Coon hunting with hounds

My Bluetick Jack

Written by Sabra White

Its a cold winter night walking by the moonlight, you follow me so soundly with your paws matching my footsteps closely, your dark blue hair and your freckeld legs glisten in the brisk moonlight. Tonight will be the night you make your master proud. You are not only my hound, you are my friend. I build a fire by the lake on the moon slue shore, I look at you, you look at me. I remove the leash holding you from your calling, I holler to you , tree me a big one, as you run I sit quietly breathing, the crisp night air, January is moving ever so slowly. I hear you, your bay breaks through the cold night air like glass shattering on the ground, all is still, I wait breathing faintly waiting for the next bark to tell me your running straight for your game, with a loud bay, this I know, your hot on his trail. Your barks, echoing so softly through the air like a steady stream winding through the woods,, I knew my friend was close.

I sat looking at the timbers surrounding me.. louder and louder my friend got.. he was stationary, not moving an inch.. this I knew, he was treed.. I grabbed my gun and slowly walked toward the sound of my chopping hound.. the moonlight was glistening off every dew kissed brown and red maple leaf lying on the ground.. as I rounded the bend I crossed a brook with a fallen pine,, just in front of me my dog stood. Rearing against a giant sycamore.

As I made my way to him I bent down I praised him for the work he had done. I took the light from my side and shined the beam to the outermost branch. And there he sat,, a ruffled up furry silver coon, his pelt shined with the rays of moonlight. I pulled my gun from my side pointed up, and with one shot, down he came. I kneeled and told my friend to claim his prize. He picked the silver an black ringtail up between his jaws and I gave him a pat on the head. We began to walk, the leaves were thick on the forest floor, side by side my friend and I headed home, making tracks of our own.

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