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 vêtements.
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.
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