RACOON HUNTING
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RACOON HUNTING

RACOON HUNTING




      

RACOON HUNTING




Hunting the ringtails appeals to me. As soon as I get the Hunter-Trader-Trapper, I always turn over to the coon-hunters' section of this wonderful magazine. After I have read all the great coon hunts experienced by the different brother sportsmen, I then read the rest of this very interesting magazine. I would like to relate one, or more of the coon hunts I enjoyed last season.

About the middle of last October, I took my coon dog named ''Rock" for a try out. I wanted to see what he was, alone.

Previous to this I had tried him out several times with other dogs. He seemed to do o. k. As I don't happen to be fortunate enough to own a machine no, not even a "tin lizzie," I enticed a friend of mine out with his machine. He had never been out coon hunting before, but after exerting all my oratorical ability; I prevailed upon him to get his car and enjoy a wonderful evening, listening to that sweetest of music, that is, a red-hot coon chase. With a good fast dog making Mr. Coon realize that he has got to go some.

Well to make this description short, this dog was shipped up from Tennessee supposed to be a No. 1 coon and skunk hound. It was large, beautiful to look at, tan and blue ticked, white, black and tan, twenty-four inches high, fast follower, fair voice, good tree barker, good fighter, and full of pep. Would tear through anything on a hot coon trail. Water, thicket, mud, etc., had no terrors for this dog.

We arrived at our hunting grounds and I got out of the machine with the dog and started to walk up the road aways, while my friend was getting ready to light up the old reliable kerosene lantern. We also had a couple of flashlights and a pair of climbers.

I hadn't got over fifty yards from the car when the dog hit a running trail right across the main road. He started to tongue, and where we heard the dog bark last. We would stop and listen for his tree bark. He was a long time in giving that welcome bark. I got in hearing distance and stopped to give him plenty of time to settle down and make sure of the right tree. Then after a short while I went over to him. I could hear my pal, a long way off. He was a hooting and halloing at me, poor fellow, it was a new game to him, this floundering around through strange country at night.

When he at last arrived, I climbed the tree with a Spanish Automatic seven-shot 32 caliber. I found Mr. Coon up in a large oak tree. He was up in the extreme top of one of the highest branches. I had to hold the flashlight on him and try a luck-shot at him now and again, as there were a lot of leaves on this tree and I couldn't see to get a good fair shot at him. I emptied the magazine before he dropped. I could hear the fight down below after he hit the ground, but he tore away from the dog and went up a small tree close by. There was mud, nice soft black and sticky mud right close to the base of these trees.

That's how the dog was handicapped in the fight. "Rock" couldn't move around as fast as the coon in that mud. The coon was wounded, I found later that he had three shots from my automatic in him. But he was a game coon, he ran out on a long limb as I got half way up to him, then he dropped down over the opposite side of a thick-mesh barbed wire fence into a lot of bushes and thick mud, and away he went. You would never believe that he was wounded. The dog was helped over the fence and believe me, there was some fast drive, our coon ran about ten minutes then up another tree right alongside of a road. He just made the tree ahead of the dog. I got there first, then I yelled to my pal to hurry up. I could see the coon; he was just about ten feet up the tree and started to climb higher.

My pal was almost up to us, when I halloed "look out for the brook." But he never heard me, and came ploughing along through a lot of tall marsh grass, all at once he and his flash light and lantern disappeared out of sight and everything was dark. He had tumbled into the brook. I haft to laugh, his first coon hunt, I guess he will never forget, as it was a cold night with an hour's ride back home in the car. I shot the coon out and the dog finished him.





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