH US, BUT HE STILL HAS HOUNDS ON THE BRAIN EVERYDAY.
making its way to Colorado for houndsmen to share our word.
The idea of putting this issue together in this manner has weighed heavily on my mind for a while. I’ve wrestled with whether this is the right place for it. “Will I face backlash from coon hunters and squirrel doggers, or the public?” “Will this make me a target?” Yet, in the end, it always comes back to one thing: authenticity. It’s easy to create a surface-level product that looks good and entertains, but it’s another thing entirely to be a genuine part of our culture. Being a houndsman is a walk not everyone understands.
Having fallen victim to the California bear ban, I know the pain these Colorado houndsmen feel: the heartache of having your passion stripped away. I know the sting of driving past your favorite hunting spot, knowing you can't turn your dogs loose, even though sound science supports it. I’ve faced the judgment of animal rights activists who see me as a villain for running dogs, despite my own record of animal rescue and rehabilitation.
Years ago, a good friend (with a couple of Keystone Lights on board) made the statement to me: "Why take something you love and ruin it by turning it into a business?" Those words have stayed with me through every dog-related endeavor—none more so than with this magazine.
I deeply love and respect this sport. I am passionate about shining a positive light on houndsmen and the dedication they put into their dogs, their craft, and wildlife conservation. If I let the fear of backlash stop me from dedicating this issue to Colorado houndsmen, I wouldn’t be true to myself or this magazine's purpose.
This magazine exists to be the voice of the authentic houndsman. Sometimes that voice tells a funny story and sometimes the voice reminds us of our roots with a great historical piece. But this issue stands as a steadfast platform for houndsmen to speak their truth. In this issue, you will hear about Teddy Roosevelt; a proven conservationist and champion of wildlife, who held the Colorado recordbook lion for almost 100 years. You’ll learn of Liz; who’s love of
hunting with hounds is seeded in her Native American culture and respect for the earth. A world champion PBR bull rider is going to tell you how his hounds became such a deep part of his identity and soul.
I may not be a lion hunter, but I am a proud member of the hound community, and I stand with them—just as I will stand with any other group of dogmen when the time comes, because they are the real deal.
COLIN AT THE AGE OF 2 ON A MOUNTAIN LISTENING FOR THE REST OF THE DOGS. YOU'LL NOTICE THE ALPHA 100 IN HIS HANDS, IT WAS A DUMMY UNIT GARMIN USED IN DISPLAYS. IT MADE THE BEST TOY EVER FOR A HOUND MINDED KID!
OUR OLDEST SON COLIN, AS A BABY, GETTING TO KNOW THE DOGS.
At the Crossroads
Colorado Proposition 127 Hunting Ban Attacks Our Way of Life
By this time, I’m sure you are aware that Colorado has an outright hunting ban on the ballot. Specifically, Proposition 127 bans mountain lion and bobcat hunting anywhere in the state. As a Coloradan, I’ve been working tirelessly to defeat this proposal, along with many others who are dedicated to our way of life and protecting our cherished traditions.
BY NAOMI HERSH
There’s never anything complex about a hunting ban on the ballot. If we, as sportsmen and women, come together and fight, we win. If we don’t, we lose. In politics, it’s always this simple. There’s no conspiracy here. We raise money, fight, and turn out our voters, we win. If we fail to do all these things, we lose.
Whether it’s dove hunting, bear hunting, trapping, hunting with hounds, “animal welfare” generally, or gun control, ballot box schemes to convince voters to “do something” through emotional appeals have long been part and parcel of American politics in states that allow direct citizen involvement through the ballot initiative process. We could have a long conversation about the “good and bad” of direct citizen involvement, but we are where we are. We must fight.
The fight over mountain lions and bobcats actually started at the wildlife commission level, then again in the Colorado legislature, but we beat them back hard. Instead of taking that clear message, the extremists turned to ballot box biology because they know it works. Convince enough voters to ignore the biologists and cast scientific management aside in favor of what “feels good” works more often than not.
Put simply, the animal extremists have used one trick after another to ban, restrict, or destroy the hunting community through various means, and the ballot box remains one of their favored devices. In Colorado, this isn’t the first time the extremists have used the ballot box to get their radical ideology in place.
"Slowly but surely, the extremists march their way across the United States in their relentless push to cancel hunters once and for always"
Back in 1996, they banned trapping through an initiative, then more recently, required the state to reintroduce wolves, an experiment that is failing miserably. The same playbook is now being used, once again, for Propostition 127. Colorado is in danger of soon becoming a place where one ballot question after another asks uninformed citizens to make decisions about how to manage wildlife and/or cancel hunting altogether. We must fight, because this is a trajectory that ends in disaster for Colorado wildlife, let alone the hunting community.
When I say, “we must fight,” what does this look like? In simple terms, it means all of us, every single one of us, has got to engage in this Colorado fight in some way. The easiest way, of course, is to support the campaign (see box on next page) that is directly fighting Proposition 127 on our behalf. But it should also go much deeper. Call everyone you know who hunts anything and tell them about the Colorado fight, how each of us is under attack, and all of us must pull together to send the extremists packing.
Often, folks in our community will assume that a fight in another state is not about them. Or, they may say to themselves, “well I don’t hunt mountain lions, so this
doesn’t affect me.” We’ve all heard this. And it’s precisely what the radical extremists are counting on. Divide and conquer works, and they know it. They clearly understand that coming after all hunters nationwide would never work, so they pick us off one species, one state at a time.
It really is like a bad movie. Slowly but surely, the extremists march their way across the United States in their relentless push to cancel hunters once and for always. Of course, they never tell the voters what their true intentions are. But why would they?
Proposition 127 is not only about Colorado. It’s not only about mountain lions or bobcats. It’s about all of us.
To place this in perspective, all you have to do is ask the Humane Society of the United States, the Center for Biological Diversity, or any of the other antihunting groups in Colorado, or anywhere, what kind of hunting they support, and you’ll see the answer plain as day. They don’t support any of it. They want to ban it all.
Yes, they are coming for you too. A win in Colorado will only embolden them to keep pressing, keep pushing, until their radical ideology is shoved down everyone’s throat and America is changed forever. Future generations and our cherished outdoor traditions? Long gone if they remain unchecked.
As an officer of the United Houndsmen of Colorado and a regional director of the Colorado Trapper and Predator Hunter’s Association, I know this simple truth: if we band together, we can win and will win. I’ve met with hunters throughout Colorado and the nation, and I’m
always amazed at how selfless hunters can be to help one another. But this one, this fight in Colorado, is definitely time for all hands on deck. All across the country, we need everyone to step up and deliver.
Even with the election looming, there is still plenty of time to get engaged, or even get reengaged to help our brothers and sisters defeat Proposition 127 in Colorado. After the balloons have dropped on election night, our celebration or defeat remains in our own hands as of right now when you read these words. We must fight and we must win, so let’s just get down to business and refuse to allow anything but an election day victory.
THE FIGHT FOR OUR FUTURE
Proposition 127: Prohibit Bobcat, Lynx, and Mountain Lion Hunting – Proposition 127 proposes amending the Colorado statues to:
• Prohibit the hunting or trapping of bobcats, lynx, and mountain lions;
• Continue to permit the killing of these animals under certain circumstances;
• and Establish penalties for violations. In simple terms, a hunting ban.
How can you help?
Please visit www.wildlifedeservesbetter.com to see the various ways you can help.
IMAGINE TWO SCENARIOS:
Jake rolled out of bed and cleared the sleep from bleary eyes. The clock read 2:00 and the bright red numbers stung both the eyes and the part of the soul that balks at starting to move at 2AM. Jake stood up, before sleep and the warm bed could claim them once again, and began to get dressed.
The ancient hound “Daisy”, stirring from her place of honor in front of the stove in the living room, and whined. Daisy's mornings of running and trailing were distant memories made foggy by age and time. The desire still burned, but her body was no longer capable, as the mileage and years had finally taken their toll. Still, she stood and shock herself off. She had a job to do, even if it was simply to welcome
the start of a new day with Jake. Stretching, she hobbled over to the stairs and sat down, waiting to greet Jake.
After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee for Jake, (kibble and water for Daisy) and with an additional quart of coffee to keep the last grasping tendrils of sleep at bay, Jake rubs the old hounds head affectionately before closing the kitchen door and, feet crunching in the dirt, walks over to the kennel that houses the children, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren of Daisy, the ancient one. The hounds hear the crunch of the gravel and quickly rouse themselves from their warm beds stretch and shake off the last doldrums between sleep and wakefulness. The older hounds whine in excitement for what the day shall bring, the youngest hounds whine for
breakfast. Jake walks down the row of kennels rubbing ears and softly speaking names:
“How are you Ruby?”
“Well Stan, are you ready for another good day?”
“Blaze, come here youngster. There's my boy...”
The hounds wag and begin to practically vibrate with excitement. Today is opening day and even the puppies can tell that today is vastly different from the day before. The anticipation is palpable. The adults know why, as they have been through this before and remember. The puppies know too, on an instinctual level. Some ancient voice in the back of their minds,
beckoning into the darkness. A baying voice that echoes from the walls of memories that aren't their own...
Jake feeds and waters the hounds and starts the truck while they eat. Jake stands and looks at the puppies. They were born last winter. A breeding from Jake's two best dogs. These puppies were the embodiment of fifteen years of dedication and careful planning. Jake knew that even the best laid plans can sometimes become expensive regrets, but these puppies seemed different. From their first steps out of the warmth and safety of the whelping box, they were tracking. At four weeks Jake had found them under a hydrangea bush, baying at the cat. When the puppies had reached eight weeks, Daisy had again had a tracking collar put on her. Not to keep track of her, but so Jake knew where the puppies were, as Daisy had taken it upon herself to babysit her greatgrandchildren. By the time the puppies were four months, they all needed tracking collars, and Daisy (no longer able to keep up) had resumed her retirement in her place of honor in the house. Countless hours, money, care and affection, and a pair of boot-soles later and these pups were ready to join the adults on their first bear hunt. Today would be their first real test. An indication as to whether the puppies had that innate something that all good bear dogs have. Jake smiled. This is what it was all about...
...OR:
Jack rolled out of bed and kicked at the cat. Hungover and angry. He downed last nights beer (the hair of the dog that bit ya, don'tcha' know...), pulled on his overalls with the hole in
"Houndmen are dedicated to their lifestyle because they want to be good at something that is worth being good at"
the crotch, stumbled through the kitchen into the back yard to the old barrel beside the rusted skeleton of a car, and tossed his hungry hound –whose name he couldn't quite remember– and it's skinny pup in the bed of his pickup. Jack drove unsteadily to the local dump to drop the hounds on one of the many bear that gathered there to eat garbage (and the illegal bait Jack had thrown out). Today was opening season and he wanted to kill something. He had bought the hound from an ad on Facebook marketplace 6 months ago, and it had turns out she had been pregnant. He hated dogs, but liked killing, so it seemed like a good idea at the time. The puppy didn't have a name. Neither had tracking collars. If they never came back, well, so what. He wasn't going to go looking for them.
One of these stories reflects reality. The other is a fabrication based on the misconceptions and misinformation that is rampant among the people who are against our lifestyle. Can you tell which one is which? Of course you can!
I know 100's of Jake's in the hound community. The care and time and dedication they put into their hounds is at the absolute highest level. Apart from the physical, these houndsmen put the time in to encourage
and develop the psychological and instinctual qualities that their hounds will need. They cultivate the puppies and their mental strength to a degree far surpassing what even the most dedicated of pet owners do (Sorry Karen, my bear dog is healthier than your fur-baby in every way).
Jack, on the other hand, is an a**hole and is a complete fabrication. Plain and simple. I have never met a Jack. Fictional Jack is the type of person who would likely key his own car. Jack is what the people who are against us want those who are on the fence about hunting with hounds to believe is a good representation of “us”. Jack doesn't exist and this representation doesn't reflect who we are, and I will tell you why.
True houndsmen are the combination of two things. First, of course, they are hunters. They pursue. They strive to harvest game, and they pursue because the game has earned their utmost respect.
Secondly, and more importantly, they are dog folk. They live and breathe hounds. They talk about it when they are awake, they dream about it when they sleep and –like sand poured in to a bucket of rocks–the hounds fill every available space in the lives of their people. It is all-encompassing and the men and women who hunt with hounds are dedicated to the well-being of their hounds from the moment they are born until the day they leave us, left alone in our grief.
If all we wanted to do was kill, we would sit over a bait and wait. That would be easy. The journey from a puppy to a finished bear dog is difficult, long, involved, and intense.
We would have to be insane to train a hound without caring deeply for the hound from the moment they blinking step into the sun. Why throw away every evening and weekend for three years on something we don't care about? That would be insanity. Hound hunters are a special breed, but we are not (as a rule anyway) COMPLETELY insane. Even if we were completely insane, that manifests itself in other ways. (I used my wife's new Subaru to hunt while my truck was at the mechanics on opening day. I even brought along the carsickness prone puppy. Now THAT is insanity.)
Houndmen are dedicated to their lifestyle because they want to be good at something that is worth being good at. Guiding the development of our hounds from puppy to adulthood is what we want to be good at. The hounds and their drive and voices resonate with us. The excitement and anticipation when we look at our puppies is all the motivation we need to get up and out at ungodly hours to give them the experiences necessary to reach their potential. We know too that once the hounds reach their potential that our jobs are not done. An adult hound needs to be kept physically and mentally healthy. Once the hound has reached the peak of its potential and has begun the slow descent towards old age, our jobs are still not done. The old hounds still need us, and we still offer of ourselves long after that hounds’ “useful” days are passed.
The people who are against hound hunting want to portray us as cold, heartless, cruel and dumb. Our hounds themselves are our best evidence to argue the contrary. From start to finish, the hounds have required our best, and have given us their best in return. That is beautiful.
THIS PHOTO IS CONTRIBUTED BY THE EDITOR; THIS FEMALE (MADDOG PSYCO SHOT IN THE DARK) HAD 16 PUPPIES THAT HAD TO BE BOTTLE FED. THAT IS AN ACT OF DEDICATION!
Hunt Hard, Hunt Often
A Hounddog Saved My Life
Hello to all the Full Cry readers! As a houndsmen, hunter, rancher, and Vice President of United Houndsmen of Colorado: I am honored and excited to write an article for the magazine that has so much history and tradition imbedded in it. Let me share a bit of my story with you and how a hounddog saved my life:
Born and raised in Colorado, I grew up hunting, trapping, fishing; raising cattle and horses; raising bird dogs, and farming. Like most kids raised in this environment, I spent nearly every spare moment I had outside going off on some adventure that may - or may notget me scolded by my parents or injured somehow. Wild things and wild places always seemed to be where I ended up. Unbeknownst to me at the time, there was one wild activity that I would find myself addicted to forever. Riding bulls became an absolute obsession of mine after watching a video of Cheyenne Frontier Days at six years old; it lit a fire that to this day still burns hot.
For nearly my entire life I devoted myself to the sport of bullriding. That seems absolutely crazy to most people, but for whatever reason it called to me like a drug. There was no way to ignore the desire in my heart for it. For 26 years, it drove me to be the best I could possibly be. Although, in the beginning, I had exactly zero natural talent to stay on a bucking bull; I did have an incredibly stubborn attitude that refused to quit. Eventually the ability to ride better started to develop after years of failure as a young kid. The hard work was eventually rewarded with success and by high school it finally dawned on me that I was pretty darn good, driving me to be even better. Fast forward to a professional career after high school that resulted in a PBR (Professional Bull Riders) Rookie of The Year Title in 2005, and a PBR World Championship in 2009, and ten straight qualifications to the PBR World Finals. Post-career it has also been quite an honor to receive the PBR Ring of Honor in 2023, and induction into the Bullriding Hall of Fame in 2024. Now, I currently coach a team of bullriders in the newly created
PBR Team Series. I tell you that entire back story with hopes that you understand the significance of how much work and dedication I had put into something that I was so passionate about. Because in an instant, it was all taken away.
To make a long story somewhat short, I was driving home from a bullriding event one night. Suddenly, my vision got extremely blurry, I could not see more than a few yards in front of me, my speech was slurred, and my balance was absolutely shot. One look at me you’d think I was pass-out drunk. A friend finished driving home, where I eventually went to the doctor who thought I’d had a stroke, but after some tests he ruled that out. After what seemed like
endless testing that went on for a year: the final determination of the problem was that a decent size tumor wrapped around the carotid artery in my neck. It was choking down blood flow to my brain, messing up some nerves that go to the eyes and tongue. The surgeons removed it, and fortunately most of the symptoms went away. But my eyes would not track fast movement like they used to, bringing my bullriding career to a fast end, as being able to clearly see the bull is pretty important in the sport. True to my stubborn self -- for a little while I kept trying to ride by feel and not by sight, but I finally accepted the fact that you need both to be successful. So just like
that -- the sport I loved and was willing to die for was gone.
By this point in the story, you’re probably starting to wonder when the dogs come into the picture right? Well hold on, because they’re almost here. You see, after my passion, riding bulls, was taken away from me – I was in a bad spot mentally. I’m not too proud to admit that I started drinking too much to cope with the depression that I felt, in turn making the depression worse. Because of that downward cycle, my mind went to some really bad places that - even now - scare me to think of how long and how often I felt like there wasn’t much reason to stay alive. I was way too close to the edge and there’s no coming back from the fall off that one. Fortunately, this is where a hound dog saved my life.
I’d grown up raising Chesapeake dogs for bird hunting, then later in life raised catahoula/ cur crosses for catching wild cattle. Working dogs were always part of my life. In 2008, I’d started hunting lions first on a guided hunt in NM, and then the following years I hunted with friends who owned lion dogs. The dogs were then, and still are now, my absolute favorite part about pursuing predators. With my schedule riding bulls and being on the road all the time, I didn’t want to have dogs sitting in a kennel most of the time, so I didn’t own any of my own. Once I couldn’t ride bulls anymore, I had the time and decided to get some of my own. A good friend of mine was selling a couple older dogs, and I called him to buy them, and he put a couple more young dogs in on our deal as well. Although I didn’t know it at the time, this group of four dogs was about to save me from myself and give me a new passion to pursue. (But
"I’m a firm believer that our passion reveals our purpose in this world"
on a side note, now years and years later, I wonder if maybe I should’ve kicked him in the nuts instead for getting me started in a never-ending cycle of dog food, broken equipment, and bills that make drugs and gambling look like a cheap alternative!)
The first time I hit the woods with my very own dogs - by myself - was when it really hit me. Hit me hard; I felt a connection to the life I remember again. That drive to put in the work to be good at something that is hard, it requires a stubbornness to not quit when things are difficult because of a fire that burns inside of you. The same passion for something that I’d felt lost without had been renewed and had truly pulled me back from the ledge. Now, the dogs are as much a part of life as riding bulls was. Every day consists of putting in work or plans to improve the dogs and myself. Every moment not spent hunting is a moment that’s filled with desire to go hunting. They say perfection is impossible to achieve, and while I agree with that, I believe any day not spent moving ahead is a day spent moving backwards. We may not be able to achieve perfection, but the pursuit of it in any aspect of life is both rewarding and necessary. For whatever reason, bullriding and hunting dogs are things that make me come alive and dedicate myself towards the pursuit of perfection. And I’m extremely thankful that God put them both in my life, because I’m a firm believer that our passion reveals our purpose in
this world; absolutely, this world needs more people who live with a purpose.
In closing, I want to leave you with this thought: what we do as houndsmen, how we live, and the tradition of hunting with dogs is important. It’s important to keep alive and defend not only for the conservation and management of the species we hunt, but for the men and women who deep down in their hearts have a passion that drives them to wake up every day and get after it. I’m thankful every day when I see these dogs and remember where I was when we started this journey. The thought of what might’ve happened without them isn’t one I like to think about. I give a lot of credit to these dogs for saving my life. The truth is, however, that God saved me and deserves the credit: He used a hunting dog to do it. That makes me realize – these dogs we all love serve a bigger purpose in the world than we realize.
So, I encourage everyone to get involved in houndsmen and hunting groups to make their voices heard in our country. Hunters, trappers, anglers, farmers, and ranchers all need to work together to keep our rural way of life alive. No doubt about it; a strong, unified group of people will need to understand they’re all on the same team. It takes effort though -- the same effort that you put into becoming a better houndsmen is the same effort that it will take to preserve it for the next generation. Hunting dogs have shaped a big part of my life and I’m sure the same is true for the readers here. So, for our tradition, our heritage, our families and our lives, get out there and get after it.
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A Colorado Mountain Lion Hunt
From the September 2002 Issue of Full Cry Magazine
December 1, 2001, Southwest Colorado 10:00 AM: six inches of fresh snow. A man discovers the track of the mountain lion. By the end of that day, the lion is killed that is to be the new Colorado State Record. The previous Colorado state record was taken in January, 1901, one hundred years earlier. Teddy Roosevelt took that lion on a hunt near Meeker, Co. I will tell the story of the new record line as best I can.
PHOTOS
I am Dick Ray, who along with my son Mike Ray, own and operate Lobo Outfitters out of Pagosa Springs, Co. Both Mike and I were born and raised (reared) in New Mexico. A state which has a rich tradition and history of hunting mountain lions with hounds.
In the 1960s, I was trying to learn the ropes the hard way by hunting alone with coon dogs and mule. There weren't over half a dozen good, productive houndsmen in the state at that time. Some of those were government hunters working five days a week, year-round using traps, poison, and dogs. Cougars were scarce. Mule deer were plentiful. Good hounds that would trail a lion and never break and run a deer or coyote were uncommon. This was before the electronic dog tracking and dog training collars were invented. Most “would be” lion hunters became discouraged long before they became successful. At the time, Teddy Roosevelt’s lion was the world record and had been since the inception of the Boone and Crockett Records in 1939. We all wondered if that record would ever be surpassed.
A lot of changes have occurred since the 1960's. The cougar is no longer scarce in the west. Mule deer, especially older age; class bucks are scarce in lion country. Boone and Crockett have slowly increased minimum scores to qualify for the records on all species except mule deer. Mule deer minimum qualifying scores have been lowered! Mountain lions are no longer trapped, poisoned or shot indiscriminately in the Western States. Oregon and California have almost eliminated the hunting of cougar completely (to the detriment of bighorn sheep and some deer herds.)
However, most Western states do have structured seasons that aim to balance a lion's predatory ways with the presence of other species within an ecosystem. The number of mountain lions has grown rapidly in the past 30 years. There are perhaps ten times more lions in existence now than there were 30 years ago. The annual harvest in Colorado, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming is three to four times more than the annual number taken twenty years ago.
A growing number of lions has been met with a growing number of hunters, aided by electronic training collars, electronic tracking collars. ATV snowmobiles, two-way radios and cellular phones the logistics of Mountain Lion hunting has never been easier. Not to say that the lion hunt itself is “easy.” It can be, but so can winning the lottery if you are the lucky one. By and large, hunting lions is the most physically demanding, frustrating and satisfying hunt of all North American hunting. I would like to tell you that we had hunted for the record lion for years, but I'm not sure that we had. As the number of competing hunters increase, so do the number of areas increase that get hunted. We have probed deeper each year into areas more difficult to get into, out of, and more difficult to actually hunt.
Two years ago, Mike and a local client found a large lion track headed away from the rugged wilderness area. The dogs were released and trailed the lion in a several mile-and-a-half circle. Which resulted in the lion headed back into the wilderness, over 4 feet of snow.
The next day, Mike snowshoed miles behind the dogs (The client had to work that day). At last he caught the four hounds. It was a long, arduous snowshoe trip out.
When you release the hounds on a track, you set a series of events into motion that, once started, must be finished. You've got to be prepared mentally. And with the minimum amount of gear to spend the night out, if that's what it takes. Most nights in lion season in the Rocky Mountains are subzero, and you will be drenched with snow melt and/or sweat. As a consequence, the areas that have the most roads are the easiest to hunt and get hunted the most often.
Mountain lions, especially males, are very mobile. Sometimes they leave what would be an unhunted area and roam through areas new to them. They may do this in search of a female, or better prey, or just because they can. It's not uncommon to find a large new male in our vulnerable, heavily hunted area.
Om December 1st, 2001, a large male mountain lion about 7 years old, left his tracks along the rim of a wilderness canyon northwest of Pagosa Springs, Co. A fresh snow the night before had inspired a covey of hunters to venture out to locate a fresh lion track. Some of the hunters had left at 2:00 AM or earlier to get ahead of the others. As they drove the backcountry roads, they all hoped to find where the “big one” had crossed ahead of them. Of course, mountain lions, being nocturnal, sometimes cross behind the midnight riders.
Harold Thompson is a lion hunter. He is physically fit, a gentleman, and more importantly, a good friend. On that day, Harold just went a little farther than usual, and he found the track left by the big one. Working with us to help acquire a track to trail for one of our two clients that day, Harold called me about 9:30
AM to report that he had found a track, and it was a “dandy”.
I was on another mountain and told Harold that I thought Mike was probably after a lion with our client, Blake Walters, from Dallas. I asked him to try and locate our other client, Brian Williams, and go back to the track with Brian.
Brian is a local builder that has been Mike’s good friend since school days. I was still surprised that Brian had wanted to hunt another lion. Brian had guided elk hunters for us right out of high school. He later went to work guiding elk and lion hunters for my brother, Sam. Brian even had his own hounds and had taken a tomcat over fourteen inches for himself several years ago. In March of 2001, he mentioned that he would like to hunt lion again. I said, “Yeah right” but he wrote a check for his hunt deposit. Handing me the check, he said, “I would like to kill a really big one.”
“Don’t they all?” I thought, but it would be fun to hunt with Brian again. He is a good guy and experienced enough to appreciate a truly big lion. Brian and Harold met and arrived back at the track at 11:00am. Brian knew that the lion was big but was really hoping for a Boone and Crockett qualifier. He even told Harold, “I don’t have to take it. Why don’t you take it?” At this point, no one knew for sure if Blake Walters and Mike Ray had been successful or what.
Harold and Brian released three of our dogs, and the hunt was on. The trail led them along ledges and across perilously steep mountain sides. In places, the men had to crawl on hands and knees to cross precarious rim rock. But they followed the trailing hounds. They were part of the team. Three hours later,
"Hearing the hounds, Mike knew why Brian had wanted to hunt the lion again. The mystique of the lion coupled with the basic instinct of the hounds to bark and trail can wake a man from passive regression and cause him to progress into the basic hunter that he is"
when Brian saw the lion high in a tree, there was no doubt that he was big enough to take.
Meanwhile, Mike and Blake had found a good track at daylight and had trailed, treed, and collected a good tom cat. When Mike and I talked, I told him where he might hear the dogs, which were after Brian's lion. If Mike could come into the hunt from the south he could provide a much shorter way out, whether a lion was killed or not. If Mike could hear the hounds, he could join the hunt. His only obstacle would be the very steep, rugged terrain which had a swift deep river at the bottom of a box canyon.
All of the action was happening on the other side of that river. Mike arrived at a spot about five miles south of where Brian and Harold had started the hounds on the lion track. Upon listening, he could hear the hounds speaking to the lion and the small world that surrounded them. Above the sandstone rim rock on the opposite side of the river, the hounds had treed the lion. Hearing the hounds, Mike knew why Brian had wanted to hunt the lion again. The mystique of the lion coupled with the basic instinct of the
hounds to bark and trail can wake a man from passive regression and cause him to progress into the basic hunter that he is. Hunt, being an action verb; to seek, search and attempt to find but not necessarily kill what he finds. Mike made his way down the icy mountains to the river. He found a place where the three to four feet deep rushing cold waters had frozen solid from the bank almost to the center from each side. He managed to bridge the unfrozen six feet of open water from boulder to boulder with the small logs and tree limbs. Across the river, up the mountain and above the rim rock, he found Brian, Harold, the dogs, and the biggest lion he had ever seen.
Brian had decided it was “big enough” and took it with his 9mm handgun. The hunters made their way out just before dark. They came out the way Mike had come in, with the lion's skin and meat in their three backpacks.
My first look at Brian’s lion was that evening. Mike held the head up and asked “What do you think?” I replied, “It’s the widest head I’ve ever seen on a lion!”
Mike and I had taken the state record mountain lion for New Mexico in 1985. That lion weighed one hundred eighty-six pounds, and scored 15 8/16. I was sure that Brian’s lion had a bigger skull. It didn’t take long to cape the skull and apply the calipers. To everyone’s amazement, the green score was 16 3/16. None of us ever expected to see a lion of that size. There have only been a handful over sixteen inches reported in all of North America. I am an official SCI measurer, but anything placing in the top ten must dry sixty days and be scored by a master measurer.
BIOLOGIST BART GEORGE IS PLACING A HOOD COVER ON A CAT THAT HAS JUST BEEN DRUGGED. HE WILL THEN COLLAR THIS CAT BEFORE RELEASING IT
ANOTHER CAT COLLARED WITH HOUNDS FOR BART'S PROJECT.
COUGARS IN WA HAVE LOST THEIR FEAR OF HUMANS OVER THEIR YEARS DUE TO A STATEWIDE HUNTING BAN.
AFTER A COLLAR IS APPLIED THIS CAT WILL BE RELEASED AND TREED MULTIPLE TIMES AGAIN IN AN ATTEMPT TO HAZE IT, ESSENTIALLY TRAINING IT TO 'STAY BACK' FROM PEOPLE.
HIS WORK HAS SHOWN THAT AN ADDED BENEFIT OF ALLOWING HUNTING WITH HOUNDS IS A DECREASE IN 'NUISANCE' HUMAN INTERACTIONS IN POPULATED AREAS EXISTS IN CATS THAT ARE TREED & RELEASED IN THE AREA
The discovery that a colossal cat had been taken in the Pagosa Springs area has caused hunters to come to hunt for Brian’s lion’s brother or father. However, one familiar with mountain lion behavior and biology would understand the older males are seldom killed near their place of birth. It is perfectly natural for a sub adult male to leave its mothers home range and to emigrate up to a couple hundred miles to take up residence. With young males playing musical chairs with home ranges, the species is guaranteed the genetic diversity that it must have to remain viable. If the young males did not leave, they would be available to mate with their mother and sisters.
Of course, our questions have been, “Who is this lion? Where does his mother live? Has this cross been made before or since? Did he have a brother?”
In 1986, our client, Ray Bailey, took a Boone and Crockett cougar with us. It was seven years old, and scored 15 4/16. This cat wore a tag identifying him as an emigrant from just west of Grand Junction, Colorado. Tagged as a one-anda-half-year-old, he had traveled nearly three hundred miles to
be harvested in northwest New Mexico. A male lion from the same study was taken some two hundred fifty miles away in Northeast Colorado.
Outfitter Jeff Allen, of Kanab, Utah, took a lion on the North rim of the Grand Canyon, which had been tagged seven years earlier, south of the Grand Canyon. The question remains “Where did Brian William’s lion come from?” Probably, we will never know, but New Mexico Department of Game and Fish is compiling DNA on lions harvested there. We have submitted DNA to them. Perhaps someday we will know more.
We do know that on January 31, 2002, Brian’s lion officially measured sixteen inched for Boone and Crockett and SCI. The lion measured seven feet, eleven inches long before it was skinned. It weighed about 220 pounds with an empty stomach. Brian Williams had taken a specimen of Felis concolor which surpassed a onehundred-year record for Colorado. We also know that the bigger the specimen, the more humbling is the experience. The hunter cannot create; he can only hunt.
EDITOR'S NOTE
At first glance, it may seem unusual to include a story about a trophy hunt in an issue where houndsmen are pleading their case against a bill that targets ‘trophy hunting.’ However, we believe that understanding things you don't know comes best through real-life examples. This story offers a vivid portrayal of what a ‘trophy’ hunt truly entails.
If you read closely, you’ll see the immense effort involved—the miles covered, the cliffs scaled, and the rivers crossed. You’ll understand that the success of the hunt required teamwork between hunters and dogs. You’ll make note that this was a selective harvest by a man who though having guided and hunted for years had opted to harvest only one lion in the past (though you can rest assured he had had ample opportunity.) You’ll also notice that the meat, along with the hide, was packed out, and yes—mountain lion meat was
consumed. Additionally, DNA samples were provided to support ongoing scientific research as hunters worked with biologists to further true science-based conservation.
When all this is understood, you’ll see the 'trophy' aspect of the hunt in a broader context. The measurements, the record keeping, and the photos were about pride in accomplishing something, not unlike the pride a fisherman takes in measuring and photographing his catch.
This story was originally published without a large spread of pictures. Because of this, I have chosen to pair this story with photos provided by Bart George, a biologist currently running a study with hounds. I felt that the juxtaposition between the public image of houndsmen as trophy hunters vs. the reality of houndsmen as great conservationists was a thought-provoking contrast.
Tracking History
Teddy Roosevelt's Long Standing Record
BY DICK RAY
After being part of the hunt which yielded the record mountain lion for the state of Colorado, I was driven to research the prior record holder, a lion harvested by Theodore Roosevelt 100 years before.
What do we know about this old state record, harvested in 1901? We know that we both found the track of a huge lion, tracked him down, and harvested him, but the experience Roosevelt had 100 years before us must have been a much different hunt as no
electronic tracking equipment, no snowmobiles, no ATV’s or Goretex were available in 1901
In researching his story, I found that Roosevelt, who was the Governor of New York when elected to the vice presidency in 1900, resigned as the governor effective Dec. 31st, 1900.
As the inauguration was not scheduled until March 4 1901, the VP elect opted to take some time and experience a mountain lion hunt in Colorado. Teddy Roosevelt and two close friends arrived in Meeker, Colorado on January 11 after a long wagon ride from the rail depot in Rifle, Colorado. The temperature was 18 below zero.
After a night’s stay at the Meeker Hotel, the hunters left on horseback with John Goff, the outfitter and guide for the entire hunt. The hunt continued for five weeks, with only Goff and Roosevelt hunting together, on horseback, for the last four weeks.
The hunting grounds were all north of the White River, mostly in the Coyote Basin and Colorow Mountain vicinity. Roosevelt’s attire for the hunt consisted of Heavy Flannels, a sheepskin coat and mittens, an ear cap, heavy German wool socks, and overshoes. Some days, coveralls were part of the attire. He also had his iconic buckskin jacket and an absolutely positive attitude.
BY PHILIP B. STEWART
Several lions were taken during this hunt, with all of the skins and skulls sent to the Smithsonian as part of the National Collection. Theodore Roosevelt, a Harvard trained biologist, kept meticulous records of the weights and measurements of all the lions harvested. One of the lions Roosevelt took on this trip had a skull score of 15 12/16, holding the world record until 1964.
Though we can’t be sure of which lion on his trip this story is about, we do know that one of the lions taken had an unusual twist:
‘It is 4pm on a January day. The sun is about to set and the temperature is dropping fast. The hounds have a lion bayed on a ledge along the rimrock high above the canyon bottom. The only way to get to him and the dogs was along the rimrock above. The hunters worked their way up to the top. Goff is able to crawl out on a down-sloping slab and peered over the edge.
Crawling back to Roosevelt, he reports; “I think you might be able to shoot from the edge and take that lion. Roosevelt crawls out and sees the lion. “Goff, if you can hold my heels, I think I can make the shot.”
John Goff, a man who stands 5’6” and weighs about 140 holds the heels of Roosevelt (around 190 pounds) who is laying on a very slanted rock. Mr. Roosevelt makes the shot, and the lion and dogs are collected.
The legend and inspiration of Teddy Roosevelt is true and lives on. Teddy Roosevelt was a politician, a hunter, a mover, and shaker who led by example while championing the ‘strenuous life’ as well as the traditions and heritage of America’s pioneers.
“BARKING TREED” - JOHN GOFF'S PACK AT A LION TREE ON ROOSEVELT'S HUNT.
A COUGAR IN A TREE ON ROOSEVELTS HUNT
THE FIRST COUGAR KILLED ON THE TRIP. TEDDY ROOSEVELT ON THE RIGHT
Insights from Tradition
A Conversation with Elizabeth "Liz" Washoe
A CHANGING RELATIONSHIP WITH THE LAND
For thousands of years, humans have been connected to the land, not just by choice but by necessity. At its core, this relationship has been a simple give-and-take. However, today, our deep-rooted reliance on the land has evolved into something more distant, even platonic. While many still enjoy what the land has to offer, there's been a drastic decline in those who feel a true, primal connection to the landscape. But why?
Over the years I have had countless conversations about our societal disconnect with friend and foe, but my recent conversation with Elizabeth (Liz) Washoe stood out. Born and raised in northeastern California, Liz is a proud descendant of Maidu, Pit River, Washoe, and Modoc ancestors. Although she grew up hunting, her passion for hunting with dogs developed later. As a teenager, she obtained her first hound, a registered Bluetick, and together they "figured it out." Now, thirty years later, she is still chasing her passion with the descendants of that original dog.
Liz spent six years in the southern Utah/northern Arizona area, where she earned the title of a ‘dry ground lion hunter’—a title not easily earned and highly respected among Houndsmen. She spent many days catching lions and bobcats in places like Kaibab, the Arizona Strip, and Paunsaugunt, but she longed for home. Four years ago, she returned to northeastern California, where she continues to live, hunt, fish, and gather on her ancestral homelands.
THE LAND AS A SACRED RESPONSIBILITY
Liz practices traditional cultural stewardship as best as she can in the modern era. She hopes one day to recreate a line of hunting dogs reminiscent of the native breeds that were lost to colonization. For Liz, the connection to the land is more than just personal—it's cultural and ancestral.
“We're put here in this place and we're told that everything that we would ever need to survive would be right here and we have no reason to go
anywhere else.” Liz remarks.
The earth is meant to provide for our needs, but not to be exploited beyond its natural limits. The modern world, however, often forgets this balance, and that disconnection leads to a loss much greater than just resources—it causes us to lose our way.
DISCONNECTED FROM THE PAST
Modern conservation practices often feel disconnected from traditional knowledge. According to Liz, today's policies, often
driven by guilt from our actions in the past, fail to respect the natural balance.
“Every time that we make these laws where you can't use these kinds of things (dogs), it's actually disrespecting the entire promise, or system, that was given to us by the creator.”
Early settlers viewed predators and indigenous peoples as threats to be eliminated. Today, many conservation efforts overcorrect, treating all wildlife as untouchable—even when such
LIZ WASHOE AND HER PACK
measures are impractical for sound management.
“It's flip -flopped from one side to the other, it wasn't very long ago that there was a commitment to exterminate all these animals and even the people that were here originally. And now, you know, they have finally realized that wasn't the right thing to do, but now it's gone so far the other direction. I think a lot of it's associated with a sort of guilt. It’s gone so far the other direction that it's not right either.”
HISTORY OF EXTINCT NATIVE DOGS
Liz’s interest in dog hunting peaked her interest in researching the traditional use of dogs by Native Americans, particularly in Northern California. For Native Americans, hunting with dogs was not just a cultural practice but a sacred act.
“A lot of the tribes here, all the Maidu, had hunting dogs. We all had hunting dogs. Most of them were for deer, but they also treed game and they also would have some dogs, depending on the tribes, that were better at catching animals like black bears as well.”
With this article, we have included the first page of a chart compiled in 1941 by Professor Alfred Kroeber. He worked on a canine ethnograph project; surveying various tribes in California to create a database of their dogs, their purposes, and the game that they pursued with them. It is important to note that Kroeber’s findings are not all inclusive and were mostly taken from secondhand stories passed down through the years. Liz points out that his findings include noting that some tribes
"People say, we need to coexist with these predators. Yes, we do but coexistence was never non-lethal"
(such as the Maidu) did not have dogs when in fact they did as has since been proven.
Even with this study, little is known about the dogs, though Liz imagines (from her research) that the original dogs were more similar to a Laika or Cur type dog than a modern hound. This correlates to some anthropologists’ beliefs that the first hunting dogs arrived via the Bering land bridge.
This is where history starts to get fuzzy, Native Americans do not believe they arrived via the land bridge, rather that they were planted in the lands where they lived. Archaeological evidence shows that people were present in North America before the land bridge, leading some to believe that the dogs may have been placed here by the creator rather than arriving through migration.
What we do know about the appearance of these dogs comes from Anthropologist John Easinger who describes the dogs of the Modoc Indians as “a single small variety with prick ears, short hair, brown and black’.
In 1601 explorer Father Antonio de la Ascension gives us one of the earliest descriptions of the California Native American dogs, “the Indians have many dogs of medium size and of good appearance like our spotted retrievers, only they do not bark,
but howl like coyotes”
As the settlers and their western breeds of hunting dogs encroached upon Native American lands they brought disease and parasites to these Native dogs. If the distemper didn’t get these dogs the next challenge faced was the settlers. The quickest way to defeat a population is to remove their food source. Just as the slaughter of buffalo during the Buffalo War was a way to hinder and starve the Native Americans of the Great Plains, the killing of hunting dogs in Northern California was a quick way to hinder the capture of game as a food source of the Native Americans. Between disease and slaughter Native American hunting dogs became extinct.
For Liz, with this deep-rooted knowledge of her ancestral history of reliance on hunting dogs, hound hunting represents more than the thrill of the chase. It provides her with an opportunity to see the land through the eyes of those who came before her. Dogs weren’t just tools—they were partners in the hunt, and tribes in California deeply understood this bond. Paul Langenwalter, a professor of archaeology and anthropology at Biola University in La Mirada, California has examined the remains of hunting dogs at Native American burial sites dating back to the 1700’s. His findings show that Indians had a standard practice for burying their dogs. When a Native American died their dog was often sacrificed and buried in a “curled up” position as though sleeping next to them.
Respect for the prey and the environment was fundamental to the sacred practice of hunting.
CAUGHT WITH HER DOGS.
LIZ WASHOE
LIZ WASHOE'S PACK AT A TREE
LIZ'S PACK POSES FOR A PHOTO IN ARIZONA
BASIC CULTURE ELEMENTS OF DOGS OF CALIFORNIA ABORIGINAL GROUPS
RESPECT IS NOT HANDS OFF
“Basically, all tribes have a version of the same creation story, When the creator made the people in that area. There was a first world, and then there was a flood, and then there was a new world, and the creator remade the people again. When he planted the people like seeds in the dirt and then when they came out, they were told, this is your land. Everything you ever will need to survive is going to be right here. You don't need to go and take it from your neighbors. You don't need to try to take stuff away. Just stay here and take care of what you have.”
She continues to expand on the viewpoint of what ‘taking care of it’ means as far as predator control: “People say, we need to coexist with these predators. Yes, we do but coexistence was never non -lethal. Coexistence was lethal on both sides. They killed us and we killed them, and we coexisted. There was always some killing going on. It was a give and take. It was never just a hands-off type thing.”
FINDING THE BALANCE
While we cannot bring back extinct species of dogs, Liz feels she can find a modern balance of allowing hunting dogs and staying with sound science instead of an all or none attitude. What we need is dialogue—a meeting point between the old ways and the new. If we could respect each other's perspectives, we might find a way to manage our wildlife that honors both traditional knowledge and modern science.
“A lot of the American and European conservation ideas, have been based on the idea that humans can only spoil wild places and that we don't have a place there. They disregarded the fact that people were native to these places. That’s why they originally removed natives from here. And they still are doing this around the globe, removing native people from these areas that they designate new conservation areas or parks or that sort of stuff.”
She uses the hotly debated dam removals currently occurring in Northern California as a talking point to this view: “The first thing that comes to mind is that it’s great. When the salmon come back, then we'll have them for food. But in the meanwhile, I also realize that this is affecting things like the water to grow food. How do you manage that?”
“I always feel we should be following the best available science for how to manage these animals. But then I think, how does that fit into my place? That is where I start to question; What do you really believe in your mind, Liz? Ultimately, the science allows you to have a choice in how you want to participate. It's hard for me sometimes to juggle the whole idea of science versus my own personal belief that all these lives are spiritual lives. I might not want to go kill a grizzly bear because for me traditionally that was not my place to ever kill a grizzly bear. I would never do that. But if it's right for somebody else and the species can support it then they can go do it and that's between them and the creator.”
TRY AS WE MIGHT, WE HAD NO PHOTO OF CLEVE MILLER TO PUT HERE. WE ARE COMPENSATING YOU WITH MORE PHOTOS OF TEDDY ROOSEVELT'S (LEFT SIDE ON THE WHITE HORSE) HOUND HUNTING ADVENTURES. PHOTO COURTESY OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.
Government Hunter
Cleve Miller’s Lifetime War on Predators in Early Arizona
“A
Man’s Lifetime Is Just Long Enough to Break One Mule and Train One Pack of Lion Dogs”
- Cleve Miller
From the time of European settlement until the late 1800’s the abundance of wildlife was taken for granted in North America –animals were shot or trapped for food, feathers, and hides. Wildlife species were pursued relentlessly until the late 1800’s, when some species like the buffalo were virtually eliminated. This destruction caused some individuals to become concerned about the diminishing numbers and felt that wildlife needed to be protected, or it would soon be gone. One such individual was Teddy Roosevelt, who through legislative and executive order, initiated programs to protect wildlife. The only problem was that all wildlife was not looked upon equally. Some animals such as deer, elk, and waterfowl were considered “good animals”, while predators such as wolves, mountain lions, and bears were cast as “bad” because they preyed on highly regarded species and livestock. As a result, it was assumed that to save the “good” we must get rid of the “bad”.
This attitude was exemplified by the livestock industry. As numbers of wildlife declined in the West, predators went in search of other food sources, namely domestic livestock. To reduce the loss, bounty systems to control predators were tried, but were not effective in reducing damage. Ranchers felt that full time hunters and trappers were needed if livestock predation was to be controlled, and that control should be paid for by the Federal Government. Some ranchers had to pay grazing fees to graze cattle on public lands and they felt they should get compensation. This sentiment reached the ears of Congress. Following this, on June 30th 1914, the U.S. Congress authorized the Predatory Animal and Rodent
Control (PARC) branch of the Biological Survey under the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Congress made PARC responsible for “experiments and demonstrations in destroying wolves, prairie dogs, and other animals injurious to agriculture and animal husbandry.” As a result, $125,000 was approved, resulting in 300 full time hunters and trappers being immediately hired at $75/month. These individuals became known as “government hunters.”
One such government hunter was Cleve Miller of Metcalf, Arizona. Cleve and his wife owned a ranch north of Metcalf, and like many of those hired by PARC, Cleve had experience in hunting, trapping, and living out-of-doors. Cleve’s expertise was primarily mountain lion hunting with hounds, but he could also set wolf and bear traps if necessary. Cleve, like his fellow government hunters, did not leave much of a written record of his work, but thanks to government oversight they were required to keep a daily log of their activities. Many years ago, I was fortunate enough to obtain Cleve’s logs spanning ten years of hunting. As one reads through these logs, one gets a sense of the effort and time individuals like Cleve put into their job. It was not unusual for him to work alone 250 to 300 days a year, travel 20 miles in a day, packing camp and supplies on horseback, and spending the night on a hillside when darkness overtook him and his hounds. In ten years of material, one year–1921–stands out and gives the reader a look into the life of a “government hunter.”
As January 1921 began, Cleve had already been away from home since November looking for lions north of Metcalf:
Jan 1st: Mid Gatlin and I hunted for lions. Saw old sign going north.
Since the lion sign was headed North Cleve also headed that way and two days later was 20 miles north on Blue River. He found signs of several lions in the area and on Jan 10th caught his first lions of the new year:
Jan 10: Shot after being treed by dogs lion female no 10. sc-calf. Treed by dogs and shot lion male no 11. sc calf.
Cleve kept a running numerical tally as he took each lion, bear, bobcat, and more. January 10th marked his tenth lion since starting work in November. By the end of the month, he would be up to number fifteen. By the end of the year, he had caught 42 lions. In order to justify their work PARC trappers and hunters were also required to check the stomach contents (sc) of each animal taken. In this case he found calf in each. As one reads through Cleve’s ten years of logs it is interesting to note that he never caught a mountain lion, wolf, or bear that did not have cattle remains in the stomach. Some PARC hunters and trappers falsified records to show they were protecting livestock, and this might be true.
Because his dogs periodically needed a rest Cleve did not hunt every day, but he still did not take a day off. On days off he might be moving camp, or as his January 23rd entry shows, doing other work-related tasks:
Jan 23: Shod horses. Also cleaned lion skulls.
Even though hunters such as Cleve were employed by the Federal Government, they were
also allowed to sell skulls and hides for extra money. There is no mention of what Cleve was getting for lion hides and skulls –but bears were bringing $25.00.
Cleve continued to hunt throughout February and the first of March found him 25 miles north of Metcalf. It was not only his job to hunt and kill lions but also to eliminate them from the area. This kept him busy since his district ran north of Clifton to the Mogollon Rim and from the San Carlos Indian Reservation to the New Mexico border. One way of accomplishing this task of elimination was to stay after an individual lion for days until he caught it, as his early March entries show:
March 2: Dogs trailed small lion all day. Couldn’t over take him
March 3: Worked this lion trail again.
March 4: Follow this small lion all day. Trail to old.
March 5: Trailed lion all day. Same small one I have been trailing for several days.
March 6: Picked up trail of this same lion. Shot after being treed by dogs. Lion female no.22 s.c. calf–skin saved
In situations where Cleve stayed after the same cat for days, he often did not return to camp each night as he didn’t want the animal to get too far away before the next morning. Instead he would stop where darkness overtook him, eat a little food that he carried with him, and sleep on a hillside using his saddle blankets for covers. He would then be up at daylight, put his hounds back on the track, and resume the hunt.
After finally catching this lion, Cleve then moved camp about 15 miles further north and started hunting on the east side of Blue River toward the New Mexico state line. It is here that he had a truly unique experience that consumed nine days of his time:
March 13: Dogs got after a Leopard ran him all day but could not stop him. I saw him once but owing to roughness of the country horse couldn’t overtake him
March 14: Went back and tried to trail the old Leopard but dogs were to sore footed and worn out to do anything
March 15: Let dogs rest. Shod horses. Went five miles after grain I had packed out from Clifton.
March 16: Hunted for Leopard. Saw no sign I could work.
March 17: Hunted same country
March 18: Cut for sign 10 miles NW for Leopard but no sign
March 19: Hunted with dogs. To dry to do much though I have this part of the country pretty clean.
March 20: Cut sign for old Leopard but no luck
March 21: Hunted for Leopard. Think he has gone to Rose Peak Country.
What Cleve saw was a Jaguar, which was never a very common sight in Arizona. He obviously pursued it for so many days because it would have been a real feather in his cap if he could have killed it. It also shows that no predator, no matter how rare, was immune to the war waged against them. This also held true for small predators that were little threat to deer, elk, or livestock as shown by his April 3rd entry on the San Carlos Indian Reservation.
April 3: Put out trap for large Lynx.
April 4: Went to trap but no sign. Shod horses
April 5: Hunted lion with dogs no sign
April 6: Went to trap had Lynx. Trapped Lynx no 25 male s.c. wild turkey. Saved skin.
Cleve called this cat a Lynx, but since lynx did not occur in Arizona it was undoubtedly a bobcat. By the end of the year he had taken four more bobcats, all treed by his dogs.
In early May Cleve was hunting on his own ranch –a fringe benefit of being a government hunter –since he got paid no matter where he was hunting. He had caught a lion on May 7th when he got a message to come to the Cosper Ranch on Blue River. He was in for quite a surprise when he got there:
May 8: Moved to Cosper’s range in Stray Horse where Cosper’s report a big brown bear killing cattle.
May 9: Went in search of big brown bear. Lots of little black bear sign.
May 10: Black bear tracks plentiful. Had trouble keeping dogs off of them.
May 11: Lost part of my dogs after a black bear. I followed them all day but could not stop them.
May 12: Found where old brown bear had killed a cow. Would not let dogs trail him. Put out trap for him.
May 13: Left dogs in camp. Old Brownie had come back but was to wise to get in trap.
May 14: Worked on wire fence to keep my horses from going home
May 15: Brownie came back but would not be trapped.
May 16: Left dogs in camp as I am going to try them after old Brownie if can’t trap him.
May 17: Left dogs in camp to check trap again. Bear had not been back.
May 18: Put dogs on the trail of old Brownie. Ran him about 15 miles. Shot at him 12 times finally killed after being bayed by dogs. Bear no 28 male s.c. cow. Hide and skin saved.
Old Brownie, as Cleve called him, was actually a grizzly bear. It was one of the last to be killed in Arizona. After killing the bear, he spent the next couple of days packing in the hide and cleaning the skull. He let his dogs rest, shod his horses and mules, and on May 22nd was lion hunting again. It was then that he had another run in with the Leopard.
May 24: Rode till 5 p.m. Horse was tired. Dogs jumped Leopard. I followed them until dark. My horse gave out. Dogs stopped Leopard I am sure. They came into camp next day.
May 25: Went back and tried to trail the Leopard but he was clear out of the country. Dogs were worn out too.
May 26: Hunted in same part of country. No sign.
May 27: Hunted in same part of country. Thought the Leopard might have come back.
This was Cleve’s last chance at a Jaguar. He never knew where it went as he never encountered its sign again.
Following the Jaguar incident, Cleve then moved closer to Metcalf to try and catch yet
another kind of animal - a wolf. By 1920, wolves were getting rather scarce in Arizona, but PARC had declared they would hunt them ‘till there were none left. That meant if any government hunter saw sign of one it was top priority to try and kill it. Cleve was more a hunter than a trapper but when he saw sign 25 miles NW of Metcalf he immediately set traps.
June 1: Put out trap for Lobo wolf that found sign of.
June 2: Put out 4 more traps for wolf. Scent bait
June 3: Rode traps line. None of them had been visited
June 4: Rode traps line. Moved two traps to another place
DR. LAMBERT, ONE OF TEDDY ROOSEVELT'S TRAVEL PARTNERS GETTING READY TO TAKE A SHOT ON A BEAR HUNTING EXPEDITION IN 1905.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
June 5: Rode trap line found where wolves had killed a calf
June 6: Shot after being trapped. Wolf Female no 29. s.c. calf skin saved.
This wolf was one of only 35 wolves taken in Arizona in 1921 by “government hunters.” Cleve continued to check his traps for eight more days in hopes of getting the mate to this female wolf but without success.
Even though the grizzly bear was a big prize, black bears were not immune to being killed, especially if they were thought to be killing livestock. On July 2nd an Arthur Hall reported one calf killed by a bear. Cleve immediately moved 35 miles north to set out a trap line and to hunt bears with his hounds. For eight days he checked his traps and tried to find the bear with his dogs, but the bear seemed to have vanished. Then on July 12th it returned with serious consequences.
July 12: Rode South trap line. Bear had been back but would not go in trap. Trailed him all day with dogs.
July 13: Took up trail of same bear. Shot after crippling 4 dogs. Bear female no 31 s.c. beef. Sold hide for $25.00.
July 14: Went to my ranch to take two of the worst crippled dogs.
Hunting large carnivores with dogs was always risky as lions or bears could seriously cripple or even kill good hounds. In this case, Cleve’s dogs apparently survived, but any expenses incurred –like veterinary bills –had to come out of his own pocket.
In August, Cleve moved his camp to the Maple Peak area 35 miles north of Clifton. His success showed the determination that government hunters put into
the job of eliminating predators. He hunted the area throughout August, catching only one lion. Day after day, he rode the country with his hounds finding nothing to hunt. On Aug 30th, he headed back to his ranch leaving this comment in his report.
"Many people are appalled by the persecution government hunters put on predators during the early part of the 20th century, but one must remember that people such as Cleve Miller were simply doing a job"
Aug 30: Finished riding this piece of country. Am leaving it fairly clean.
By “clean” he meant he had eliminated lions left in the area, so he headed home to get his equipment, dogs and horses ready to hunt in a different part of his district. He would then hunt a different area until he eliminated all the lions, or until he was notified by a rancher of a lion or bear killing livestock in another area. Any lion he found was considered to be a “stock killer,” but not so with black bears. His job was to protect a rancher’s livestock from predators, but with bears he sometimes needed proof.
September 19: Saw lots of bear sign. Tried to find what they were feeding on.
September 20: Trailed bear. Don’t think they are doing any damage to stock or game.
Up until this point, Cleve and been hunting almost continually for nine months. He made occasional trips back to his ranch for supplies and to mail in his reports. Primarily, however, he camped out alone. It was in early October that he finally took a break of nineteen days.
As a government hunter, Miller was under the supervision of M. E. Musgrave, the Biological Survey Predatory Animal Inspector for Arizona. It was Musgrave’s job to oversee the work being done by the various hunters and trappers in Arizona, getting out in the field with them whenever possible. He visited Miller in mid-October and brought with him the Assistant Inspector, K. P. Pickrell, and a Rush Gilpin. It’s obvious Clive wanted to impress the boss, so he took them to Hot Air Canyon 45 miles north of Metcalf that he had not hunted for a while.
October 20: Moved camp to Hot Air. Accompanied by M. E. Musgrave K.P. Pickrell and Rush Gilpin. Dogs found lion sign.
October 21: Found where lion had killed deer. Shot after being treed by dogs. Lion female no 38. s.c. deer. Saved skin.
Government hunters not only wanted to impress Musgrave with their ability, but it was essential to their employment. To determine if each hunter or trapper was doing their job, Musgrave had developed a point system based on the type of animal and how many each hunter took. Fox were a half point, bobcats and coyotes one, bear ten, and lions and wolves fifteen. Each month Musgrave wanted to see each hunter have
a score of at least fifteen, and if they hit the mark, they were put on his honor roll. If a hunter did not consistently get fifteen points a month his employment was terminated. The ten years of Miller’s records show he made Musgraves’s honor roll virtually every month.
Miller did not work the month of November. In his notes he gives no reason –but since he owned his own ranch, he was probably busy taking care of his own livestock. However, he was back hunting on December 1st for a bear that was killing cattle. He caught the bear on December 8th and then went back to lion hunting.
December 24: Shot after being treed lion no 42 s.c. calf. Saved skin.
Late December found Miller hunting on the San Carlos Indian Reservation. His late December
entries show how seriously he took his job. Miller had moved his camp to the Reservation on December 14. He quickly started hunting lions on the 15th and continued until Christmas Eve when he caught lion number 42. His entries do not show that he worked Christmas Day or the two days afterwards, but since he was 45 miles from home it’s doubtful he made it back to his ranch for Christmas. Journal entries from other years show that when he was hunting at Christmas, he usually spent the day with the owner of the ranch on which he was hunting. In some cases, he also only took Christmas Day off and was back hunting the day after. Cleve continued hunting the last few days of the year, without taking New Year’s Day off. He continued hunting in a similar fashion for at least the next ten years.
Miller never again encountered his Jaguar, but it was still a very
successful year in that he was able to take a grizzly bear and one of only 35 wolves taken by PARC hunters in Arizona that year. He also took 42 mountain lions, 5 black bear, 5 bobcats, a coyote, and a fox in his 263 days of hunting, and was on Musgraves’s honor roll every month he hunted. Many people are appalled by the persecution government hunters put on predators during the early part of the 20th century, but one must remember that people such as Cleve Miller were simply doing a job. They were mandated to protect both domestic livestock and wildlife, doing the job as best as they knew. They were good people. In many cases –as larger predators began to disappear –they regretted their loss, realizing with many others that predators play an important role in the environment.
@Shauntel Stark Har tzo
Tales from the Trail
The Autumn Oaks Experience
Ihave always loved traveling to various hound events. Travel season is the time of year when I get to put faces to the voices I've had the pleasure of knowing over the years. This year marked my third trip to Autumn Oaks, and just like the last two, it was fantastic. It was wonderful to see so many of our readers, writers, and friends. Meeting the people whose writings have graced the pages of Full Cry Magazine is a truly humbling experience. Thank you to everyone who has been the lifeblood of this publication for decades and, hopefully, for decades to come.
BY JASON DUBY
PHOTOS
When we originally planned this trip, Dani was supposed to come with me, but it just wasn’t in the cards. Instead, we decided to fill our extra plane seat with a cameraman! I'd like to thank Talon Sherer for being just crazy enough to jump on a plane, bunk with a bunch of guys he'd never met, and trudge through beanfields, briars, and thunderstorms to capture great footage of the hounds and houndsmen that make this event so special. Talon got an inside look into the people and the dogs that define our sport, and I can tell you all, you did not disappoint! He came to Richmond with zero hunting experience of any kind, after four days of roaming the grounds, filming interviews, and experiencing what it’s like to cut a dog into the
darkness, he got a pretty good crash course in the coonhound world. If that wasn’t enough to paint the picture, our roommates made sure to give him plenty of additional study notes.
A huge thank you to Ben Sheets and Steve Fielder for the great accommodations, conversation, and fellowship during our time together. Last year, Ben brought his father to help promote his own “Tree Talkin’ Media” along with Full Cry Magazine when Dani and I couldn’t attend. This year, he managed to drag him back again, and boy, was I glad! Thank you, Ben, for manning the booth when we overslept after a night of hunting, handing out flyers, and making sure our bellies were full. You are welcome in my camp anytime!
If only everyone could see the side of us we see in each other—a group of people who pay respect to their past, invest in their future, and give thanks for the present. I’m not going to say the trip wasn’t exhausting, but more than anything, it was refreshing. Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but it would take much more than that to capture the full spirit of the coonhound community. I encourage any of you to make the trip, but until you do, these pictures will have to suffice. Thank you to UKC for having us and always making us feel welcome. My only request is that you find out who brought that horrible heat with them and kindly ask them to leave it at home next year!
www.markzepp.com
Last Days of the Winter Classic MARK ZEPP WITH
Idon’t remember the year, but it was the last time the UKC Winter Classic was held in Albany, GA (pronounced Albiny by southern folks). The south, in the winter months, is a beautiful place… once the heat arrives, in the swamp country anyway, the place where we turn dogs loose, the hellishness of the bugs and snakes and gators come to life and, well, for me anyway, it becomes a tough place to be.
But the folks who live down there, they are pretty great all year round, and the Jimmy Buffet lifestyle of music, beaches, boats, and maybe a pretty girl mixed in make it a special place for all who live there to call it home.
As happens in life, as I see it anyway, one begins to take many of the most important people or relationships in their life for granted. Albany, which was a staple of charm and success in the Jimmy Carter era, began to look tattered. I know the plantations are beautiful and many of the wealthiest people in the world have land in the area, but the fairgrounds, they were weathered. That is my take on it anyway, I could be wrong, I have no inside knowledge but there is much to be said for nice, up to date, clean looking facilities for featured, prestigious events and folks working and traveling far from home, who use vacation time, like towns with nice restaurants and hotels close by. I spent many years working and hunting around Albany and have the very best of memories of the when the Winter Classic was held there, GREAT memories of the town, the people
and the charm but I was not surprised when the Winter Classic moved to Batesville, MS.
That last year the Winter Classic was in Albany, on Saturday afternoon, an older gentleman walked the fairgrounds. I would venture to say very few, if anyone, recognized him… but he had become a dear friend of mine. After leaving Wick Outdoor Works and moving to Tucson, AZ to begin my time with Tri-Tronics I began shooting even photography and video for them. When the PKC World Hunt was in Aroura, KY I went over to visit the famous bird dog trainer, Ferrel Miller. I was never a “bird dog man” per se, but anyone who knew anything about bird dogs new of the famous Miller’s Chief.
I remember driving over to his place very early in the morning and on the way pulling over to the
side of the road. There was smoke coming from the top of a barn and I thought it must be on fire. As I sat there wondering if I should go knock on the door and wake these folks up I noticed something odd... it looked like all of the barns in the area were on fire as there seemed to be smoke coming out of them. “It must be the fog or something” I said to myself and I drove on.
I met Ferrel and it was the first of many trips to his place. He drove me around the country side and told me that area of Kentucky was world famous for the burley tobacco grown in the area and we pulled in the drive of a friend of a friend’s place. He got out and they explained intricacies and how labor intensive it was to grow and produce a tobacco crop and that once hung in the barn, there were pits on the ground floor where fires were started and the smoke was used to dry out the tobacco.
Ferrel looked at me and said, “Mark, you can’t imagine all of the fools who drive through the countryside around here and knock on these farmers doors to tell them their barn is on fire!”
Hmmm, I thought to myself, “This guy has only known me a few hours and he already has me figured out.”
I LOVE THIS PHOTO AND IS ONE OF A DOZEN OR SO ALL-TIME FAVORITES OF MINE. I THINK I HAD TERRY WALKER SNAP THE PICTURE. AS A KID I DREAMED OF BEING WELL KNOWN IN THE SPORTING DOG WORLD AND HERE I WAS WITH MY GOOD FRIEND AND WORLD-FAMOUS BIRD DOG MAN, THE GREAT FERREL MILLER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PHOTO AND MY CHILDHOOD HERO JOHN WICK ON THE FAR RIGHT. IT WAS SOME KIND OF A SPECIAL MOMENT FOR ME!
The Tree Dog Doc
TAYLOR YOUNG, DVM
When to Go to the Vet... and When to (Maybe) Stay Home
Has your dog ever made a loop through the woods, only to come back three-legged lame? How about having him get out of the briars with blood covering every inch of his head and mouth? Have you ever opened up the kennel in the morning to find the floor covered in vomit? These are all real scenarios I’ve been faced with, and I’m betting many of you can relate with numerous examples of your own. The next question then becomes: can I deal with this myself, or do I need to take him to the vet? Hopefully, I can help you with some general guidelines as you make the decision for yourself.
First, a disclaimer: when in doubt, go to your vet. It’s far better to err on the side of caution than to wait things out until a disaster is on your hands. Although it can be frustrating to pay for a visit only to be told “he’s fine!” I can tell you that it’s much better than the owners who’ve said to me “I wish I hadn’t waited so long.” There is an ethical obligation as an animal owner to prevent unnecessary pain and suffering, and your dog’s only option for help is you. I can also tell you that, generally, problems handled early in the course of disease usually end up costing you less than delayed treatment.
Although this should not be the driving force of your decision, you also need to consider the potential legal implications. A high school agriculture teacher was recently arrested and charged with animal cruelty for instructing her students to pin down an awake, unsedated cat so they could place staples over an incision on its stomach. In Virginia, where I live, it’s considered cruelty to animals to not bring your pet in when it requires emergency veterinary treatment. Make a decision that reflects well on you and the hunting community at large.
It’s probably easiest to start with times you should, without a doubt, go straight to the vet. These are true emergencies that can either be life threatening, permanently debilitating, or cause immense pain and suffering. This is NOT an exhaustive list, so again, if in doubt, call or go to your vet!
Difficulty breathing, such as continued coughing, loud breathing, stretching out the neck, or using the abdomen to push air out
Unconsciousness or abnormal mentation (acting confused, staggering, sudden onset of apparent blindness)
• Uncontrollable bleeding
• Obvious fractures (limbs held at an odd angle, obvious bone broken through the skin)
• Open wounds that expose organs
• Inability to urinate or defecate
• Heatstroke or hypothermia
• Known ingestion of toxic substances
• Severe eye injuries
• White or yellow gums
"There is an ethical obligation as an animal owner to prevent unnecessary pain and suffering, and your dog’s only option for help is you"
What about the things that might resolve themselves? The most important place to start is to look at the whole dog. Is he eating, drinking, urinating and defecating? Does he seem bright, alert, and responsive? A dog who has one small problem but is acting otherwise normal might be able to wait if he’s showing signs such as:
• Limping on a limb that’s only evident when running and only for a few hours
• One episode of vomiting or diarrhea with a continued desire to eat and drink
• Minor cuts or scrapes that have quickly stop bleeding and are superficial and clean
• Small areas of swelling that aren’t over a joint
• Scratching or licking excessively
• Increased peeing and drinking
Some of these problems may be one and done or resolve quickly. Just like us, animals can get a minor injury or stomach bug that doesn’t require a trip to the hospital. Things that don’t resolve quickly may not need a weekend emergency vet trip but require a next-day visit with your primary veterinarian.
It really helps during these instances to have an established relationship with a veterinarian. If you are an established client with a valid veterinary-clientpatient relationship (VCPR), your veterinarian can discuss things over a short phone call, text, or email and help you decide if you need to come in. As busy as practices are these days, they will usually try and avoid having you come in if they think it can wait or is not serious. They may also have to direct you to an urgent or emergency care practice if they are too booked to see them. If they think it’s appropriate, they may also choose to prescribe medications for you to pick up without a visit. Pain meds, antibiotics for a minor wound, antidiarrheals or anti-nausea meds are all things I have prescribed for pickup in many instances. However, if you have never been to the vet with the dog, they cannot legally do this, and you will be required to come in person.
Another newer option available to dog owners is a veterinary telehealth visit. Multiple online companies now provide the option
to call and video chat with a licensed veterinarian. These don’t replace a full-service veterinary visit, but a quick discussion about your specific scenario can help you decide whether or not you need to make an in-person visit. Depending on your state and prescribing rules, some can even prescribe basic medications that can be picked up at your local pharmacy or shipped to your door.
Are there any instances where you can, without a shadow of a doubt, avoid a vet visit? These are few and far between. I have certainly tended toward the “wait and see” approach, only to have been shocked to find out something more sinister was going on. I once saw a middle-aged dog that the owner claimed was “off.” He wasn’t showing any particular signs of illness. He was still eating, going on walks, and interacting, but his
owner said his attitude just wasn’t the same. I did a full physical exam and a full set of bloodwork. All was well. I sent him home and said to come back if anything changed. They brought him back 5 days later, saying nothing had gotten worse, but he wasn’t any better, either. I offered to do some imaging of his chest and abdomen. To my shock and dismay, an x-ray and ultrasound of his abdomen showed a large tumor on his spleen. The owner was exactly right; he wasn’t well, and after talking through the options, they decided on euthanasia.
I don’t share this story to scare you into going to the vet anytime your dog looks at you cross-eyed. I say this to make sure you trust your instincts. If you think something isn’t right, listen to that voice in your head. Maybe that means you just pay close attention to how much he’s eating and drinking, or to
his attitude; maybe you make a call or text in to your vet getting their advice; or maybe you go ahead and schedule an appointment.
All that said, there are a few instances I can think of that are very unlikely to require vet intervention. A very common one for hunting dogs is a cut on the tongue. The tongue has a large blood supply, and even a minor cut can bleed like crazy. If their tongue is hanging out running, their entire head may be covered in blood, which will probably give you a good scare the first time you see it! However, because of that good blood supply, they will also generally clot very fast and stop bleeding. They can occasionally be bad enough to require stitches, but in general, as long as the active bleeding stops within a few minutes, you’re usually all clear.
Another are foot issues. Sore feet, pad abrasions, or even small cuts can make them look like they’ve got a broken leg. Look your dog over well and see if you can find a source. If you can say for sure it’s in the foot, most foot issues are just going to have to heal on their own. Lay them up in a small kennel or crate where they can’t pace around or get dirty, and prevent them from licking it with a plastic cone (no, dog spit doesn’t have magical healing properties). Bandages usually won’t stay in place anyway and balms and salves generally won’t speed anything up either. A mild prescription pain medication for dogs, such as carprofen (Rimadyl), can help increase their comfort and decrease the inflammation. If it’s not rapidly improving, a more thorough exam and/or x-ray may be necessary to look for a fracture or foreign body (thorn, stick, etc.).
Hopefully, these can give you a place to start the next time you're trying to make the call of a vet visit or not. I’ll say it one more time: when in doubt, call or go! Often, though, a little common sense, or a quick chat with your trusted vet, can help you figure out if a little time will heal that wound.
Raising Hell with the Denim Devil
Tail backlit by the afternoon sun, the young grey tumbles earthward end-over-end like a tightly bound newspaper tossed from a slow moving mini-van. Before ever colliding with terra firma, I know that the 40 grain bullet has hit its mark simply by the way my quarry has plummeted from her perch high within the gnarled branches of white oak.
BY G.T. HOWELL
Hit a squirrel anywhere except the noggin and the little rascals are likely to scamper into a knot hole or, even more frustrating, expire in the crook of a tree plainly in sight but hopelessly out of reach. Not so with a headshot; no dangling or darting, only a series of distinguishable summersaults towards earth.
Denim isn’t taking any chances. Having followed the squirrel’s final descent, he immediately scoops her up from the brittle leaf litter and satisfies any doubts regarding my accuracy with a few violent shakes. Part of me relishes in witnessing Denim’s unrelenting desire to finish game, while another portion feels a bit uneasy about his methods and dedication to the matter.
Leaning over, he brings the limp, young of the year sow to me with a mouth as soft as any Arkansas Labrador and I briefly examine my bullet placement before sliding her into my stained pouch. I pat Denim’s head, the likes of which favors a mature bruin’s skull, and silently send him off with a motion of the hand.
My career in sales and everexpanding family necessitate I escort many new or inexperienced hunters afield each year and, for the most part, it is a labor of love. While wild bobwhite hunting, most guests will politely ask a few general questions about the rail-thin white dogs coursing through the native grasses or along distant fencerows.
When a covey is made, polite patrons complement the grace and beauty of my pointers as they walk in for the flush. However, by hunts end, few neither remember the dogs’ names nor wish to rub the ribsprung workers for a job well done before they’re loaded back into the box with bloodied tail
tips and a hide full of embedded briars. Though I award praise equally amongst any canine spending time within my ranks, there is something about the utilitarian build and demeanor of a pointer that doesn’t seem to assist in them garnering attention from outsiders.
"A heavily brindled coat disguises Denim’s brutish silhouette from a distance, but up close the pattern of brown, blue, and ashy gray is striking"
On the other hand, folks seek to stroke the Denim Devil like a buzzed posse of twelfth grade girls clutching purses full of emptied wine cooler bottles waiting outside of Blake Shelton’s tour bus. Denim has magnetism. Though he tolerates the veneration of most admirers, I recognize the detached, callous gaze he gives those who yearn so much to merely feel his powerful frame. Even I, his sole partner and greatest enthusiast since Denim’s 43rd day on this Earth, find him distant and oftentimes aloof outside of our beloved woodlands.
A tinge of lonesomeness settles over me while surveying the dull February woods. Standing atop the ridgeline on an old skidder trail, I’m still bathed in the setting sun, but the shaded valleys obscured from diminishing rays bestow a sense of melancholy only possible during the deepest depths of winter. Autumn’s hues have long since surrendered and not
even the slightest sign of spring is yet to show. Months back a buck had ambled down the same logging road, his calling card a continuous line of anemic sumac trees that will wear the scars of his aggression for the remainder of their relatively short lives. I’m pondering whether he made it through Kentucky’s manic rifle season, optimistically thinking I may stumble upon a shed antler, when the silence is shattered by an abrupt series of barks that roll through the hollows like a midnight locomotive dissecting a rural highway amid the glows of flashing red bulbs.
My counterpart is not far, possibly 150 yards, his declaration loud enough for me to reliably pinpoint his location without reaching for the Garmin receiver in my pack. From the cadence, pitch, and volume of his sharp chops, I can discern without doubt that he has another squirrel pinned. Just as a musician intimately identifies the timbre of his instrument, in or out of tune, I understand the subtleties of the Denim Devil’s mouth.
I won’t be hiking to find him treeing up a perforated beech tree harboring the squirrel within its hollow bowels; this squirrel is dead to rights and Denim plans to see it to an end. His chorus bounces between the ridges, and not until I see the bright orange ring of his collar can I detect exactly which side of the crest he is on. Fortunately, Denim is on the South facing slope, the sundrenched side where depressions in the leaf litter reveal oblong whitetail beds underfoot. My rubber boots lose purchase twice as I angle downhill towards the lithe canine bawling heavenward. Denim glances at
me momentarily with his eerie golden eyes before putting his front feet back against the coarse base of the shagbark hickory and hammering out a series of deafening proclamations.
A heavily brindled coat disguises Denim’s brutish silhouette from a distance, but up close the pattern of brown, blue, and ashy gray is striking. Muscles shift and tremor beneath his taught hide with every bark and the short length of tail spared by the breeder’s pocket knife on day 2 of Denim’s existence flags rapidly. The edges of Denim’s mouth sport a frosting of slobber from his rapid output of barks and the Garmin in my pocket vibrates time and again, an unnecessary distraction, indicating Denim has treed.
As with any game, one searches for a piece of their quarry amid its surroundings, not the entire
being. A minute ear, shifting tail, gleaming eye, everything must be taken into consideration when dissecting a towering tree hoping to discern a reticent 20 oz. rodent. The shagbark has a motley smattering of stubborn, tobacco-colored leaves remaining, which is why the squirrel chose this particular retreat among its choice of a seemingly endless stretch of timber.
If not for Denim’s thunderous barks, I could probably hear the dry, jagged leaves rustle in the breeze as thermals slowly drift downward towards the wet-weather seep intersecting the fold below. Hand flattened against my brow to filter the Sun out of my eyes, I creep around the tree in a circular fashion scanning every fork and limb from trunk to tip. Denim steps back off the tree, still ringing my ears with chops emanating from deep within his broad chest.
I shuffle my bargain boots another step to the left and a piece of the tree moves slightly above an upward sweeping limb the size of my bicep. Casually, I ease the little Remington Fieldmaster to my right shoulder and peer down the 3x9 scope. Denim notices the gun readied, stops barking mid chop, and peers anxiously at me with part of his lip tucked comically above the gum line as if he’s smirking. I recognize the raptorlike black toenails of a squirrel through the scope, only a solitary foot showing.
“I see him, you’ve got him,” I hiss to Denim in order to get his vocals going again in hopes of shifting the squirrel to my side the tree. The encouragement helps; Denim swings down to the tree’s lower elevation, briefly runs his coal-black nose along the silver, peeling, trunk and shouts skyward. The grey form carefully inches my way at Denim’s insistence. Left hand tightened on the corn cob of the slide, I place the center of the reticle just behind the eyeball and squeeze a round off.
The standard velocity round makes more of a “sigh” than a “crack”, but neither myself nor Denim hear the satisfactory “thump” of lead striking fur. Irritated, and maybe a touch concerned, Denim proceeds to a heightened level of intensity when our target doesn’t collapse. I calmly shuck the spent brass from the Fieldmaster, glance back up the tree with my naked eyes and re-shoulder the diminutive rifle’s butt into the crease of my stiff Carhartt coat. Resolute, the grey hasn’t stirred in the least. Once again, I frame his cranium in the magnified crosshairs, exhaling slowly just before pressuring my right index finger against the worn trigger. Through the scope I see the
momentary shudder of the grey’s straightened tail and know this time my aim has been true.
The squirrel shows no residual signs of life, yet Denim pounces and shakes the squirrel for his own deviant pleasure prior to delivery. I immediately flip the squirrel over and am relieved to see that it is, indeed, a breeding aged male, not a mature female heavy with a litter on the way. During the final weeks of the lengthy 6-month season, I harvest just enough to keep Denim in tune and my father in squirrel stew, as I am apprehensive that I’ll knock out a female which has delivered early.
Though I handle well over 100 grey squirrels per year, I never let my familiarity with them overshadow their beauty. This particular boar is rimmed with an above average amount of russet in his coat, prompting me to study him for an extended period prior to deposit into my pouch which becomes somewhat burdensome with the addition of a fourth bushytail.
The Garmin places my truck at four tenths of a mile from the shagbark’s sprawling base, a deceiving straight line estimate from the increasingly cool hollow where Denim and I stand relishing the final rays of sunlight. Our trek out will be nearly twice that distance across undulating southern Kentucky knobs. Casting a lengthy shadow, my bull of a mountain cur is at attention scanning the opposing ridge for evidence of a foraging squirrel robbing its cache before the bleakness of nightfall.
Considering prime time is upon us, we could likely tree another 2 squirrels to round out our limit with relative ease. Instead, I take
a knee and softly whistle Denim over. Keen enough to know that this signals the end of our actual hunting, he reluctantly lopes over and sits next to me with the same enthusiasm he would if I were one of the nearby outcroppings of sandstone.
By this point in our relationship, I’ve long given up on the hope for a post-hunt Norman Rockwell moment where the dog rests his head on a thigh and gazes deeply into his owner’s eyes with esteem. The Denim Devil’s distant temperament is
analogous to the hardscrabble hills we hunt; beautiful and reserved yet inexplicably unsettling at times. Both he and I are descendants of these pleats in the rural landscape, our personalities, physiques, and DNA reflecting generations of leanness. Therein rests our perfect partnership, a stoic canine that needs this rough country to fulfill his purpose and a hunter who needs his companionship to purposefully take to the rugged landscape to feel complete himself.
Hounds in Heaven
Reflections on Love, Loss, & Loyalty
BY TARA CARDINAL
As I lay here on this stormy fall night listening to 13-yearold Cyanide Dot sleeping soundly beside me, I realize she is so much more than just a washed up old coondog. In the last two years she has been my coach, teacher, mentor, nurse, and best friend.
She was never too busy, tired, pre-occupied or distracted, tuned in to completely taking every step I do – by my side whether we are headed up the Blue Ridge Mountains to hunt or to the kitchen for a midnight snack. My best hunting buddy, Nathan, and I giggle as we cut her to hunt, as he often likens her to a potbellied pig with her remarkable, hilarious gait.
She is too heavy, full of cancer in her back two mammary glands, but is loyal as the day is long, always pushing to go even at her age. Cyanide Dot will always be a competition coonhound in her mind... and I feel a sense of loss fall over me when I think of the inevitable. Living’s as natural as dying.
“Do Hounds go to Heaven?” I ask myself. Despite not being made in God's image... I cannot imagine that He who teaches mostly about Love would not have our hunting partners and sidekicks with us on those streets of gold. Most theology experts would say no, but I think of the descriptions of the Garden of Eden—a place said to have mimicked Heaven's beauty and indeed was home to the animals as well as Adam and Eve.
Think of Noah, building his Ark instructed by God to ensure the safety of a pair of every animal species. It symbolizes salvation through Jesus Christ, our Savior. The good argument can be made that we will indeed be with our Hounds in Heaven as they are part of a Love that we've known along with a pattern we have weaved in our lives.
In closing, I give a special homage to my beautiful Mama's bird dog, Bud. He died this this week at the age of 16, was nearly deaf and blind with renal failure. Like his lifetime owner, my stepdad Marc, Bud was a wise ole boy with a bark that was as rough as his bite. He'd been trained on a bird preserve in Georgia and made his way to hunt here in Virginia farm and horse country.
He was a best friend and companion to my elderly Mama after the passing of his owner, Marc Fleischmann. Marc was my stepdad who actually was the very first houndsman to tell me about Full Cry many years ago now. One of our most rare heartfelt moments was when he read my first published article in the magazine, right before he succumbed to brain cancer.
I could tell he was truly proud of me and my hound hunting accomplishments in a short time. So, here's to Bud, the bird hound. I pray you are running after those quail alongside your Master... neither of you are in pain any longer.
FOR SALE
PUPS FROM ACHA-BGA WORLD CHAMPION JOHNSON BACKWOODS MOLLY
This is the second cross of these two hounds. I sold the pups from the first cross and Richard Ward of Mississippi bought the last one which I had planned to keep for myself. He liked the first one he bought so well. His phone number is 601-422-8417. You can call him to see how he likes his.
The price of these pups is $1000 each. I’ll guarantee you’ll like one if you get one. I plan to keep a male and a female from this litter for my breeding program.
I still have a couple pups from the litter I made the cross between King and Stylish Molly. If you are looking for a pair of real good hounds of their caliber, they are plenty good enough for a breeding program and they will treat all the coon you want to kill or carry. Check page 70 of the June July Full Cry for more information.
FINLEY RIVER DUKE
AT STUD
‘PR’ FINLEY RIVER SHAZAM
NITECH Finley River Sudden Sam
CH ‘PR’ Jackson’s Tree Talkin Champ
CH. ‘PR’ Finley River Jill
GRCH ‘PR’ Finley River Buddy
NITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Blue Mt. Finley R. Lonnie
NITECH CH ‘PR’ Mears Finley River Sally
PR’ Spivey’s Mona
GRCH ‘PR” Finley River JLR Country
NITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Blue Mt. Finley R. Lonnie
NITECH ‘PR’ Finely River Jack
PR’ Finley River Hardtwist Nell
PR’ Finley River Missy
CH ‘PR’ Jackson’s Tree Talkin Champ
NITECH CH ‘PR’ Finley River Babe
PR’ Silver Dollar Babe
PR’ Finley River Shazam
GRNITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Finley River Nite Hawk
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Finley River Boomer
PR’ Baremore’s Finely River Trickle
PR’ Finley River Smoke
PR’ Finley River Hawk
PR’ J&J Judy
PR’ River Bottom Babs
PR’ Finley River Smoking Jane
GRNITECH’PR’ Ball’s Stylish Hickory Nut Harry
PR’ Swallows Salt Cr Tuff
PR’ Shack’s Dixie
PR’ Stonehill Finley River Jenny
GRNITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Mears Finley R. Zoom
PR’ Finley River Molly
Shazam is one of the best bred Finley River hounds in the United States. If you are wanting to get back to some of the best Sonny Boy and Finley River Chief blood there is in the world. You’ll like what you see in the offspring of this hound. Pups are outstanding with looks and attitude.
The breeding fee for Shazam is $500.00 and the pup price is $500.00. Both fees will not stay that low for to long. I will make sure that you get your money’s worth if you invest in this hound.
CH NITECH’PR’ Grand River Candy JOHN J. MONROE
The Enemy of My Enemy
A Call to Unite for Survival
The hour is late, and our enemy is at the door. The enemy in this case is anyone or any group that wants to take our ability to free-cast a hound from us. There is no reason here to name the enemy. The name doesn’t matter. What matters is that in every state, there are people aligned with one goal in mind –they intend to do everything possible to take our way of life from us. They lie. They use propaganda. They run on emotion and not fact. Their desire to destroy us is almost far beyond a political cause. It’s more than just personal opinion to them.
BY T.L. JONES
As anti-hunting animal rights extremists, they are more like a group with a cultish, twisted religion on a bloody crusade to wipe out the heretics who disagree with their religion. There is no changing them – they are brainwashed like those who followed Jim Jones. For decades, the enemy has sought out the most vulnerable among us. They look for states that they deem easier to manipulate. For the time being, they avoid the states that are more resistant to their tactics. Wherever they find weakness, they attack. They have no truth. They ignore science. Wildlife management is meaningless to them. Their cultlike mindset only allows them to act as thoughtless hordes.
They worked their voodoo on the West Coast, taking freedoms in California, Oregon, and Washington. They’ve seen incremental success in other states. At this moment, they’ve descended upon Colorado like buzzards circling above a carcass, aiming to outlaw lion and bobcat hunting. Colorado, they assume, is ripe for the picking. It’s a predominantly blue state with millions of voters who live detached from the reality of wild things. The enemy hopes the voters of Colorado can be duped into acting against Scripture (Genesis 9:2), against science, against proven wildlife management practices, and against common sense.
If we, as Houndsmen, are to survive this cultish religious crusade, we will have to unite as one mind, one force, and one people. Every man, woman, and boy that ever hopes to free-cast a dog again in Colorado needs to be all in for winning this current fight. And every Houndsman in the world, especially in the United States, needs to rally to help our fellow Houndsmen who are under assault. If they lose, we
"For too long, we’ve allowed them to attack the vulnerable states. Every last one of us needs to fix it so that there are no vulnerable states"
lose. If they win, we win. This is no time for indifference. This is no time for apathy. We need to send these animal-worshipping cultists a message that from now on, when you pick on one state, you pick on all of us.
For too long, we’ve allowed them to attack the vulnerable states. Every last one of us needs to fix it so that there are no vulnerable states. Houndsmen need each other. And we need each other right now! As our forefathers were accustomed to saying – Unite or Die! I choose to unite. If Houndsmen across America, and other dog hunters, join together to fight the antihunters, we have the numbers, money, and will to win. This is not a hopeless cause. In states where Houndsmen got an early start, built strong organizations, and built war chests full of legal defense money, they have won battle after battle. Wisconsin, Michigan, and Virginia have seen tremendous victories, but it took men with like minds and great hearts to do it. It can be done in every state if all states join together.
Uniting Houndsmen isn’t always easy. It takes a certain kind of person to hound hunt. A Houndsman, a good one, has to have grit. They are often loners, hardheaded, and stubborn. And
honestly, there is an element within the hound hunting community that doesn’t trust government or organizations of any type at all. I grew up in Appalachia, so I can relate to all of the above. It’s true when I say that a lot of Houndsmen just don’t play well with others. Some of these traits of independence and self-reliance are exactly what make Houndsmen some of the very best people still left in America. They are what their forefathers were – the kind of men who built America. The negative to this is we often don’t get along well with each other.
We rib each other about breeds of dogs. We squabble over hunting grounds. It drives us nuts on opening day of the season to see trucks roll in from out of state and dump on top of us. Anger seethes through our veins when some truly unethical dog hunter does something stupid and makes us all look like idiots to the public. The list of reasons that we don’t always get along with each other is long. It ranges from personal to principle. Much of our trouble stems from pure jealousy or pettiness. I’ve hound hunted since I was old enough to sit upright in a truck seat. I’ve seen it all.
Now, right now, we’ve got to decide if we will continue to allow our differences to destroy us or if we will lay those things down and join each other in the common cause of defeating the enemy. The real enemy isn’t the other Houndsmen. The real enemy is those trying to destroy us all. The tribe you belong to can’t survive if the enemy is greater than the tribe. All tribes have to align themselves in a great hound hunting confederacy
of happy warriors who fight with every peaceful and legal means to survive. Unity is the way. All for one and one for all.
We need to unify out of pure self-interest. If you want to keep hound hunting, join the fight. We need to unify for the future of our children. If you have a grandchild that you want to be able to enjoy free-casting hounds, join the fight. We need to unify for the dogs. Every legitimate Houndsman has a love for his dogs indescribable to the average person. If you don’t want to watch your hounds rot in a kennel, then join the fight.
The animal rights cultists are the enemy. They are wholeheartedly devoted to our destruction. They will use every means necessary to make sure your freedoms are outlawed. Nothing would make them happier than to see you thrown in prison for life just because you hunt. If we don’t join together, they will continue to attack one state at a time until there is no place left.
It doesn’t matter how you feel about the Houndsman down the road. It doesn’t matter about personal issues and petty squabbles. At this point, it really doesn’t matter if you have a legitimate reason to have sour feelings for other Houndsmen. What matters now is that we have a ruthless, mindless common enemy. The enemy is the cultish anti-hunter. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
All hands-on deck. Every man, woman, and child who loves the sound of hounds must be in lockstep for one purpose— survival. No excuses. No retreat. No quitting. The only objective is to win. We must save our way of life—together.
Kids Corner
To submit your child's hunt photos, short stories, poems, or artwork for Kids Corner send them to publish@fullcrymag.com. One child each issue will be selected to receive a $25 gift card.
MARK AND HIS LITTLE
HIS DAD SAYS THEY ARE BEST BUDDIES AND HE LOVES WATCHING TIPPY AT A TREE.
MADALYN, 8, AT A BEAR TREE IN WEST VIRGINIA
GLADYS AND HER PUPPY AT THE EASTERN IDAHO FIELD TRIAL.
AKC RESERVE YOUTH WORLD CHAMPION DOMINIC HALL “LATE NIGHT IMPRESSIVE TAP OUT”
AKC OVERALL YOUTH WORLD CHAMPION AYDEN MITCHELL “RACK’EM WILLY’S COON DOG SHOW”
SQUIRREL DOG, TIPPY.
Book Corner
Claude Miller does not refer to his book as a ‘book’ but rather as a ‘training manual’ and that is how it should be used. The author brings his 15 years of experience, training up it 500 dogs per year, into this 100-page quick read.
His manual is filled with the detailed steps he would take during his training
process and his observations of canine behavior. It is a great reference material to keep on your shelf that is full of what seems like common sense knowledge once you hear it. The author intends for you to use this book a framework and not a bible, specifically stating that the ‘reader should read between the lines.’
Though some of the methods he suggests are antiquated in their ways, his thoughts on behavior and brain development of dogs
Title: Making Tree Hounds Pay Off
Author: Claude Miller
Original Publication Date: 1971
Availability: Available Used
Game Pursued: Raccoons (though the principals can be applied to other species)
Type of Dogs: All Treehounds
are very interesting. To end his manual, he closes with the heart tugging story of a heartbroken dog whose people passed away, an example of the importance of the human-animal bond.
If you know a book on hunting with dogs that deserves recognition, please email publish@fullcrymag.com
Hunter's Directory
AMERICAN LEOPARD PUPS FOR SALE
Medium to cold nose, good tree dogs, fast on track, and extremely accurate. They are being used on squirrels, raccoon, bobcat, and bear.
Call or text Jason Abbott 304-687-1817.
Located in Logan, WV
FISH CREEK SWAMPTHING HOUNDS
Quality Treeing Walkers since 1966
Sid Underwood, Paris, TX 254-396-2429
Tom Froese, Pawnee, OK 405-410-4654
Greg Walker, Bogata, TX 469-834-7585
Payton Young, Granbury, TX 817-733-5052
These are nice pups born May 15th.
Contact Kevin Townsend 850-464-7215
S GR SQ CH Rogers Cisco GR SQ CH, FTCH, WRCH, TRFCH, Ridge Runnin Ralph BUSY, LOUD, ACCURATE, INDEPENDENT
Stay in the woods you're in and stay treed
Ed Rogers 989-445-0103 Alex Huyghe 989-863-0208
in predator calls and supplies including coon squallers, predator calls, dog boxes, leather goods, boot supplies, clothing and more. www.markzepp.com (574) 971-8371
WEST COAST TELEMETRY HOUND SUPPLY
We are an authorized Garmin dealer. We also build new Beep Beep tracking collars $125. Repair most brands $45 and can convert your old collars to tagalong collars $65
westcoasttelemetry.com 253-536-1351
TREE TALKIN' TIME
Tree Talkin Time: Tree Talkin' Time is all about tree dogs. We talk to people who hunt various breeds of dogs to pursue and tree anything from squirrels to bear. Find us wherever you get your podcasts.
CATEGORIES
BORN 100 YEARS TOO LATE
Brett Vaughn is a retired adventurer who explores the west with his mules and hounds.
born100yearstoolate.com
Follow along on Youtube: @BrettVaughnB100
SOUTHERN HOUND HUNTING
Promoting the real fair chase experience!
A quarterly magazine dedicated to the hound hunting community.
Subscribe at wouthernhoundhunting.com
WHAT'S UP WEDNESDAY PODAST
Heath Hyatt is a LE canine trainer and veteran houndsman sharing training tips every Wednesday on his podcast on the HoundPodcast:Double U Hunting Supply Network. Find more tips and videos on YouTube: @heathhyatt147
THIS IS YOUR PLACE TO GET FOUND!
Get us a logo or picture and 30-40 words and we’ll get you listed in the hunters directory. Email: jason@fullcrymag.com for more info.
Lone Pine Buckshot Aka GIGGS
NITECH ‘PR’ White Lick Cr. Big
WLDNITECH NITECH ‘PR’ Miami River Big D
PR’ Ricketts Sassy Sage
GRCH
GRNTECH ‘PR’ Big Money
GRNITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Goose Creek Slugger
GRNITECH GRCH ‘PR’ RedOak Diamond Ring
NITECH ‘PR’ Pools Harwood Patsy
GRNITECH CH ‘PR’ Money Max Out
NITECH ‘PR’ Mc Queen & Fergys Wipeout Zack
NITECH ‘PR’ Kiddy’s Wipeout Zeb Again
NITECH ‘PR’ Wipeout Ruby
NITECH ‘PR’ Wipeout Page
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Tequila Sunrise
PR’ Tequillas Margarita
NITECH ‘PR’ Ferggs Moss Creek Dana
PR’ Lone Pine Buckshot Aka Giggs
NITECH ‘PR’ SKUNA River Fred
NITECH ‘PR’ Hub’s Homer
NITECH ‘PR’ Raccoon Valley Queen
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Full Throttle Jiggs
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Tequila Sunrise
PR’ Waddle’s Fancy
PR’ Dean’s Million $ Patch
GRNITECH’PR’ Smith&Strangs Lone Pine Quickshot
CH GRNITECH ‘PR’ Nocturnal Style
GRCH GRNITECH ‘PR’ All Grand Track Man
GRNITECH GRCH ‘PR’ Rock River Lady
GRNITECH ‘PR’ S7s Lone Pine Miss Quicky
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Strang Smith Lone Pine Cowboy
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Lone Pine Honey Buns
GRNITECH ‘PR’ Lone Pine Kate
Sire: Ch. Gr. Nt. Ch. PR Stark’s Barnyard Crow
Dam: Nt. Ch. PR PTL Mamy’s Bembe
2022 National Dual Champion Redbone
2023 Black and Tan Days Double Cast Winner
2023 Black and Tan Days High Scoring Redbone
2023 Bluetick Days Cast Win (2nd Place Night Champion)
2023 Bluetick Days High Scoring Redbone
2023 National Redbone Days Overall Winner (Triple Cast Wins)
2023 National Redbone Days All Red RQE 1st Place
2023 National Redbone Days 3rd Place Saturday Night
2023 Plott Days 1st Place Grand Nite Champion Saturday Night
2023 Plott Days High Scoring Redbone
2023 Ohio State Hunt Cast Winners
Qualified for TOC in 2024
High Scoring Purina Night Hunt Redbone
News & Views
All American Bluetick Association
Mark A. Hauck Sardinia, Ohio Markhauck58@yahoo.com
Greetings everyone, sorry we I didn’t get a column in last magazine but we have been busy traveling to our AABA events and I just lost track of time. First off again thanks to this fine magazine for allowing us to keep our members in touch with our events and happenings throughout the organization.
We have grown to over 100 members with just 4 events, and one more to go on Sept 7th this weekend after Autumn Oaks. Renae and I have been traveling each day for Oaks and have had fun talking to so many folks who have heard about our events, the coverage on our Facebook page and have asked to be given the info on holding one of our events. We are working already on our 2025 schedule and it is looking good for AABA for 2025.
Note that needs to be said we have been asked back for 2025 at each of the events we did this year which is a good feeling hearing the clubs talk of the success of the event and how well the event went. Our one event in Afton Michigan is going to be bigger than ever as we are adding more to the event in all of the categories’ and also for the Big Game Extravaganza. This club is fired up and we look forward to returning as we truly enjoyed ourselves there and all of our events from Mt Orab, Lambsburg, VA and Lexington, NC. Our last event is set for New Holland, Ohio so stay tuned.
I do want to thank our sponsors, from Next Level, Purina, Value Pak and Black Gold dog food companies. They have been great to work with and their representatives are just fantastic. Special thanks and we look forward to 2025 to continue the events and their support.
If your club is interested in how we do our events feel free to send me a email at the address above, or better yet PM me and please follow us on our Facebook page. I’ll be glad to send you our program and work with the club to make sure you have a successful event and most of all make money for the club!
At the Warnie Emmons Memorial event hosted by Brown County Coonhunters Mt Orab Ohio June 8th, 2024 the following results:
King of Show and GR CH Male Rage owned by Dave Federle
Queen of Show and GR CH Female GR CH Southlands Forever Blue Reba owned by Renae Hauck
of Hunt CH
At the Julius Sebastian Tribute and Big Game Extravaganza event hosted by Top of Michigan Coonhunters Afton, Michigan June 21st and 22nd , 2024 the following results;
King of Show and Overall Show Winner GR CH (2) Southlands Forever Blue Trace owned by
Well Autumn Oaks is almost over it’s been an interesting 3 days and we continue to work the betterment of our breed and support of the clubs that make our events successful and enjoyable.
Remember “Our Standards….Set Standards” so enjoy your hound and support this fine magazine and most of all get involved and support your local club !
Go Blue
King of Hunt Corn Creeks Blue Thumper owned by Tim Easterling handled by Jason Moore
Queen
Ammons Midnight Dixie owned by Mark & Renae Hauck handled by Mark
King
Hunt
Kujo owned by Lee Hogan
Queen of Hunt & Show Nite CH GR CH Girls Like You owned by Darin Fackler and Whitney Killough handled by Darin
Renae Hauck
Greeting Plott folks I I hope things are going well for you. Personally, I am staying quite busy. My middle name is "mow," not Moel I mow one day, and then a few days later turn right around and do the same parcel again. It is a vicious cycle!
This morning, I find myself thinking about Gola Ferguson, Charlie Criss, and Ferguson's famous Plott, Jap.
Gola Ferguson has been called the "Apostle of Plott Hounds." Essentially, an apostle is a diplomat, an individual whose raison d'etre was to best represent and promote the interests of something, in this case the Plott breed. Public relations were important, and Ferguson, hunting compatriots called him "Golie," filled the role in an exemplary manner. He possessed a keen wit, a vibrant personality, and could spin yarns and tell hilarious anecdotes that would make the most stiff-lipped person laugh.
Taylor Crockett knew him well; at one time he was his main dog handler, having taken several storied Plotts of Ferguson fame to the timber for the first time. Crockett said Will Rogers, who routinely called on Ferguson when he came east to visit the Cherokees, "couldn't hold a light to Golie." No one might even approach him when it came to homespun humor.
Of course Ferguson was also well known for his Plott bear dogs. In earlier years they were mostly Cable
breeding, but in time they gravitated to a product of his own creation, the famous Ferguson strain. Heralded dogs such as Ferguson's Boss and Tige, his two "Five-Star Generals," Lady Ferguson, otherwise known as Plott's Pistol Packing Mama, Plott's Punie (a deliberate misspelling), and Ferguson's Jap, his "One-Man Army," the canine character identified in this column, all sprang from his kennel. H.T. "HacK" Smithdeal, who owned and hunted Ferguson Plotts, identified Gala's dogs as lying halfway in appearance between the curtypes of John Plott and the more houndy-looking brindles of Vaughn Plott, John's brother.
"Fiddlin' Charlie" Criss was a traveling troubadour of sorts, about the most talented fiddle player around, reputedly able to charm groundhogs and split the atom with the highest of most melodious notes. Gola and his wife Jerdie held him in the highest regard, often having him to come play for square dances held in their spacious Governor's Island residence's living room. The Fergusons were avid square dancers, and it is said beautiful notes literally pearled from Charlie's instrument as he played set after set of reels and jigs for them. On one occasion while playing for the Fergusons and their guests, Charlie unfortunately spied a large bearskin rug adorning the floor of an adjacent room.
Best not get ahead of ourselves here, we'll come back to the bearskin later.
Gola Ferguson & Old Jap
Jerdie Ferguson, Gola's Wife
Ferguson1 s Old Jap was Gala's all-time favorite, a storied bear dog if there has ever been one. He was almost completely black but had brindle legs. His ears were of medium length and when in baying mode, Ferguson was sure his eyes looked intensely red. "He was my choice of all the hunting dogs I have ever seen," Ferguson was to recall. "For bear he was a one-man army. When he was a year old he had been in on the kill of four bears. He was one of the craftiest hunters and fighters I have ever seen."
At a time when bears are abundant, and all manner of tracking paraphernalia is at our disposal, we might scoff at the idea of a bear dog's taking only four bruin at an early age. We must remember during Jap's lifetime bears were hard to come by; they had nearly been hunted out. On some occasions active hunting parties might hunt an entire season and never find but a handful or less of tracks.
I have thought long and hard about Jap. Finding his name in the distant columns of old pedigrees caught my attention when sometimes the name Jap appeared with Ferguson preceding it and on other occasions the name was Plott's Jap, just plain Jap, and even Jap of North Carolina. I asked myself, "Is this the same dog?" Then there was Hazelwood Jap, the sire in the famous cross with Hazelwood Betty. This was terribly confusing.
With the assistance of C.E. "Bud" Lyon, I was finally able to sort a few things out. As I expected, Hazelwood Jap was not the same dog as Ferguson's Jap. Hazelwood Jap, a dog owned by Oliver Rathbone of Maggie Valley, came along later. This Jap, you'll remember was crossed with Hazelwood Betty, producing one of the most outstanding litters in Plott history-Plott's Dan, Smithdeal's Smokey and Fly, Plott's Carolina Kate, Hampton's Sister, among others. Hazelwood Jap was a young dog whereas Betty was well up in years. Vaughn Plott affixed the kennel name Hazelwood to the cross and may have even supplied the name Jap for Rathbone's dog because he so much favored Ferguson's dog in appearance.
Plott's Jap and just plain Jap are the same and were names used by Vaughn Plott when using Ferguson's dog as stud. Jap of North Carolina has been a name I haven't reconciled myself to as several Plotts carried the same name during the post-World War II era. Incidentally, Ferguson's Jap was also known as Zeb. Unfortunately, Jap or Zeb, whatever you wish to call him, died too soon, the victim of a rabies epidemic necessitating euthanasia.
Poor Charlie {having discovered the bearskin rug-Gola's gift to his wife) would pay the consequences. Fiddling completed and apparently full of himself, he suggested that the rug be attached to his back, and then, while proceeding on all fours, he would scare the living hell out of Gola's dogs. Frightened dogs would be scattered so dis-
tantly they probably wouldn't be rounded up until next hunting season! Ferguson had his doubts, but if indeed his dogs were somehow possessed of Satan, it might be a good idea to rid them of their devilment right then and there.
Quickly after the melee began, Charlie found himself in the direst of straits. He was being nipped, chewed on, and painfully stretched in numerous directions. Frantically, the Fergusons tried to come to his aid, putting some of the dogs in a nearby smokehouse and others in a household bathroom. The damage to Charlie, however was done. Jap, then a six-month old pup, had gone for Ferguson's hindquarters and was doing considerable damage. We won't say which portion of his anatomy was suffering most from Jap's attack, we'll simply use the word posterior and leave the rest up to reader1 s imagination.
Criss's injuries were significant requiring the attention of a hired nurse for a full two weeks, continued rearend, pillowed rest, and three square meals a day-all at Ferguson's time and expense. Perhaps the one redeeming outcome of the entire episode, however, was the fact that thereafter whenever Charlie encountered a Plott, he was fiddling a different tune, most definitely not "Here Rattler, Here" of Grandpa Jones' s fame!
Scripture comes from Mark 8, verse 35-11For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, but whosoever will lose his life for my sake and the gospels, the same shall save it."
Until next column, good luck, good Plotting, and may God bless.
American Redbone Coonhound Association
DAVE PELZER 8646 245th ST ST CLOUD MN 56301 pelzpuppypalace@gmail.com or 320-250-5499
First news this month will be this year’s winners at US Redbone Days that was held on August 2nd and 3rd at Calhoun, IL:
King of Hunt was Bill Feldmann with Feldmann’s Red Buddy
Queen of Hunt was John Johnson with Backwoods Bonnie
King of Show was Katie Travis with Wampus Cat Ice Man
Queen of Show was Marissa Turner with Running Down a Dream
Second are the winners from the August 17th sectional hunt at Top of Michigan Houndsmen Assn. King of Hunt and of Show was GrNiteCh GrCh GrFCh GrWCh2 Pr Kyle’s Harvest Moon-Jeff Young. Queen of Hunt NiteCh Pr Maple Ann-Doyal Anderson and the Queen of Show was Ch Pr Awesome Quick StormHope Williams.
Lots of us will have our seasons opening this month and for my part of the state, water is going to be a lot different this year than in the past few. Creeks are full, rivers have a strong current, and the swamps are going to be so much fun this fall. I just wish I had it made like my Black and Tan friend in WI, wife feeds his hounds and neighbor kids go in and bring them back to the truck. What a guy.
Been working with a pup this summer just getting him used to the woods and how to investigate the different things that are out there. I have heard most of the country has been just too hot to work hounds and parts have also turned dry with this coming from Ohio and Missouri hunters I have talked with. Now I’m going to give my opinion on a subject that you may or may not agree with and that’s “letting a pup run loose” on the farm. I think it’s great to take a pup for a walk in the woods and let them learn things like, crossing logs and creeks, getting through fences, and all the different smells that are out there. BUT I want to have my eyes on them and be able to help “if” they get into trouble that they can’t handle like getting hit with a ground wasps’ nest or caught in a fence. Now if they lose track of me, I’ll stay still so they learn to use their nose and brain to find me or I’ll give them a little time to figure out how to get through the fence but I’m not going to let them get hurt or afraid of getting lost. They’re really no different than a kid. Those that go to town on their own at a young age or those that have an adult “keeping an eye” on them. The country and people have changed so much that I would not have a pup lose without someone in charge of being sure it gets back to the kennel safe.
As you read this, the UKC World Championships will be over and I’m sure the message board will have all the info but if you go to good old YouTube, you can watch the play by play or listen to the UKC podcast to find out who the big winners of 2024 are.
When you read this, you will have around 30 days before Election Day, November 5th. Please be sure to vote, it’s a choice a lot of people in the world don’t have.
Seeing that deer season is now open in some states and will be soon in others, I thought we could all use this advice from a deer that ran off before I could get his name to give him his credit to:
Look both ways before you cross the road.
Be a good listener.
Know when to lay low.
Tread lightly on the earth.
Take time to browse.
Leap over obstacles.
Don’t pass the buck!
2024 Sectionals:
November 2 MI Coon Hunters Assn Lapeer MI
November 21-23 St Marks River CHA, Crawfordville FL
ARCA DAYS June 11-14 2025 at Bellevue MI (the 11th is the Youth Hunt)
Please check your memberships and your last book to be sure that your address and phone numbers are correct. Thank you.
Send your dues to Secretary/Treasurer Katie Travis 7168 W 1700 N, Hebron IN 46341. Phone 440-2255084 or her email address is km-brooks@hotmail. com. You can also pay on line by going to American Redbone Coonhound Association on Facebook or the web site www.archa.us
Dues for the American Redbone Coonhound Association are:
$20/ 1 year single or family
$50/ 3 years
$500/ Lifetime membership. $10 per year credit will be given for previously paid dues.
Redbook Editor: Lindsay Morrow 7030 N Lakeshore Drive, Shreveport, LA 71107 Phone 919-414-1034
Email ARCA.Redbook@gmail.com
Hunt Chairman: Jeff Young 11567 Farmhill Dr, Fenton, MI 48430
If your club wants to put on a hunt for the association, please give Jeff Young a call at 248-207-6430 or e-mail Jeffrey-young@sbcglobal.net
Bluetick Breeders and Coonhunters Association
8-21-2024
BBCHA’s August/September 'Full Cry' column was interrupted by technical difficulties...‘Full Cry’ deadlines could not be met. How’s that…? The bi-monthly column is generated from my office computer, and well, my computer crashed requiring a new one. I was able to do my job by intermittently sharing another station. It took a month to get our tech. to deliver the new computer and get it up and running.
Our BBCHA ‘2024’ “Fall Roundup” will be in the books by the time you receive your Oct./Nov. Full Cry mag. The BBCHA “Fall Roundup” is a great event with great people, plenty of great hunting and bench/// conformation shows. If you missed out on this fantastic event this year be sure to put the BBCHA ‘2025’ “Fall Roundup” on your calendar for next year.
I have one standing rule about authoring my past Full Cry mag. BBCHA regional column, and for the current Int. Column for BBCHA…I won’t blow on my own hounds! This isn’t my personal platform, it’s ‘YOUR” column! Always has been, and always should be.
Photos are of 2 Blueticks that I owned but went to other BBCHA members.
'Happy Trails'
Houndsmen of Nevada
The Houndsmen of Nevada held their annual Field Trials in Tonkin Springs, Nevada on May 18-19, 2024. This event was open to the public and as always is very family oriented. Houndsmen across the state and surrounding states brought their best scent tracking hounds to compete for the chance to win the coveted title as the top dog. This year there were over 60 dogs that competed and ran the drags to determine the Champion.
Each race was run to replicate what hunting with hounds has been like for hundreds of years, but with a competition mode added. On Race day, the entered hound dogs got a number painted on their side and a colored color assigned to them so that when they crossed the finish line the judges could easily determine a winner. There were two judges that video the finishes as sometimes the dogs come in very close together. About 9-10 dogs were placed together in a heat, and each heat is its own race. Before each race started a horse trotted the drag filled with scent and made the course for the dogs to a designated finish line tree. The dogs get a thrill of chasing their noses and people get competitive to see how their hound will place. The winner from each heat then advanced to the semi-finals, and winners from the semi- finals advanced to the finals.
"Dew" was whelped at my home. "Dew" was owned by BBCHA member Danny Kerchief.
"Cody" was owned by BBCHA member Tiny Santana.
The Houndsmen of Nevada club made a wonderful lunch BBQ and the beautiful weather made it a joy for all to camp out at the Tonkin Reservoir.
This year the final trial race was determined as no contest due to the finalist dogs not crossing the designated finish line. No winner was decided.Prizes were given for the Semi- Finalist winners.
Dogs and Handlers in the finals included:
Cal Bryant with Tiger
Talon Colby with Pistol handled by youth Hadley Trujillo/ Rip handled by Jackson Trujillo
Kyle Thissell with Jack & Remi
Kathy Porter with Kit Kat & Tigger
Gibb Tucker with Magic
JT Wadford with Copper
Raymond Hodson with Legs
The second Day of the Field Trials are filled with the Bear race. This is a drag with bear scent used to replicate the dogs treeing a real bear. This year's race was full of excitement with the bear race as the dogs had to follow their noses more than 7 miles to find the designated finish line and tree. This race is open to all dogs, so they all start at the same time. This year there were over 60 dogs released at once. Champion dog Rip and his handler Nolan Rosenlund took the Win of the Bear Race and walked away with a custom belt buckle, collar, and money. 2nd place went to Copper and JT Wadford.
Our New officers were elected at the conclusion of the Trials this year. A huge thanks to the past officers that have made the Houndsmen of Nevada a success throughout the past years. Our Past President Raymond Hodson should be commended for his continued efforts to make the Houndsmen of Nevada what it is today.
2024 Officers include Talon Colby President, Travis Gibson Vice President, DeeAnna Colby Secretary, and Christina Tucker Treasurer.
Our swim races took place this year at Tonkin Springs on July 27th. with over 40 dogs competing. We had a nice picnic lunch and the dogs had a fun time swimming across the small reservoir. The heats concluded to a progressive Final round with the winners being determined.
1st place went to dog Kala owned and handled by Travis Gibson and 2nd Place went to dog Legs owned by Raymond Hodson and handled by grandson Jared Rosener.
A huge thank you to all of our volunteers, sponsors, and members that make these events happen for our fellow Houndsmen.
Laurel Highlands Coon Hunters Club
By Connie Diven
Greetings! I think the autumn weather is trying to break through, but as I write this the hot weather seems to be hanging on. First, I want to call your attention to one of our youth participants that was mentioned in our youth hunt article in the last issue. At that writing we did not have his picture. Seven-year-old Waylon Butler handled best of show female Butler’s Screaming Page, owner Adam Butler. Please be sure to look at the picture and know that we are so excited to see young members at hunts, they are the future of the sport of hunting. Thank you to all the adults who encourage them.
We would also like to extend our sympathy to the family of Beth Ealy of the Butler (PA) Hunting Club, who passed away recently from an extended illness. Beth was well known for her love of coon hunting and according to her obituary passed that love onto her children and grandchildren. In addition to supporting her home hunting club, she supported others as well.
At this writing, the club is preparing for its Hunt for the Cure with all proceeds going to St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital. A full report will be in the next issue.
Until next time, if you enjoy the articles in this publication, support print journalism and subscribe to the magazine. If you prefer digital versions, that is available as well. Check out the website!
National Cur & Feist Breeders Association
KELLY THOMAS PORTTEUS
713 E SYCAMORE ST
JASONVILLE, IN 47438
Hello to all you out the in the tree dog world. I hope this finds everyone safe and well and enjoying the weather. Fall is upon us. The mornings have been cooler and the day hours hot.
I have noticed some leaves starting to slowly change. I for one am very tired of the blistering hot weather.
Recently as I have been going through some things I have found older pictures of people from all over and I started posting some on Facebook. Those of you that have Facebook and got an opportunity to see them, I hope enjoyed seeing them. I know not everyone has Facebook so if Full Cry is okay with my idea I will send 4 or 5 pictures per article so everyone has a chance to see them.
I know this will not come out until after September but Elnora has planned a Family Fun Day the last Saturday in September with a pleasure hunt and a fish fry and games. We hope there will be a good turn out and hope that Elnora Outdoor Club will make it an annual event.
During the hunts there is not a lot of time to get to visit and catch up so this is a way to give everyone an opportunity to sit down, kick back, and enjoy one another.
I hope everyone received their yearbook and was happy with the book. Farmer’s Exchange does a good job with the book and puts a lot of work into it.
For those of you that read dad’s articles you know he included things going on with our family and struggles of health and wellbeing. I have not included much because of uncertainties but our family has been blessed that my niece has finally received a kidney transplant. After 9 years of dialysis, many issues and less then poor outcome for the future Jess now has new hope for the future. She has had many trips to Indianapolis to doctors, lab work, and hospital trips and will still have a long road ahead. There have been medical issues and her body is still fighting to heal and accept the kidney and we can only ask if you all could send up some prayers that she stays strong, her body heals, and her body continues to accept the kidney. Any prayers would be greatly appreciated by our family.
Waylon Butler with best in show female, Butler’s Screaming Page. Owner, Adam Butler. Also in the picture, Kinley Minnick & Mark Kirkland
I finally was able to get in touch with Ed Wilder of Martinsville, IN. Several people had tried to reach him, including me, but was not able to reach him. We had a long chat and I hope to get an opportunity to chat with him again.
I heard from Kenneth Shade for Bulter, IL. He let me know that long time member John Mentz of Taylorville, IL passed away back in June. Kenneth is hoping to get to come to Elnora in 2025. It will be good to see him. I had the opportunity to speak with three members together on the phone while the troublesome trio were on their way to Autumn Oakes. These three were Mike Smith, Charlie Armstrong, and Chuck Schmidt.
What a trio they are, ha-ha. Never know what them fellers are going get into when they are all together.
I spoke to Cree Bare last month. Cree turned 90 years young on August 1st. She still getting along well but said she sure misses people stopping by and having coffee and a piece of pie or cake. She still works in the garden and does lawn work. I can only hope at 90 that I am still able to do those things.
I spoke to Melvin Westerman a few months ago. He seems to be doing well and is hoping to get to Elnora Outdoor Club for a visit. It is always a treat to visit his campsite and see what he has cooking. I particularly like the squirrel dumplings, yummy!
Please keep Jim Goodall of Lebanon, TN in your prayers. Jim lost his wife on June 6th. Anyone that has lost a spouse understands the ups and downs, the sadness, the loss, and the grief. While nobody can take away the pain it is good to know there are people who care and are praying for them and their family.
2025 will be a different year for our hunts. After having issues with trying to get hunt dates that worked that would not conflict with other hunts or hunts to close in locations with our hunt, we have combined two our hunts into one weekend. The association voted in 2023 to move the World hunt from the fall to the Spring. We held the 2024 World Hunt in April but was not able to get an April date for 2025.
The 2025 NKC NC&FBA Claude Thomas Memorial Hunt will be held on Friday February 21, 2025 at the Elnora Outdoor Club. The deadline will be noon and will be a single elimination hunt.
The Annual Association meeting will be Friday 21st at 7:00 p.m. at the Elnora Outdoor Clubhouse.
The 2025 NC&FBA NKC World Hunt will be Saturday February 22, 2025. Deadline will be 7:00 a.m. This will
be the normal format of three rounds. The Nite hunt will have deadline of 7:00 p.m. on Saturday evening.
On Saturday afternoon we will hold the annual auction and raffle. If you have any items you would like to donate for the auction, please bring them. You have time to get those garages and sheds cleaned out and get rid of some of those unwanted items. We always have a good time at the auction bidding against each other.
Please do not forget to Send your membership in. If you are interested in a 2024 year book I still have some left. Membership is $25 for individual $30 for husband/ wife and $35 for family. Dues should be sent to Leonard Walker / 114 Riner Drive / Old Hickory, TN 37138
As I close, as always, please keep those sick, injured, or in need in your prayers.
Respectfully and your Friend, Kelly
Rodney Smith of IL with Kemmer’s Yellow Target
Carroll Grace of Hopkinsville KY
National Plott Hound Assoication
Scott Rosson
855 E County Rd 2130
Nauvoo, Illinois 62354
217-430-7349
Hello again Plott World! Hope everybody is doing good and having fun with their Plott hounds like always. I have seen and heard about several people out pushing our great breed which is wonderful to here. I have seen and read that our youth have represented the Plott Breed well at several youth events this summer which is great to see. I want to say thank you to them because we need youth hunters and hound owners so very much. Also thank you to the parents, family, or friends that take these youth to the events because you folks are building our future. I keep preaching very month about keeping people in our sport of hound hunting and ownership because we need it to keep our sport of hounds alive no matter what you hunt or do with your hounds. Just try to get somebody involved in the sport of hunting hounds. Anyhow by the time you should be reading this Autmn Oaks should be under way or in the books with the UKC World Hunt & Show coming up. Hopefully we will have some Plotts in the spotlight which would be great. Anyhow I got a nice letter from Jim Garrison “The Plott Promoter” who sent me some pictures of some great Plott history.
Mark Gaietto with Jukebox Kennels Jukebox Tuff E Nuff
Jim Rhea and Zack Clement with limbgripper Joe boy from 1994
The photos are of Dale Brandenburger and some of the Plott hounds that we have back in our pedigrees today. These photos are a real nice reminder of our great Plott history that is for sure. Jim told me he got the photos from the wife of the late Duke Danna who was a devoted long life Plott man who had nothing but Brandenburger bred Plotts and had some really nice ones over the years. Jim and Duke were good friends and I really think that is great that Jim got these photos to keep the memory and history alive of this great breed. I think at times we need to be educated and reminded of past people and hounds of our great breed. The 2 photos I am submitting this month are one of Dale with Ch Nt Ch Pioneer Mike and the other is of Dale with Ch Nt Ch Chinnook Cann. These are some awesome photos in my book. You know ff you don’t learn from history you are failed to repeat it. Well fall is going to be knocking on our door sooner than later but with that comes a bunch of good hunting in my book. To me there nothing better than a cool fall night or day spend following a hound on a hunt. Also I want to put a shout out to people that the Plott Issue of Coonhound Bloodlines will be in December this year and I sure hope to see some ads it in this year. It’s like a mini yearbook with the ads and also something to keep that you can look back on down the road. Well that’s all I have for this month so until next time keep those Plotts a Goin!!
National Redbone Coonhound Association
News from Canada…
The Lambton Nite Hunters Club base in Inwood, Ontario hosted their first series of HTX hunts this year.
The first two to make HTX in Canada were both Redbones and got it in three consecutive wins are WCH GRNITECH Mawson’s Black River Rage HTX and GRNITECH GRCH Maple Lure Touissant Cool Boy HTX.
As fall is approaching fast, the Grey Bruce Nite Hunters are getting prepared for the annual Canadian Autumn Open. The event runs Sept 6- Sept 7th this year.
The location is Harrison Park in Owen Sound and offers camping at the Harrison Park Family Campground. They also hold an annual duck race for the kids. Hope to see everyone there.
Would like to Congratulate all the winners from both the National, American and US Redbone Days!
Amanda Mawson
GRCH GRNITECH ‘PR’ Hick’s Six Gun Albert is the best of best. He is unstoppable and unbeatable. He’s tough, a first rate coon dog. Six Gun has won 23 out of 27 casts in UKC and PKC competition. Anyone who has ever won a cast against Six Gun knew they got lucky. He’s that good, he doesn’t miss coon. I can count on one hand all the coon he has ever missed. Six Gun treed his first coon at 7 months old and never looked back. He will not run any kind of trash. When 11 months old, he won 3 firsts to make Nite CH. He then won 8 out of 9 casts to finish his GRNITECH degree. He has the ability to tree coon that other dogs don’t. He’s just that good. Six Gun is a proven sire of some good coon dogs. Six Gun is 7 years old. I rate him the best. Six Gun is here for inspection at anytime. Ask anyone who has a pup by him. Six Gun is the 6th generation of all Dual Grand Albert dog’s going back to the original Big Time Albert. This is a blow hard ad and it’s all true. I have the stuff to back it up with.
Roy goes hunting alone or in company, as it makes no difference to him. Treed his first alone at 9 months old and has never stopped. He is extremely fast, intelligent, smart, and knows how to tree coon. He bawls and chops on track, locates with a big bawl, then goes into a loud ringing chop. He will stay treed for hours, is naturally straight and has never run trash. He is a coon dog, an excellent water dog, as nothing will stop him to tree his coon. Roy is 4 1/2 years old and is already a proven sire of early starting pups treeing coon. He is also one of the best looking black dogs ever. Roy is a very dominate sire as he throws whole litters of pups that look just like him in type, look, conformation and color. I've owned a whole bunch of great black dogs and I rate Roy right up there with the best. If you have a good female and a little particular to what you breed her to, it would certainly pay you to investigate Roy.
'PR' HICKS' DIAMOND JILL 'PR' HICKS' MIDNITE BLACKIE GRCH 'PR' HICKS' HI-RIVER ROY GRNITECH GRCH 'PR' HICKS' TWO TIME ALBERT GRNITECH GRCH 'PR' HICKS' THREE TIME ALBERT
GRNITECH 'PR' FLIPPO'S DRIVING MISS RUBY
GRNITECH GRCH 'PR' HICKS' THUNDER MOUNTAIN ELI 'PR' MATHESON'S JACKPOT
GRCH GRNITECH 'PR' GARRETT'S DANCING DAISY 'PR' MATHESON'S HIGH PINE MISTY
