Paid Articles and stories?

[Buddyw]

One other idea I had was to Publish Articles and stories of peoples. We've had this Stories and poems section on the site for a long time with a "currently In Progress" message on it for the last year!..

I'm ready to try and do something.. nothing is set in stone, I'm just Brain storming out loud here. Wanted to know your opinon on the idea.

I don't know How much magazines pay for articles, or if they do anymore. But I was thinking of testing out something. For each decent article or story someone would write me I would be willing to give a Gift certificate for Double U Graphics, good for anything but I would imagine most people would want to use them on a Garmin or Tri Tronics. I would guess that History shows that articles would generate

I'm thinking between 10-20 dollar value per article. Unfortunately this could go Up or down with demand...

Articles could be about a Product, a Hunt, Training methods.. Etc, Kind of like Mike leonards Cat training method that I put up.

What are your thoughts??..

[elkhuntress]

[Dads dogboy]

Buddyw,

I am sure that there are several Proffessional writers on here who get BIG Bucks for stories.....I just don't know who they are and Who is paying BIG Bucks for Stories these days!

Now I do know that there are several GOOD Story Tellers on here who all have some GREAT TALES to Tell. I know that my Dad and I would love to read their Stories and I am sure others would too!

These Folks, and I include myself in this, would appreciate whatever reward that you might send our way! However just to be able to Share and Relive the moments on our Hunts that was so special, is payment enough!

I bet Riverbottom, Poon, Mr. MIke, Mr. Bud Denny and others feel the same as I do.

So Kick off the Story section sometime soon!

CJC

[houndnhorse]

I don't know if anyone wants to read this again, but I guess there are people that haven't read it. All the dogs but one are gone. Lilly was the pup and she is my main dog, and gave me a couple dandy pups. Tank and Sailor are burried on the ridge above my house, and I go see them once in a while. We all look across at the canyons this very story took place at. I don't know, I read this story again and it brought back some good memories. Here goes.

Evolution of a Pack

By Mike Martindale

It was a very successful yet tragic weekend for the pack and me. We are one member short as of Saturday. Mickey, the old dog my buddy Pat gave me to help train pups, died doing what she loved best--mixing it up with Mr. Lion. Although she had seen more lions than most ever will, she made a mistake and it cost her.

The day started just like most of the winter: terrible conditions, hard-crusted snow, and mud wherever it was melted. I decided to go to one of the haunts of a good lion I knew about. This lion was right off the main drag so he was wise to the old hound game, but I had Mickey this year he didn't have a chance against this old veteran. Well, I decided to walk the dogs up into a series of bluffs where I felt this guy was hiding.

It wasn't long before the dogs were sniffing about with tails a popping. I knew something had been there recently because this was a south-facing rim, which had several small flurries come through and melt off. Then we came to the first kill, almost all gone but looked fresh. We went on and came across another really fresh kill; the blood on the ground was still red even though it was in the sun.

We started through a saddle when my puppy Lilly fired first, then came Mickey, then Tank. It was slow but they were moving toward a bluff, when I saw Sailor, another dog I have that my buddy Pat owns, out ahead of them moving into an indention in the bluff. And boom, all hell broke loose. They were out of there, and I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving ahead of them. I struggled to keep up, but they had moved into a boulder field with boulders the size of Volkswagens scattered about.

I couldn't see the dogs, but I could hear them in one spot; and it sounded bad. Then off they were again out of the boulder field and into a deep canyon that had heavy cover; again sounded bad. As the afternoon came, I was becoming aware that they were staying a couple of ridges ahead of me without me being able to see anything, but they were always within hearing distance.

As dark closed in, I was honored with one of the coolest pictures the mind’s eye could imagine. There were a number of snow flurries coming through, and the mountain behind the ridge the dogs had the cat-rocked up on was socked in. The sun was going down, making those clouds red. And silhouetted in the middle was the cat backed out onto a pinnacle with hounds screaming in his face.

My chest was about to burst with pride when I noticed only three dogs. I soon discarded this because it was too far away to see which one wasn’t there, and it was certainly on the side of the rock I couldn't see. It then became apparent that I could never reach them before dark, and the previous hours had taught me this cat would just move on when I approached.

I called it a draw and headed for the truck. I called for the dogs while working my way through the side canyons and bluffs. Sailor soon met me, but no other hounds were with him. I pulled out the tracking system and got a reading on two dogs where I had last seen them. It was getting darker and I was concerned that it would be dark before they would quit--it was Tank and Lilly.

I then got a reading on Mickey coming from the direction that we had come up. Not thinking anything of it, I thought she was headed for the truck. Just as I came out of the last canyon before coming to the truck, I became aware that the signal was in the boulder pile we had gone through and had not moved. I followed Sailor from there and found him standing over her body lodged in a crevice. I don't know how long I sat there, but it seemed some time before I took off her collar and made a makeshift grave for her.

On the way back to the truck my sadness soon turned to rage. But after calling the dogs for some time with no success, I drove up closer to them on a road that was too muddy earlier but had set up some with the dropping temperature. Soon Tank came trailing in and was met with lots of petting, but no Lilly. She had moved down the mountain in the direction of some lights from the ranches in the valley, so I assumed she was headed that way. I made my way off the mountain and contacted the rancher of the first ranch I thought she would be at, but she was still moving across the mountain. It got too late for me to try another ranch--there were three before a public access could be taken, so I headed home.

After waking from a somewhat sleepless night, I dragged my tired body out of bed, with Lilly in my every thought. I hadn't bothered to take Tank and Sailor out of the truck because I was sure they were very comfortable where they were. Around 8:00 a.m., I arrived at the bar that the local ranchers use as a meeting place. I soon got permission to go behind the ranches in search of Lilly. I took the first road that turned up onto the bench of the foothills. Lilly had already gone by as her signal showed to the east.

I then sat back and looked at the lay of the land; I noticed a conspicuous outcropping on the ridge and I headed for it. There in the mud and melted snow was a lion track with a little dog track in it. I don't know if it was fear, rage, or something else, but everything just became clear with no noise. I looked in the direction the tracks were headed, and just knew where he was headed. I took out of there like a shot.

I soon realized I had passed up Lilly, so I took another road up on the bench. There she was, just as excited as when I take her off her chain to see me. I couldn't get her to shut up in the back, so I put her in front with me, where she stared out the windshield and whined. She knew something, I am sure of it.

I made it over to the access road where I could get to the canyon where I knew the object of my newfound obsession was lurking. I then became very aware of what was stirring in me: REVENGE. I was going to look this monster in the eye and watch him die—even if he took me with him.

[houndnhorse]

I reached the canyon where I just knew he had crossed…no tracks. I moved on in dismay until I had to get out and open a gate, and right there at the gate were his tracks. He had been walking down the road, so I didn't see his tracks when he entered the road.

Now I've been excited and forgot things before (flashlights and such), but halfway up the mountain I realized I had left my gun at the truck. I would have gone back, but I always carry my takedown bow in my pack so I kept going. Now these were some bad conditions like that hard crusted snow, and after the cat had passed, a light flurry had come through with those tiny little balls of snow, not even enough to be any help.

It was late in the morning, almost noon, when we started up the hillside. About a couple of hundred yards up, I noticed I had a visitor. My 11-year-old lab Teeke had decided she wanted in on the action, and aside from the couple of covies of chukar she scared up, she was an asset. She had those hounds quartering, looking for scent like veterans. (Just a side note: I think she figured out after a while what we were doing and joined in.)

Most of this new snow was gone, except where the cat was walking on top of the crust. It was very slow going. We trailed through two rock outcroppings where I saw this lion’s scrapes--he was no monster but a good one anyhow. But that was of no concern to me. This was dog work that I had never witnessed; every dog was making a number of finds as we worked slowly up the hillside. One would find it, they would move it for some time, and the cat would go up on the rocks and vanish until he had to come down into the crusted snow again.

Just as we reached the top, the dogs were starting to trail up on to the rocks with their noses on the ground so I knew they were heating it up. We reached the rim around 2:00 p.m. I was exhausted and had gone through two liters of water. I was sitting up on a rock staring at the last bluff on the rim when I saw Tank look down at me about 50 yards above. I told him somewhat jokingly to hurry up…I'm about done for. He went back to working, and as I almost made it to where he was, off they went in full cry.

I ran over to the ledge and saw them drop over a small saddle. I looked out ahead of them, knowing I would see the lion running out front, but I watched them running up the track at full speed. The reason they were moving so fast was because the lion had started downhill and was sinking into the snow. Also, I have heard that lions leave more scent when moving downhill (as you dry ground guys know). Nonetheless, they were gone and out of hearing.

As Teeke and I were hurrying along as best we could, Lilly would appear a couple of hundred yards ahead and bellow like I have never heard from her and then disappear again. Soon she would come all the way back to me, bellow, and take off in the direction of the track. Now I'm no brain surgeon, but I think she was telling me to hurry the heck up, we got him.

All along I was looking at the tracks of the lion, and none of them ever looked fresher than the ones we started on. As a matter of fact, they looked older. I could hear Tank and Sailor’s cries, but I thought they were still a long ways off. Just as I reached a pinnacle of rocks, up popped Lilly out of nowhere. I walked over to where she had come from, and there were Tank and Sailor looking up at me. I asked Tank if he had him, and he bellowed a convincing yes into a crack in the rock.

I made it to them and soon heard the low growl of this thing I had set out for. I began screaming at him as though I were a crazy man. Maybe I was crazy for a moment or two. As I looked into the hole he was in, I could see his eyes glowing about 15 feet down this crevice. I soon realized I had no shot with a bow or even a gun (if I had actually remembered one). The crack that he had slithered down in was wide enough to go down head first, but you better not take a deep breath or you would be stuck. I had heard of using flares to smoke them out, but I didn’t have any of them either.

So here I am at a stalemate. And then that calm came over me once again, and I called the dogs and headed for the truck.

This weekend had done something to me that I never expected. Rage, fear, and revenge are very powerful emotions, and they were the reasons for my success this day. Is this why I chase lions? I don’t think so. Could I have found a way to kill that lion? Probably. But in one weekend, that lion put an end to one era and started a new one.

I guarantee you this: when this pack, myself included, gets on the trail, we'll be there to the finish--whatever finish that may be. Mickey had done her job; she trained a fine pack of hounds and turned a wannabe into a lion hunter.

See you on the other side Mick.

[Dads dogboy]

Great Story Mike!

Please keep them coming!

Folks, "Full Cry" used to have this kind of GOOD reading.....Dad just got his new one and except for the old Stories in the National Majestic section....there just ain't much except "Breed Gossip" to be found.

So Buddyw please give us a place for Tales like Mike's, and Riverbottoms, Mr. Mike's and all the other Great Teller's of Tale's Tall and some maybe not so Tall! Then we can do what someone suggested last year...we can print them out and have some Quality Reading for the "Office"!

CJC

[Buddyw]

I'm still hammering out some of the formatting,

but I think I've got a decent start on it.

I put in Houndnhorse's article because it was easy to grab.

Here is a Link

www.biggamehoundsmen.com/stories/