Full Moon Music 



by Burgess H. Scott . . . 

 decorations by C. H. Roberts 



W! 



HEN a full moon beats down on 

 the hills outside of town, and a 

 dampness hangs close to the earth, 

 hounds are whining in their ken- 

 nels and foxhunters are stirring to 

 life. 



This foxhunting is not to be con- 

 fused with the sport engaged in by 

 mounted ladies and gentlemen in 

 pink coats. For the country here- 

 abouts is a stronghold of a type of foxhunting which never fails 

 to baffle the uninitiated. 



This East Tennessee type of foxhunting consists, briefly, of 

 standing out in the open and listening to the baying of an unseen 

 pack of hounds hot on the trail of an unseen fox. 



Once, maybe twice, the trained pack will aim the chase so that 

 the hunters can get a glimpse of the fox and his pursuers, but 

 that isn't necessary. The music of the pack is the thing. 



For all the fervor of the hunt, neither the men nor the hounds 

 care a hoot about catching the fox. After they have had their 

 fill of hunting usually about dawn they 

 pile into their cars and go home, giving 

 the fox free run of the hills. 



Dewey Graybeal and Homer Jones were 

 among a group of local sportsmen who 

 arranged a chase to show a flatlander the 

 pleasures of their type of hunting. 



Although several hound breeds were 

 represented in the pack, the most preva- 

 lent was the Walker hound, a big, tireless, 



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