The September 28th issue of The Ledger had an interesting article from the AP about the increasing conflict between Virginia property holders and hound hunters. As I understand it, hunters there are allowed to enter another person's property to retrieve their dogs without needing permission from the landowner. Landowners are increasingly becoming resentful of this practice and want at least some provision requiring consent to access private land. A coalition of hound hunters, fearful of any restrictions to their sport, have banded together to fight any change to this "right-to-retrieve" law.



Also known as coursing, running dogs for game - deer, bear, wild boar, mountain lion and small game - is a centuries old practice steeped in tradition, performed by the common folk and regal alike. But times, they are a-changing.


My first hound hunt is certainly in my Top Five Hunting Experiences. A cold weekend in North Carolina, we sat in trucks along graded roads in between swamp bottoms and planted pines listening as the beagles and blue ticks chased whitetails through the woods. The sound of some slow-drawled Carolinian would come screaming across the CB for the nearest truck to race over to whatever open area the deer may run through. These places were typically named, "The Smoke House", or "Tucker's Grade", and other signatures no doubt ascribed from stories of the past.


If you were the lucky truck near the action, the sound of baying hounds carrying through the woods approaching your position gets the knees knockin' as you climb out of the cab and rack a round of buckshot in the chamber, nervous of where the buck will burst through; it's difficult to hear all that commotion and not be winded with anticipation. More times than not, the deer knew his game, giving only quick glimpses of antler, circling back through a block of pines, as the yelling on the CB would resume.


Sadly, I never connected, but what really impressed me was that in this sport of 4WD's, CB radios, and electronic dog collars were how much these hunters understood the land and the game. To hear a faint, distant howl and know where the dog was heading was amazing - more amazing was hearing the courser declare that the buck would never hit the rural highway, rather circle back in the swamp and shake the hounds. With genuine respect for their quarry, these were true outdoors people, and as close to mastery as can be witnessed from any outdoors pursuit.


More than this, the hunt was attended by sons and daughters, wives and girlfriends, and the elders, like one old gentleman in his mid-80's posted on the end of a dirt road in a folding chair, double barrel shotgun resting across his lap. One boy had a decal of Calvin peeing on a tree stand stuck to the rear window of his Ford pickup. They were serious about this style of hunting. And while I've been on other social hunts, like for dove, this was my first contact point with a true, Southern, community-oriented hunting tradition. I've seen nothing like it since.


As much as I learned on that hunt, I've been on the other side. See on that adventure, we had a few thousand acres to run and bothered no one. Dogs running on others' properties just wasn't a concern. In contrast, a few years prior I sat in a South Carolina deer stand on a semi-guided trip, frustrated, angry, caressing my trigger and contemplating scattering canine carcasses across the countryside, as some thoughtless hunter released his dogs on to private property. I'd saved and paid a pretty penny to be there, and some rube just drops his mutts off by the fence. The dogs - mongrels really, not the fine pack in NC - swarmed the area, running back and forth howling with no real purpose, until finally retreating east to God knows where they were reclaimed. I mentioned wanting to grease the dogs to my host and he lectured something about if they had radio collars, against the law, big fight, something, something, but agreed in principle. These interlopers often ruined his hunts during the weekends.


Before I get any letters from dog lovers, let me tell you, these aren't Man's Best Friend. While their owners derive pleasure from the pack's performance and affection is natural between man and a reliable hunting partner, from my limited contact with the sport, the dogs seem little more than tools. These hounds are bred, born, and will die to chase deer, not unlike their owners, which makes this whole debate so passionate. This hunt, this way of life that's endured hundreds of years, simply can not survive much longer.


In the last few years, most southern states have restricted or totally banned hound hunting - for deer, at least. Game departments don't want to put up with the hassle of complaining land owners. More and more pieces of land throughout the south are being leased in smaller tracts than what is adequate for coursing. There are still pockets of the south where this is not true, but they are evaporating as people and development make their way through Dixie.


Hunting too has changed, as hunters became more educated about deer and deer habits. Blocks of southern woods and swamps that hide your big bucks are being compromised by newer tactics. Honestly, a great deal of dog hunting was born from necessity. You look through those Carolina woods and explain to me how rabbits get through there, much less bucks and blue ticks. These safe havens were nearly impenetrable to the still or stand hunter. Now we have food plots and feeders to lure deer in the open. Aggressive doe management reduces the buck to doe ratio, making bucks more active and competitive for receptive does, and more susceptible to stand hunters. Also, quality deer management has taken hold in many places, and is not easily implemented while trying to gun down a buck with beagles on its heels. The devotion of time and money to deer hunting as a sport could be at an all time high, and those hunters rightly want to protect their investment.


I have no crystal ball, but, sadly, that one hound hunt will probably be my last. That property I hunted a few years back now caters to only stand hunters, regardless of Calvin's sentiments. People began leasing land nearby and predictably didn't want dogs running through their food plots. And in all truth, I've hunted that property twice since, and will again this November, and the hunting has become outstanding - there'll be no going back.


This is not an indictment of coursing. I respect the tradition, and can personally account the thrill of the chase, and the skill of those in participation. I'd like to believe that we as sportsmen can have it all ways, but that's simply not true. Hound hunting is on its way out, and I'll share in that sorrow, but at least I have faith they'll go down swinging.


The South has never been known for easily abandoning tradition.