Boone and the Christmas Coon
Posted: Thu Dec 25, 2014 10:15 am
Boone and the Christmas Coon
'Twas the night before Christmas and it was still in the holler.
Not a creature was stirring when I let go of his collar.
Into the dark and away he flew, a big brindle hound, not red, not black and definitely not blue.
It wasn't long and as I gazed at a star, a long coarse bawl was coming from afar.
The air was damp and cool and I hoped that soon; Boone would be treed under the Christmas Coon.
Boone is a smart track dog and quite stingey with his bark; but his voice was excited as he sang in the dark. I got excited as I listened to him run and Me and Ol Boone was really having some fun.
Up on the ridge and back down to the stream; the Christmas Coon was running and Boone was pouring on the steam! The woods were in a ruckus as they burned through the leaves, the best track we've run since last Christmas Eve!
The race was on for nearly an hour, my chest was pumping listening to the brindle power. You could feel the intensity in the Christmas Eve air; the race was near over Ol Boone was near pulling some hair.
Up on the ridge came a long dying bawl, so plain and clear a small child could call. It was the locate bark signaling the end of the trail; Ol Boone had run hard, really carrying the mail.
Ol Boone set into a heavy coarse chop; he was way up on the ridge, nearly over the top. I turned up my light and started to the tree; Ol Boone was excited as he sounded off with glee.
Nearly thirty minutes later I arrive on the scene; a steep, tough climb, even for an old Marine. I pat Boone on the head and snap on a lead; oh how I love to listen to this dog treed.
I take a few steps back from the big wolf tree, a majestic white oak growing from the Land of the Free. I shine the limbs this way and that; and then there he sits with a small bag of presents and a little red hat.
The Christmas Coon had been running from den to den, dropping off presents to all of his kin. He stayed just ahead of Ol Boone just a scorching the earth, on this Christmas Eve night signifying our dear Saviors Birth!
Merry Christmas!!!
By Chris Powell in memory of James Bowling and Ol' Rex
__________________
Chris Powell~houndsman
'Twas the night before Christmas and it was still in the holler.
Not a creature was stirring when I let go of his collar.
Into the dark and away he flew, a big brindle hound, not red, not black and definitely not blue.
It wasn't long and as I gazed at a star, a long coarse bawl was coming from afar.
The air was damp and cool and I hoped that soon; Boone would be treed under the Christmas Coon.
Boone is a smart track dog and quite stingey with his bark; but his voice was excited as he sang in the dark. I got excited as I listened to him run and Me and Ol Boone was really having some fun.
Up on the ridge and back down to the stream; the Christmas Coon was running and Boone was pouring on the steam! The woods were in a ruckus as they burned through the leaves, the best track we've run since last Christmas Eve!
The race was on for nearly an hour, my chest was pumping listening to the brindle power. You could feel the intensity in the Christmas Eve air; the race was near over Ol Boone was near pulling some hair.
Up on the ridge came a long dying bawl, so plain and clear a small child could call. It was the locate bark signaling the end of the trail; Ol Boone had run hard, really carrying the mail.
Ol Boone set into a heavy coarse chop; he was way up on the ridge, nearly over the top. I turned up my light and started to the tree; Ol Boone was excited as he sounded off with glee.
Nearly thirty minutes later I arrive on the scene; a steep, tough climb, even for an old Marine. I pat Boone on the head and snap on a lead; oh how I love to listen to this dog treed.
I take a few steps back from the big wolf tree, a majestic white oak growing from the Land of the Free. I shine the limbs this way and that; and then there he sits with a small bag of presents and a little red hat.
The Christmas Coon had been running from den to den, dropping off presents to all of his kin. He stayed just ahead of Ol Boone just a scorching the earth, on this Christmas Eve night signifying our dear Saviors Birth!
Merry Christmas!!!
By Chris Powell in memory of James Bowling and Ol' Rex
__________________
Chris Powell~houndsman