Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1954-01-28

to have hit track. We hadn't laid
eyes on the old hound since we'd
started cut, although l had no
doubt that he was ranging far
ahead of US.
/ By this time we were on the very
edge of the famous Seneca "Duck
Ponds" an Everglades-like morass
the favorite nesting and feeding
grounds of the migratory duck, and
the lordly Canadian geese-and,
what was much more important to
US, the rendezvous of old Mr.. Coon.
Something's wrong" l said to
my friend.
"You think old Drives ahead
Of u.s." he queried doubtfully.
He had hardly gotten the ques-
ton out when it was most I'M
equivocally answered. From out of
the duck swamp quarter of mile
away old "Drive's" first trail bark
foated back to US on the frosty air,
to be followed by another and an
other, coming faster and faster as
the trail warmed. Boy was that
dog moving! Flying, that dog was!
Straight out through the heart of
the bog. Yessir, a driving chase,
red hot. A little too hot, l thought.
Could it be fox? Could it be that
because he couldn't find a coon
track, he'd reverted to type, and de-
cided to run a fox? It's great
temptation for a hound NOT to run
a fox, for fox leaves the hottest
scent of any wild animal known,
with the possible exception of the
deer. An experienced fox hound
can often follow a fresh fox track
with head aloftl
The case was a good fifteen min
utes. Even with all my qualms
about a fox chase, the music was
beautiful. The quiet swamp was
alive. The hills echoed. And
then, mile away, there came that
magical sound the night hunter
lives for-the "tree" bark, the
bark to end all banks, as different
from the trail bark as night is from
day.
"HeIs got him." 1 exulted.
Afar, loud and close, we heard
old "Drive's" "Oww, eww, oww,
OWL" Music, oh what music!
The tree, you're always interest
ed in the tree-what kind? An elm,
an oak, maple, hickory? Big or
little? You can hardly wait to see
what kind of tree it is, because ex-
perience has taught you that if it's
a big tree you've got coon. Old
Mr.. 'Coon'll pick out the biggest
tree in the woods every time. He
wants to get as far away from that
dog as he can.
And when you're hurrying to the
dog-if you're like l am, you'll be
wondering how in the world, of all
the trees in that woods, that dog
can find the very one tree the coon
has gone up. Frankly, I've hunted
the raccoon for 25 years, and the
fact that a dog does this so UNI
erringly is still source of wonder
and mystery to me.
The trees an oak, all of 60 feet
high, a good two feet across the
stump. Time was when you cut the
tree down, and saw a real fight.
Today this is illegal, even as it is
unsportsmanlike. For instance, if
it should happen to be den tree,
there'd be one less home for the
raccoon, and good den trees are all
too few.
The oak is full of leaves, almost
the chance of seeing the
coon. I'm certain that he's an old
boy. The chase told me that-it
was long and all-out-he'd been run
a-plenty by many dogs, many,
many times.
"The only chance we've got" /
told my companion, ais for him to
give US an eye"
If you can get coon to look di-
rectly into your flashlights beam
the jobs over. All you have to do
then is to shoot him out.