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It's cutting them loose and having the pack run the rabbit until it gives up and goes in a hole or gets caught. And although the dogs usually don't catch it, they run like they want to. Just me and my pack of hounds, in any condition, on any day, in the roughest places I can find . . .

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Storm Before the Storm

The storm was coming. The snow was coming. The cold was coming. The wind was coming. It was winter and it was about to prove it. Today was just trickery. Forty degrees was a tease of what was coming way down the road. Tomorrow would be real with snow and wind and temperatures in the teens.

An hour to the northwest the storm was approaching. Snow plows couldn't keep up. Visibility was a joke. Big flakes covered everything in sight. Schools were going to be closed. Cars were going to be wrecked. Ditches were about to be parking lots. Insurance rates were rising.

Here though, there was a different kind of storm. Four dogs were screaming out in joy at perfect conditions. The air was damp. Scenting was the best. Rabbits sensed what was coming and all were out this evening. And they ran and ran. It was just one of those nights when you can't help but celebrate that you have rabbit hounds.

For four hours the dogs pounded. They ran way above their ability. Checks were a joke as dogs quickly grabbed the line and ran circle after circle with hardly a bobble. I knew they weren't this good. But they ran like the most powerful storm ever. They raged and blasted and flashed and screamed and roared almost nonstop.

Tonight I ran Dennis, Chip, Cole, and Butcher. It was 32° with snow coming down.

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