Listening to Song Dogs in the Spring

Caught in the bottle-neck - this pretty song dog let down his guard while slipping through a bottle-neck between an old fence and a large pile of rocks that led into an old field.  The One-Eyed Hillbilly strikes again.

 

A young'un caught at the corner of the old collapsed barn

Last night I sat on the back porch looking out at the garden as the sun went down. In the distance down along the Arkansas River & Lake Dardanelle I heard the familiar call of the first evening coal train coming from out west and heading toward the east coast. As the piercing air horn screamed into the early evening darkness the coyotes, or song dogs, launched into a yipping and howling frenzy just across the road south of our house. It sounded as if there were 50 or more of the elusive critters all running together. Soon thereafter another gang of them tore loose to the north of the house. The house seemed to be nestled right between two competing coyote choirs and it was amazing. The two groups fed off the building frenzy of the train whistle and the competing ruckus of each pack. Between the two packs it sounded as if there were hundreds of them and yet you seldom see a coyote during daylight unless you catch one while trapping, call one up while spring turkey hunting or varmint hunting, or chase them with hounds. The critters are an amazing triumph of nature in my eyes…eye…and there are many similarities between the species and folks from the Ozark hills.

A Dent's Pasture Song Dog - notice he's rubbed bad above the shoulders
with no guard hairs showing

Ancient Native American Indian folk lore told that the coyote would be the last living animal on earth. This idea is not by accident. Like folks from the hills, song dogs are resourceful, tough, and smart. They can make a living where others can’t. They are survivors. In one of his trapping DVD’s, noted wildlife biologist and trapper, Mark June, made the observation that humans would have to trap 70% of the coyote population for 50 years consecutively in order to detrimentally impact the population of the critters. This interesting piece of trivia was derived from a government study that concluded that reproduction rates for coyotes naturally vary according to hunting pressure. That fact is a testament to the natural adaptability of the cunning creature. I can’t conclusively say that particular characteristic is shared with us folks from the hills – it’s never been tested. I’d certainly hate to have to head into the hills to hunt hillbillies to test the comparison! I’m afraid whoever was huntin’ hillbillies might see a detrimental impact on their population!



Teaching the kids how to cut for sign, set steel, and catch fur.
A Lake Spring, MO coyote.



‘Tough as a Pine Knot’ is a term used throughout the Ozarks to describe anything that has grit. That term certainly applies to coyotes & hillbillies alike. Case in point, a few years back while trapping in Dent’s Pasture I caught a coyote with a case of mange that was so severe the poor animal looked like a cartoon character – the critter reminded me of Wiley Coyote after the Roadrunner had ran him through a thrashing machine. When I first pulled up to my trap set I thought I had caught an alien! It only had fur on its snout, down the middle of its back, and on the tops of its paws. The rest of its body was pink and blotched-brown bare skin exposed to the elements. And this was in late January after a week of sub-zero nightly temperatures! I don’t know how it managed to keep from freezing to death but it had outwitted Mother Nature’s raw indifference for several weeks. Maybe it was a smart enough critter to build a fire! Years ago my trapping mentor, Kenny Wells, told me when you can out-smart a coyote with a steel trap you can catch anything and after years of trapping I now know he is right. Once you can master the nose, eyes, and cunning mind of a coyote in your trapping pursuits you can catch anything.

This young male song dog got a little too interested in the dirt hole set on the pond dam.  Notice both front paws in the trap!

As I set here writing this article I am once again hearing the train whistle in the distance and the song dogs are howling across the road. If it were only 30° instead of 85° I’d certainly be in the mood to catch a few of the critters. However, I guess I’m gonna have to get used to trapping in the warm air because I recently discovered that coyote trapping in Arkansas begins August 1st! That means I can trap for 7 months out of the year! Wow, my wife is going to be s-o-o-o tickled to hear about that! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Mother’s Day at the Lake



The whining kid gets his way - it's a good thing it isn't Father's Day! Coleman in the lake ruining the fishing trip!


Ok, how many of you guys have asked your wife what they wanted to do for Mother’s Day and heard, “Well, all I really want for Mother’s Day is to go to the lake and go fishing.” Ya, I didn’t hear that either. But, we did get to go to the lake. The plan was for the guys to fish and the girls to head to Branson, but Coleman, being one of the guys, had different ideas. Coleman’s idea of being in the boat is jumping in the lake and swimming in between eating cookies & chips and chain-chugging every soda in the cooler. And, when Coleman doesn’t get to do as Coleman has planned, he can grate on you like fingernails on a chalk board. It’s hard to fish with fingernails running down a chalk board.

As soon as the girls left the house Coleman wanted to know if we were going swimming. Sensing the fit that he would throw if I told him anything except what he wanted to hear I said, “…Uh, maybe,…just get in the boat.”

That wasn’t the answer Coleman was looking for. He wanted a black and white answer and he wanted to make sure we weren’t going to starve to death while out on the lake, “Dad, did you get the snacks? Did you get the soda? Can I go swimming while you fish?”

I said, “Sure Coleman, just get in the boat.” So, Alex, Coleman, and my brother-in-law, Scott Bollinger, and me piled in the boat and headed up Table Rock Lake from Cape Fair. There was very little wind, good cloud cover, and temps in the upper 60’s – it was perfect.

We pulled up on the first crappie beds and Coleman immediately wanted to know if he could jump in the water. “Not right now Coleman, eat some cookies.” I told him, as Scott, Alex, and I started casting our rods. When the crappie fishing proved slower than expected, I decided to switch to largemouth bass fishing with a top-water buzz bait. When you are lucky enough to time it just right, top water lures provide more fun and excitement than any other type of lures and I figured, taking into consideration the temperature, cloud cover, and wind conditions, that the planets were lined up just right for great top-water action. As soon as we started throwing the buzz baits the fish came alive. And, of course, just as the excitement grew, Coleman ran out of cookies…he had eaten the whole bag and was ready to swim.

A nice bass Alex landed with his top-water Devil's Horse. The fishing was getting good but Coleman wasn't impressed.

“Dad, can I swim now?” he asked as I cranked a buzz bait across a bush growing 5 feet out from the shore. I replied, “Coleman everybody knows you can’t swim after you’ve been eating – you’ll get cramps. Sit down and let your food settle and play a game or something.” I had reverted back to the old reliable excuse every parent has given their kid in order to keep them out of the water and I was hopeful this would buy me a little more time to fish. Coleman grumbled something and flopped down in the seat.

Just moments later Alex cranked his top-water Devil’s Horse across an old submerged fence line extending out into the lake from the bank and the water boiled around his lure as a very nice largemouth took a swipe at the plug. He gave a mighty jerk and the lure flew out of the water and across the boat – he missed the fish! It looked to be a nice one in the 4 to 5 pound range. Scott and I were excited now. The old fence line ran for 100 yards and there were old snags extending up out of the water the entire stretch. I was sure we would catch a monster but casting proved difficult as Coleman stood at my back the entire time wanting to know if he could get in the water. I couldn’t reach back and really throw my lure the way I wanted for fear of hooking him as I cast. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t be popular if I brought our youngest son back to my wife with a buzz bait hung in his head!

Finally, at the end of the old fence row we were about 100 yards out in the lake and Coleman’s Uncle Scott had heard the whining and crying as long as he could take it. He said, “Coleman, jump in the water.” And that was all it took – Coleman was in the lake and the fishing had come to a halt. It reminded me of the old saying about a squeaky wheel gets the grease but instead an incessant whining kid gets to swim to the detriment of our fishing trip. I tried to mention lake sharks, I tried to mention catfish big enough to eat an 8 year old boy in order to get him back in the boat, but Colman wasn’t having any of it. Oh well, at least I was on a boat in the middle of the lake instead of fighting the traffic on 76 Highway in downtown Branson. And, it was Mother’s Day after all so it wasn’t supposed to be about Dad. On Father’s Day Coleman doesn’t get to swim in the lake…I get my way! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.