Tennessee Rabbit Hunt

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BAYING BEAGLES SING SWAN SONG
ON LAST DAY
by Steve McCadams
www.stevemccadams.com
March 4th, 2005

What do you get when you have sixteen anxious beagle hounds and a swamp full of briar thickets? The answer; some great rabbit races that echo through the bottom, mixed with some great fellowship from fellow hunters.

Last Monday was the last day of the statewide season for rabbit and quail hunters across Tennessee and I accepted the invitation go out in style. Just knowing it will be several long months before the curtain rises on another season makes the last day special for both the dogs and their owners.

Every time I hear a pack of hounds hot on the trail of a cottontail I ask myself why I’ve waited this long to get back out in the woods and swamps. The music is awesome. The thrills are frequent.

Wagging tails of enthusiasm greeted the morning as tailgates dropped. One by one they filed out from temporary housing with the thrust of horses at the starting gate in the Kentucky Derby.

In my 40 years of hunting I was about to have another “first”. This would be my first time to hunt with sixteen dogs at one time and all of them females! It was indeed a day with the ladies and the last time I was around that many at one time was at the mall.

But the only shopping by the girls occurred in the muck and mud of a rural swamp in Henry County. It was a sight for sore eyes. The canine companions marched into underbrush and disappeared in their quest for four-legged fur bearing creatures with long ears.

My hosts on this cold, rainy morning were veteran rabbit hunters Jeff Hamlin, Shannon Berthune, Michael Williams, and Jordan Beddies of the Paris area. Old friend Greg Blackburn of McKenzie joined us. Together we were about to embark on a long journey, trodding through the sinkholes, creeks, and briar infested backwoods where good times awaited us.

Rounding out our bunny brigade were little black and tan bundles of joy who teamed up to form quite a choir. Every dog had her own voice and disposition. From deep in the swamp each owner easily recognized his baying beagle too, a source of pride when the race was on or a rabbit was jumped.

Michael’s five hounds were comprised of Cate, Shelly, Sissy, Sandy, and Rose, a dog named in memory of an old rabbit hunting buddy now treading the big thickets in the sky.

A quartet belonging to Jeff was made up of Miss Cricket, Lady, Red, and Molly. Shannon’s Nicki, Little Any, Daisy, and Tiny joined Greg’s Bell, Buffy, and a big hound named Santana, which sported a light lemon color due to the mix of a yellow Labrador and beagle.

Within minutes of departure the race was on as a swamp rabbit hiding in a dozer pile took the hounds toward water and deep in the woods. The choir sang to the high heavens as the race echoed through the tall timber, tails wagging with every bark.

There are some things in life that never go out of style. Bird dogs on point, ducks downwind over decoys, bobbers disappearing in placid waters, and the music from baying beagle hounds hot on the scent of a cottontail quickly come to mind.

Rabbit hunting is a sport open to all ages. Whether you’re eight or eighty-eight, the dogs will quickly put a smile on your face once they thrust out in line and howl in delight. They seem to tell you with every bark that all is right with the world and this is where we’re supposed to be at this point in time.

After a 15-minute race Michael’s 20-guage shouted and he bagged the first rabbit. A few minutes later another one spring from a honey suckle thicket but quickly took the pack to a hole where he found refuge.

Every rabbit race is different. Some are long and take the hounds almost out of hearing distance while others try a sly maneuver and double back, often going through creeks and puddles in an attempt to sidetrack the mutts.

Sometimes the illusive rabbits caused silence as the pack lost the trail. However, with this clan if beagles someone was bound to find the track so the silence was short-lived as one or two barks brought reinforcements and soon the race resumed.

Most of the guys were using small bore guns as tight shots in thick cover command a light gun with a short range. And, rabbit morsels really tickle the taste buds so not tearing up the prey is another consideration.

After several hours where wet pants and muddy boots revealed our journey’s terrain, we returned to the truck with some sixteen hefty rabbits bulging from the game vests.

It was somewhat ironic that sixteen dogs and sixteen rabbits met face to face that day. Yet the harvest is a small portion of the hunt in the eyes of most sportsmen. While taking a few is important, it’s the fellowship and experience of it all that matters most.

Hearing the singing of the choir and watching the cocked ears of a young pup trying to locate where the older dogs have gone is what it’s all about. The ability of the beagles to push a rabbit across the rural confines is always amazing. Their instincts in full throttle and unending devotion to the task at hand.

We ended the day with big smiles and dropped the curtain on a successful season. Dog stories were swapped and a lot of pride displayed deep in the woods. Each dog’s owner reminded me of a parent during a Little League game.

At a time when habitat is disappearing and hunting areas shrink; the sport of rabbit hunting is alive and well. It’s a southern tradition being kept alive by sportsmen like Hamlin, Williams, Berthune and Blackburn who train and feed the dogs all year long for a few precious days of winter fun.

With every race comes payback in the form of big dividends. Every bark is a down payment on a sport that has no price tag for happiness.

Like a coach, every hunter anxiously awaits next year when the new recruits show their stuff and join the big dogs instead of staying on the porch.

Next November the season returns when the games begin with that first bark.

Steve McCadams is a professional hunting and fishing guide here in the Paris Landing area. He has also contributed many outdoor oriented articles to various national publications.

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