Hunting has been a little weird lately, full drama and politics. We think it’s all sorted out, but several of us chose not to hunt on Saturday just to stay out of it. Since it was our choice and not something we were forced out of, it was pretty nice to take a break. We farted around, gave the dogs some exercise, and sat around the campfire late into the morning.

Senior and Bill told us the lake had been restocked with trout that week, so fishing seemed like the thing to do. Pat and his two boys and Grey Fox’s grandson were hanging with us. So we scraped together enough tackle, never a problem when my father-in-law is around, and headed off to the lake.

My father-in-law is a fantastic teacher, and he loves to help kids. Fortunately, I’m such a beginner at fishing that I qualify for the help too. He got the four of us set up on the bank while he, Bill, Pat, and Junior supervised. It wasn’t long before the fish were hitting the baits and we were reeling them in. Hatchery fish are apparently really easy to catch, as they’re used to being fed, but that didn’t hurt our fun. I’ve had such a fishing curse for so long that it was a real relief to be able to actually land one.

The looks on the kids’ faces when they’d catch one was great. I was torn between wanting to fish and wanting to take pictures, so I did a little of both. Once I’d caught my limit, I could focus on the kids and try to get some action shots. They had such a good time, and Senior did too helping them. They kept all of the dads busy taking hooks out of fish; as soon as one kid would get his line cast back out, another kid would have one on the bank and another kid would need fresh bait. A few hours went by in a flash.

Senior and Junior set up an assembly line when we got back to camp. Almost all of us had limited out, so they had a lot of fish to clean. Senior filleted them all while Junior cleaned the bones off of the fillets and I washed them. We ended up with a lot of fish, and shared ours with Fran and Todd down at the other camp. Bill and Senior have been fishing all season and are pretty tired of trout, so they were happy to send theirs off for other people to eat too.

All in all, it was just a lot of low-stress fun. We got back to the hunting on Sunday, but the change was pleasant. I’d like to do it again, but maybe before hunting season opens. There’s a lot going on this time of year.

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When I jumped into this hound thing, I didn’t expect to be running my own dogs this year. Pups need a lot of time to mature. This year was going to be all about exposure. I’d get them used to their names, and coming to me when I called, and socialize them around other dogs in the pack. I wanted to teach them to ride in the box, and maybe let them get a sniff of a bear and watch the older dogs get excited. I did, and still do, plan to walk them on leashes to a treed bear so they can see the excitement, and every time we have one down on the ground, I let them smell it.

Cara’s a little braver, but she’s always had the better nose when it comes to the house cat. Foxy is nervous around a dead bear, but she relaxes after a little and will at least go up and smell it. They’re good with the other dogs, even with strange ones stuffed into their box. They tie out at camp just fine, and ride around without complaining most of the day. For the most part, when I need them to be quiet in the box so we can listen, they are. And when I let them out for a break, they spin around like wild things, do their business, and then come back when I call them. When I let them out to play with their siblings, Jake’s three pups, it gets a little wild but it’s fun to watch. Next year will be some more intensive training, as they’ll be old enough to run with the pack. We’ll have a better idea of what they are next year. Pup training is a long process, and they don’t all make hunters. Two years is a big chunk of time to invest in what may be nothing, and that’s why a lot of guys won’t even mess with pups, but will buy started young dogs.

I sure didn’t think I’d get to have a dog in the races this year. But then Jane came along. And I didn’t know what she’d do either, but I thought I’d try her. We’re not even sure how old she is, and I didn’t think she’d ever been hunted, from the way she looked and acted. The first time we threw her up on the box to rig, on opening day, she seemed to be excited but really nervous. She figured out how to ride up there pretty quickly, but I don’t have a lot of slack in my dog chains, so she couldn’t get in too much trouble anyway. When Dean’s dogs struck that day, I had to encourage her to bark along, but she did it without much heart. She didn’t know what was going on, was just following the pack. That’s OK, it was a good start for a stray dog.

We turned her out that first weekend too, to see what she’d do, and if she even could follow the pack. Now, she was starving to death when I got her and I may have overcompensated a little in the feeding department, so she’s a touch chubby. And my one-mile walks are nothing to get a hound in shape, so I didn’t really expect her to be able to keep up with the pack, but I’d be happy if she at least went in the same direction, and she did. She didn’t keep up with them, as I’d expected, and I didn’t know what we’d find when we went back to get her. But we followed her tracking signal right back to where we’d turned out, and there she was, following a Jeep down the road. It’s good if they go back to where they started instead of wandering off into who-knows-where. It’s easier to pick them back up that way.

So we’ve started throwing her in to the the really hot races. She made it to one of the trees at Seth’s bear, and it was really something hearing her bawling so hard. She has a really distinct bawl mouth, almost a scream, and I hadn’t heard it before, as she doesn’t make a peep in the kennel at home. It sent shivers down my spine, hearing my own dog at the tree. I couldn’t go to that particular tree, as that bear was nervous and we didn’t want too many people there, but Junior said she was looking at it and going nuts, just like she’s supposed to do.

We’ve been rigging her like she’s a strike dog too, not expecting anything to come of that. But since we don’t have a strike dog, there’s room on the rail and we might as well see what she can do. And on Saturday morning, she surprised us again. We were running with Maverick, and his dogs hit a really hot one. We rolled up behind him a few minutes later, and Jane lost her mind up there on the box. She wasn’t just booger barking because the other dogs were excited; she was really getting after it. I thought she was just going along with it until Maverick looked up at her and pointed out that she was winding the bear too. Now, that’s a really good thing. This bear was probably so close to us that he could see us, so she got a good dose of what a good, fresh bear track smells like, and she wanted some of it.

So when we turned dogs out, we dumped her in with the pack. I got her in fourth or fifth, not so far behind that she’d have to play catch-up. This was a short, fast race too, and I could hear her every once in a while. She doesn’t seem to bark much while she’s running, which is a pretty neutral thing. They treed in a hurry, and we got there and were tying dogs back before she showed up. I think she was in the area, but a tree can be a little overwhelming for a young dog. Once she was finally there though, and got a glimpse of that bear in the tree, she came uncorked again. She bayed just as hard as any of the rest of the dogs in the pack, and didn’t act at all gun shy when it was taken.

We always let the dogs get their piece of the bear as soon as we know it’s dead. Last time, she hadn’t been at the final tree, so this was her first opportunity to get that old bear right away. I didn’t know if she’d be timid about that either, but she wasn’t. She dove right in there with the rest of the dogs and made sure that thing was dead.

She’s done really well for a stray dog. The other houndsmen seem to like her and she hasn’t shown any traits yet that will automatically disqualify her. If she were fighting at the tree, for example, I’d have to get rid of her right away. We can’t have one of those in the pack; it teaches it to the others and then there’s chaos. She does seem to have the hunting instinct; if she didn’t, there wouldn’t be much point to keeping her either. You can’t teach that to a dog.

It’s been amazing, getting to run my own dog. I didn’t expect to do it this year, but here I am. Sure, I’m still dog training more than hunting, but it’s at a higher level than I thought I’d get to do. The whole process is teaching me so much. I always had a hard time picking most of the other dogs apart by sound, except for a couple with distinct voices, but my own dog is clear as a bell to me. And it was always hard to tell which dog was which by sight; they’re all mostly the same color and when they’re all running around together, you have to really look at them to tell who’s who. But my dog jumps out at me like she’s been colored with a highlighter pen; it’s that obvious. I can tell my pups apart from the other pups at a glance too, even though Foxy looks an awful lot like her brothers Ace and Bo.

But the biggest surprise for me, in this dog running business, has been the pride. It’s undeserved; I haven’t taught this dog to want to chase bears, that’s all her. But I’ve worked with her and given her a chance to do what she was born to do, and every time I see another light bulb go on in her head, I get a grin that will split my face. I’m proud of her; she’s learning much faster than I even expected, and doing much better than I had any right to even hope for. This is a dog training season for me, not a hunting season, and I had no idea that I would have so much more fun with this than I ever have before. It’ll get frustrating, that’s for sure,  but for now I’m on a high that I didn’t know existed. I owe that to Grey Fox poking me into doing this, and to Maverick for getting me started, and to Jane for being a good dog.