Digging on the Dogs

My friend Dick joined me for a day in the field with the dogs, and we first hit a small hedge I have not hunted in three years. There was a soybean field on one side, and a new church on the other (I remember when it was a bean field too), and groundhog holes evident, but no one home. The dogs busted a couple of deer that bolted off, and then they eventually settled on a sette which, it turned out, had a skunk inside. Both dogs got lightly skunked, and we gathered up tools and left for another farm.

The next farm, the dogs had a grand time going in and out of a lot of settes, and Mountain eventually found.  The dogs seemed to have the groundhog bottled between them when the farmer came up in a cart with a new Jack Russell puppy on his lap. The new pup was marked just like a Plummer Terrier, though it was a simply a heavily-marked Jack Russell with a perfect Plummer-like white cowl.   She was a very nice dog, about 12-weeks old, and we had a nice conversation for a few minutes during which time I did not take care of business and the groundhog managed to bolt off out of the many holes in this sette.

The good news is that a few minutes later Mountain found it again, and after knocking a few more holes into the ground (the earth was soft), we accounted for this fellow which I ended up tailing out twice. An earned groundhog, to be sure! No, this one was not the world's biggest, but he gave us a good run.  I have taken a lot of groundhogs off this farm, and there are a lot fewer about than there used to be, but there are still plenty of holes in the creek bank.

The dogs found again, but sadly I knew this sette all too well -- a hole that dived under a massive tree with thick roots that have grown together and fused at top. There is no getting into this sette, but Mountain was inside and baying to beat the band. We pulled off for twenty minutes or so, but she did not come off it, and she ignored our calls when we returned.    Mountain was clearly right on it and had it bottled right in front of her eyes.  Just as clearly, however, the goundhog was in a pretty good position for battle.  Game on!

This hole dived under a massive hollow tree.

After an hour and three quarters of waiting for Mountain to come out, Dick and I sticked up the hole so we could tell if Mountain exited on her own,  and we made a very short run up the road for soda. When we came back, Mountain had not moved an inch, and the sticks were as we left them and the dog was still baying. On on a lark, I borrowed one of Dick's cigars (purchased with the soda) and using the plastic tube from my snare pole, I tried to smoke the dog out.  That little trick did seem to move the dog a wee bit closer to the hole. At one point, I reached in and grabbed Mountain by a single toe, but she slipped out. A few minutes later Dick reached in and got one toe.  The dog kicked and put the other toe in his hand, and she was pulled out by her back legs.  Job done!

Mountain seemed in good spirits, but her front lip was pretty damaged from the groundhog.  When we got to Dick's place we washed it out, and it started to bleed a little (a good thing) and I glued it up. This lip rip is pretty big, and not in a very good place for a staple or suture.  The glue was holding last night, but we will see this morning.
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