FOX HUNT IN NEW YORK STATE
The hunt I write about this time happened a number of years ago and is as fresh .in my mind as though it happened yesterday. It was one nice winter day, with about four inches of snow on the ground, clear and no wind, a dandy day for a hunt.
There were four of us in the hunt. I will mention their given names — Isaac, Al, my father and myself. We all met on the "State Quarry Hill." We had the hound named "Dime." He was some runner, but not a very fast barker.
He took the track and was quite a long while starting the fox. He was one of these old fellows that traveled around a lot at night. After Dime started him he took some big turn out of hearing for a long-time; after a while we heard him coming back, but he got past all of us, none of us seeing him. He went south on a long range of hills out of hearing again. We all happened to meet and were talking and not paying any attention to the dogs. I made up my mind to take a stroll off by myself. I came to a place where some fences cornered together; there was a barway between them. One of the fences was a stump fence. I stopped in the barway, cocked my gun and laid it on the fence beside me.
It was a splendid day, warm and bright, and I thought this would be a good place to wait and a good place for the fox to cross, if he came back. As I was standing there something drew my attention to the left, and looking around I saw the fox standing there looking at me. As I said, I had laid my gun on the stump fence. I made some lively motions to get the gun. When I moved the fox saw me and he made some lively motions, too.
He was about 35 yards from me. I shot at him twice as quickly as I could. It did not seem to make any difference to him. He went over a hill out of my sight, running like a streak. I stood there a minute or two, mad enough to kick myself because I hadn't been on the lookout. I thought I had not hit him; he had fooled the dogs somewhere and was a long ways ahead of them. He was a cunning old fellow. I thought I would go and take a look at his tracks. When I saw them there was a lot of blood there. That helped my feelings some as I followed along. He went down hill, and every time he jumped the blood came out of him. I followed the track about one hundred yards or so and looking over a fence saw him lying there dead.
Just then Dime came along and gave him a good shaking. I like to have the dog shake them after shooting them. I think it does him good. I took the fox over my shoulder and started back up the hill to where the rest of the bunch were. They thought I had stolen a march on them and shot the fox. That ended the hunt for the day.
Will Donaldson. West Hebron, N. Y.
Hunter-Trader-Trapper. October: 1921,
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