My bitch, Marilyn, is in heat and I had no intention of bringing her this morning but when I loaded up the hounds at 3:55am, I guess I was still half asleep. She jumped right in the hound box and it hit me right then that I should have separated her while they were still in the yard. All four of them were wound up, anticipating what was to come and attempts to pull Marilyn back out of the truck merely created more excitement. I decided to let her ride along - she would have probably barked like crazy in the kennel by herself anyway. And since the cool night meant folks would be asleep with open windows, I didnt need her waking up the neighborhood at 4am.
It was 53 degrees with a starlit but moonless sky as we drew the cornfield next to Georges Pond again. As we walked the pack along the path separating the corn from the woods and Georges Branch, I almost took a header when I walked right into some fallen tree branches . So much for somebody riding the edge in daylight to check for storm damage from Hurricane Irene. ...
Marilyn kept quiet until the remaining 9 cple opened inside the cornfield at 5:15am. First Bucky, Freddies old gyp, spoke. In the ensuing moments voices could be heard harking to Buck-buck and by 5:18 we had a pack in full cry pushing their pilot through the corn. Roscoe , Pearl and Marney were a bit slow to hark, and by the time our fox crossed Baker Rd with the hounds not far behind, we could hear two of them trailing up behind. At the highest point in the cornfield, winds from the storm had flattened several acres of the cornstalks. This made navigating through it especially difficult for the younger hounds and my Marney decided to come back to me. I ran with her back to the trucks and loaded her into the back of Bobby's . He would follow cry and head to Baker Rd to hark her while I took the now-wailing Marilyn in my truck away from the cornfield in an attempt to quiet her down.
By now, the fox was running Burleighs cornfields on the east side of Baker Rd and was heading away towards Baboo's. Marilyn had shut up as soon as I got to the truck, but rather than risk her turning the fox should he want to come back across the road, I headed to Baboo's . From my vantage point there, I could hear the hounds well. Charlie ran the pack close to the back of Baboo's house ( have no idea how that old abandoned place got it's name) before turning away from me and heading deeper into the corn. About 10 minutes later the pack could be heard, faintly by me and clearly by the guys, still running the corn but nearing Janes back lane on the south side. I arrived back at Baker Rd just as the fox made a swing towards it . Charlie wanted to go home, and we wanted him to do just that. Marilyn was quiet as a mouse.
A car passed by, coming at Bobby, Freddie , Mr. Fred and I. Afterwards, we could tell that it had influenced our pilots course-he had wanted to cross the road about 1/4 mile down from where we stood waiting- but hounds could be heard running parallel to it now and only a few yards within the stalks. At 6:13am they over- ran his line and spilled into the road. Meanwhile, the fox made a turn to head deeper into the corn. During regular hunting season, we would have left the pack alone to recover the line, but right now an hour's run is duration enough and we picked them up. All on, once again! Freddie and Bobby would get to work on time,even though old Buck-buck had jumped into Bobby's truck and decided she wanted to stay there awhile. It was comforting - and amusing- to know that I'm not the only one to have trouble getting a stubborn hound to leave her hunting buds.
Looking forward to the weekend as we plan to hunt Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Hoping to take a horse at least one of those days, even if it means riding in the dark.
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