Tight Squeeze Coon Hunt
By Greg Phipps
After hunting with hounds for the past thirty years I have devised ways to minimize effort and maximize results. But what was about to happen was ridiculous!
Normally I like to leave for a coon hunt a couple hours after dark, as was the case the other night when a friend asked if he could go. Although I enjoy the solitude, company is sure a nice break sometimes on long nights with little action. So I picked up Bill around 8:00 p.m. He came out with a large flashlight and a headlamp shining to match his smile. Bill has been coon hunting with me before and has learned that “lighting” is a mandatory part of this great sport.
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Mandy Enjoys the Woods in a Walkin’ Wheels Dog Wheelchair
By Steve Phipps
Mandy got hurt while in pursuit of a problem black bear a couple years ago — she slipped and fell off a rocky ledge. After having her checked out, she appeared to have hurt her lower back but recovered and seemed perfectly fine for a couple years. About 3 months ago she started showing signs of trouble and in just a matter of a couple days became completely paralyzed in her back end. I took her to the vet at the first signs of trouble and he put her on a steroid and told me she would only have about a 50% chance of walking again. X-rays showed that it was more than likely caused by the old back injury.
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In the Magazines
Coonhound Bloodlines Magazine
Crazy Cascade Blueticks featured in Coonhound Bloodlines. Tap a page to read it.
Houndsmen
By Bryan Disabatino
When I was a young boy I saw a movie by the name of “Where the Red Fern Grows.” Ever since I saw that movie I always dreamed of growing up and training hounds and becoming a houndsman. Well, years went on and it kept in my heart and my mind — I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I would be sitting in school and it would just be there in my mind bugging me, and then my senior summer I purchased my first hound. I think I could have been the happiest teenager on this earth just knowing that it was finally about to happen: I was going to own my very own hound.
Then school started and I was training him for a senior project and had to write papers about how to train hounds and the history of different breeds. During my training I became close to this little hound. I remember every second I have been with my hound since he first came home. It was during football season, right during hell week, and we were in very tough and rough practices, and the whole time all I could do was think about my five-week-old hound pup at my house — wondering if he was all right, if he had enough water, did I make sure his food bowl was filled up enough. All I would want to do when I got home is lay down and relax, but oh no, the little guy would be right at my feet, so I would begin playing with him and the bond just grew more and more. I would take him out to my girlfriend’s farm and let him run around and play with scent drags.
What I am trying to say is that over the next couple months he became more to me than just a dog. He is like a brother. Most people say if you own a hunting dog that you’re a bad person, that you don’t care about your dog, that it’s neglect or animal abuse. Well, those people haven’t met or seen these dogs and the families that own them.
They are right, they are not dogs, they are family. There is a bond between outdoorsmen and their dogs that can’t be broken. While studying how to train dogs and become a houndsman I learned a lot. I thought all that you needed to do was own a hound and you were a houndsman. Well, I soon learned that is far from the truth. To become a houndsman takes time, effort, patience, and the willingness to learn. No one can go into any sport and know everything about it.
Through my time of studying and striving to learn I met a man by the name of Steve Phipps. Steve is a true houndsman. He helped me in what no words can explain. He opened my eyes to what a true houndsman means. He is so dedicated to his hounds and to helping others that when I needed to interview a professional, I called him and he took an interview with me on the drop of a dime — and now I know what a true houndsman is.
A true houndsman puts his dogs first. He has a special bond that no one knows how deep it runs between a man and his dogs. A houndsman will do anything for his dogs and the dogs will do anything for their owner. When a houndsman loses one of his dogs, a little part of the man goes with him. Just by spending a couple hours with Steve, I was made to strive to become a great houndsman, to pursue my passion for hounds and keep the sport going. I hope the rest of my life can be me and those special dogs — those family members out in the hills, just me and my brothers running together, hearing those loud bays and bawls and knowing they’re on something, doing something those dogs love to do. I know I will be visiting Steve again, hopefully bringing home a pup, but there is more to it. I hope I made a friend as well, and I hope that someday I will be able to help a younger houndsman like Steve helped me.
