(A click on any picture expands it.)
Our last official day was as usual well attended. Look at that foul weather, it was like 70 degrees.
"Am I not handsome in my spiffy new saddle cover?"
So off we go. Trucking along was the Newnan Siren's mother, not a hunter herself but very interested. Last time she visited hounds caught a coyote though, and you know how stupidstitious we are. So as we are driving along during the first draw, she says, "What's that in that field?"
Yep...
Now we were on a road maybe 175 yards away from the critter. And he just looked at us. Sauntered away a bit,
Then had a sit down.
Walk a little farther.
Sit down again.
Hmm.
He moved a couple or three hundred yards, parallel to the road. Never broke into a trot, you could tell he was trying to figure out if we were an immediate problem or just a potential one.
Unfortunately...
Hounds were brought along and laid on his line. "Poor scent" in action, they did nothing at first.
This is to me a rather remarkable picture. The camera lacks enough detail to pick it up, but the coyote is still in the frame with the hounds, about as far from the left edge of the picture as the white hound is from the right, and still just standing there. Run, dufus, your life is about to become too interesting...
And lock on they did. He put on the speed,
ran a couple of loops, but not quite enough on this plough.
Time for a drink!
And off after number two.
Around to the south, and out popped two!
Hounds right on...
And the field, who stopped here as the furry target circled around.
And back in reverse!
He was fortunate and escaped despite hounds' efforts in the heat.
Next year!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Into the Bunker...
(Slap a click on any picture to enlarge it.)
So off for the second day with our visitors from Beale Street. One thing everyone agrees on about hunting, our elegant clothes add to the cachet of the sport.
Autres temps, autres vĂȘtements.
Hounds look eager...
No more Western Front visits, I thought this was a Lewis Gun drum buried in an Albama farmyard.
Stupid sunshine.
So off to draw
And draw...
Enthusiastic visitor...
Eventually they jumped a trio of coyotes.
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Persistence paid off...
We watched the road a bit too long...
And zipped around the corner. He's crossed!
Nope! Our sharp eyed visitor saw him in the field on the left. He had run the road for a bit, then ducked left well in sight of hounds.
Into a drainage pipe.
See him?
Hello?
So we pulled hounds well away and waited.
The field was patient...
A fancy horse buyer stopped by...
Waiting...
" I may be a coyote, but I am not stupid! Think I'll just stay here in this concrete bunker."
Actually our huntsman did get hands on the coyotes back legs- she was a bitch. Let her raise a litter, we'll chase them next year.
So off for the second day with our visitors from Beale Street. One thing everyone agrees on about hunting, our elegant clothes add to the cachet of the sport.
Autres temps, autres vĂȘtements.
Hounds look eager...
No more Western Front visits, I thought this was a Lewis Gun drum buried in an Albama farmyard.
Stupid sunshine.
So off to draw
And draw...
Enthusiastic visitor...
Eventually they jumped a trio of coyotes.
/>
Persistence paid off...
We watched the road a bit too long...
And zipped around the corner. He's crossed!
Nope! Our sharp eyed visitor saw him in the field on the left. He had run the road for a bit, then ducked left well in sight of hounds.
Into a drainage pipe.
See him?
Hello?
So we pulled hounds well away and waited.
The field was patient...
A fancy horse buyer stopped by...
Waiting...
" I may be a coyote, but I am not stupid! Think I'll just stay here in this concrete bunker."
Actually our huntsman did get hands on the coyotes back legs- she was a bitch. Let her raise a litter, we'll chase them next year.
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