Runnin’ Dogs

Daddy isn’t a hunter, just like his daddy before him. I guess it never really appealed to either of them. I guess Papa figured he’d worked so hard for his food his whole life on the farm that he’d rather buy meat from the store than tromp around the woods looking for a deer.

Daddy’s brother, my Uncle Jimmy, on the other hand, had a father-in-law that was an avid rabbit hunter and it didn’t take too long for Jimmy to have him a pack of beagle dogs and spend cold mornings walking the edge of a tree line waiting on Thumper to stick his head out just long enough.

Growing up he’d take us with him and it was always the highlight of our winter.

Of course, we knew that we were not to distract the dogs from their task; as bad as we wanted to we knew pet-ting the dogs was a strict no-no while they were working.

These are working dogs and you never interrupt a working man.

Of course there are a lot of rules some houndsmen have beyond not petting them in the field. The old school houndsmen treat their dogs like tools more than pets. The old houndsmen don’t let their dogs or spoil them with treats and words of encouragement. They take good care of them, but in the way you maintain a peice machinery. but at a young age I noticed Jimmy wasn’t quite that hardcore.

When they were in the box or at the house, his dogs were treated about as much like a part of the family as any other dog is.

One time I asked him about that; I asked why he did different from what those old men had taught him. I expected an answer about humane treatment or soft heartedness he formed for his dogs that changed his view of things.

He thought about it for a second and then said, “Well, I just noticed that my dogs came back to the truck a lot easier if I loved on ’em a little bit.”