Well I must admit I have never been a
dog hunter. I am a stalk hunter. I like walking around and I hunt in
that manner. I always put up stands, but I never hunt them, I like to
walk. I have 8 children total. Since they were very young I have
taken them to the woods. The one thing that has always bothered me is
that they did not love hunting as much as me. Now admittedly I am a
fanatic, so why aren’t they? Oh they like hunting, but….they are
not fanatics. Actually it’s not just me and my situation. The
number of hunters in Alabama is declining every year. Many people
have placed the blame in many places. But I have seen something. Just
hear me out. Through very unfortunate circumstances we acquired a
coon dog. The unfortunate circumstance…. A good hunter was no
longer welcome in his community. A man that from the time he was very
young, coon hunted along Lost Creek in Walker County Alabama and its
tributaries. Now in his sixties and with health problems, his days of
coon hunting are over. Oh, his health problems can be dealt with but
he is a soldier without a country. The places that welcomed him for
so many years are now “Off limits! “No Trespassing!” “Keep
Off!” Back in the better days his father would drop him off at a
bridge a few miles down the creek from his house about dark. From
there he would hunt his way back home and sometimes beyond. It had
never been a problem. He roamed free and his father and mother were
proud of him. As a matter of fact when the nights were warm and he
got hot, he would walk into the yards of the homes along the way and
draw water from their wells. Many times at 2 a.m. someone sitting on
the porch would call out to him and ask how the hunt was going.
Sometimes he would sit with them a while and just talk. But then the
cries of his Redbone on the river bank would beckon and at that, he
would refire his light and head out. He was always sent away with a
kind word. But, those days have come to an end and he came to my
house and asked my 12 year old son Luke, if he would like to have his
coon dog. The only condition was that we would take the dog hunting
and take care of him. It was an unfortunate circumstance but we were
happy to do it. Luke had gone coon hunting with him on one occasion
and had not stopped talking about it. That kid had been in my ear
since that day. Now, finally he had a dog. Maybe he would shut up
about it. But that didn’t happen. As a matter of fact in an effort
to make a really long story short, he became a fanatic. Not just him
though, all of my hunting age children. One night my wife, 8 month pregnant daughter, her
husband, my kids and a host of neighborhood kids surrounded a tree
with a huge coon up in the top. The Redbone was hard core on him. My
kids were so proud. What a dog! They take care of him, feed him,
clean up after him, pet him, water him, and in general….love him.
And you know what…he loves them back. But right now the coon is
coming down the tree. All the kids were yelling, “Shoot Luke!
Shoot!” The pressure is on that boy. The dog is bawling and jumping
on the tree. It can see the coon and begins to bite at the bark
because he can’t take it. He is ready! I’m watching the whole
thing counting heads, making sure no one runs under the coon or falls
or….have you ever herded cats? Anyway this thing is coming to a
head. Luke rails off a shot and the coon falls. He is tough customer though and comes up fighting. I can hear the kids yelling, “Get
off my dog! Kill him! He’s gonna rip the dog to pieces!” But the
Redbone was no rookie. He fought the coon into the dry creek bed
where through the dust and the blood this old warrior coon fought his
last. We surrounded the scene and cheers went up as high as those
stars over our heads. Kids were hugging and hand shaking. We stood in
the dry creek bed. Every kid had a smile. Every
adult had a smile. No rush to leave. Everyone took turns petting and
hugging the dog despite the bloody nose and cut to the top of his
head. Superficial wounds but the kids knew he put himself in harms
way for them. Each one admired the coon. There was a noted amount of
respect and admiration for such a beautiful adversary. I guess you
could say in the end, they loved the coon to. And that brings me to
this. As I looked at the group, I saw real, genuine admiration for
the hunt. I enjoyed it so, so much to be with them but where will they go? They too, are hunters without a
country. Awe, they don’t know it yet and I aint going to tell them
but with the assault on dog hunters relentless and unmitigated, where
will they go? Will my son have his guts ripped out one day as he
drives down the road to tell that little boy to please take care of
Ol’ Buddy? Will coon hunting in our county be deemed “too much
trouble?” Or will Ol’ Buddy take a bullet to the brain next year
because he became lost that night the rain set in and "allegedly" messed up that
man’s morning hunt? One thoughtless, heartless, selfish action can
take that beautiful night of hunting we had away from so many….many
times over. These hunts we go on right now are, in my opinion, the
biggest key to hunting sustainability in Alabama for a lot of
reasons. There are too many to list for this one post. All I know is
if I don’t take my kids dog hunting, I can’t wonder why they are
not fanatics. Are there more answers? Yep… a whole bunch of them, just ask the “experts.” But none of their answers
include letting go of the strangle hold they have on my kids hunting
dog. Will my son Luke be happier with a bigger deer….nope. Will he
be happy with a good hunting dog…..yep. I’m not knocking deer
hunting, I’m a fanatic. But I am knocking those people who want dog
hunting to go away so the world will be a better place. The value of
dog hunting cannot be measured and instead of pushing people out, we
should place a priority on it. This is the part we have to get right! Regrettably, this is the part that is slipping through our fingers. Dog Hunting is not the problem, it is the solution! I
tell you this and I have it here in writing….when dog hunting goes
away in Alabama, in due course, so will all hunting in Alabama.
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