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.
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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.
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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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