Chris W. Baker
UKC Forum Member
Registered: Dec 2008
Location: Bangor, Michigan
Posts: 269 |
Call from a friend
Winter here in SW Michigan has been tuff, as it has in much of the country. Cold winds blowing across Lake Michigan creates that much storied winter symptom called "Lake effect snow". Here in Bangor, about 10 miles from the lakeshore, we are the dumping ground for lake effect snow. It appears fro the last couple years that Al Gore's group has forcasted the weather just a little "off". Maybe they should get a job with the local TV weather man. Our area has an annual average of about 80 inches of snow, but the last couple have been more than 120 inches. This year we will again be hitting that mark, or more.
Since Christmas we have had two major shutdowns for hunting, the first lasting about 3 weeks. This last one about a week. When I say a shutdown for hunting, I talk of snow too deep to walk without total exhaustion after a half mile walk, or hard ice crust on top that will tear a dog up. All of this combined with temps below 20 degrees will leave me locked in the house at night, and the dogs tucked away bedded down in their house.
Yesterday warmed a little. With about 10 inches of snow on the ground, the sun peaked its face through the clouds. I spent a couple hours outside cleaning the dog areas, replacing bedding, and just generally enjoying the afternoon with mans best friend.
I will admit that with the sun shining and the temperature getting nearly balmy at about 33 degrees, thoughts of turning the dogs out into the night danced in my head as I labored behind the snowblower clearing walk trails in the yard. As I daydreamed of Little Joe working the track of an old boar coon on its annual romp of checking dens for the ladies, my cellphone rang, bringing my thoughts back to reality.
At the other side of this modern monster we all live with now, the cell phone, was my hunting buddy Larry Wilcox. Larry is known probably to many of you. Those that do know him, know that he spends most nights in the woods with some of the best English dogs around. Larry had just one question: "ya feelin stupid enough to hit the swamp tonight?". Well, you would have had to have been with Larry and I on some of the nights we have ventured into the woods and swamps in our area of Michigan to really understand what this question meant. I did understand, though without hesitation, answered "why not?, see ya at dark".
The night comes quick this time of year, and with it a rapidly falling mercury. By 7pm we are loaded in Larry's Ford, heading to our favorite haunts, the Almena Swamp. The main road from the house was dry, but as we neared our destination, the Fords footing became a glasslike sheet of ice as we turned down the tree shrouded lane called a road by that township. Larry pulled up off the ice into the snow and parked his hunting cadillac.
As we stepped into the night, the air was crisp, and a light breeze whispered through the tops of the trees in this winter dead swamp. All was quiet, without even the normal yap of the coyote in the distance.
We unloaded our friends, we had brought three. With me was Little Joe, the "old man" of this hunt, and Rocky a seven month old whom I hold out with high hopes. With Larry is Top Gun, a beautiful hound that epitimizes his bloodline.
The hounds are loosed into the snowy night, and quickly are swallowed by darkness. Minutes pass as humans wait and dogs hunt. A message from Little Joe is sent - an old boar has been prowling this seemingly dead swamp. His buddies soon join the chase, and the night air is alive with the beautiful music of hounds on the track. Deep into the lair of the swamp heads the coon, with dogs following his invisable scent. We follow, over iced water and snow, to the call of our friends.
Then, silence, only a moment or two, followed by a raucous of chop tree barks. The redticks tell us they have locked up the night bandit.
Larry and I begin our long walk into the swamp to the place of our hounds music. The swamp truly is alive, even at this time of year. Mammals roam, as evidenced by the tracks in the snow, deer, possum and squirrel tracks are seen where these animal roamed for a winter meal. The ground is covered in snow and ice, concealing the frogs and snakes hibernating in the warmth of the earth. But even the swamp itself lives, as warmth is generated from under the snow by rotting leaves of yesterdays summer and the work of micro-organisms turn ice to water in areas otherwise frozen solid.
We arrive at our destination. A large den tree has been the chosen refuge of this night prowler. It takes just a short minute and few squalls to reveal a set of eyes from within the den, telling us that Mr. Raccoon beat the dogs to his home, to live another day, and run an even longer race.
The hounds are praised. Rocky has done well in this lesson tonight, running open mouthed with his teachers. He trees with joy, as his instincts has taught him. Joe and Top Gun have done their jobs well, bringing themselves and their masters much pleasure on this cold evening. We leash the dogs, and begin the long walk back to the Ford.
As I return to my home, I wonder what it would be like to not recieve a "Call From a friend"?
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CHRIS BAKER
TIMBER RIDGE KENNEL
Bangor Michigan
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02-13-2010 01:25 PM
