3 8o 



RECREA TION. 



GALLERY OF GOOD DQGS. 



III. 



This is the portrait of Driver, one of 

 the most noted coon dogs in the coun- 

 try, having a record of 160 coons killed. 

 He is now owned by Mr. Philip 

 Stiles, of Somerset, N. H. A former 

 owner writes, "I sold this dog to keep 

 from hunting coons, as it is too hard 

 work for me at my age, yet I could not 

 quit while old Driver's music was ring- 

 ing in my ears. 



" Driver is undoubtedly the best all-round coon 

 dog of some 33 that I have owned. He is a pure 

 bred native fox-hound, and was started young at 

 hunting foxes, but being in a coon country, and 

 owned by a man who had a good coon dog, he 

 was allowed to join in that sport, which he took 

 to at once. He soon showed himself a natural 

 tree dog; and as he was too fast on a fox track 

 to give his master good chances to shoot foxes, 

 he was not called a good fox dog, and I bought 

 him. During the first season of his coon hunt- 

 ing, he would follow a started fox for an hour or 

 so, but only when he accidentally started one. 

 After this first season he gave up foxes entirely, 

 and would not follow one even when he crossed 

 a fresh trail. 



" His sagacity in getting coons out of large 

 ponds was something remarkable. Although a 

 track barker, yet, when his coon ran into a pond, 

 as the crafty varmints often do, he would stop 

 all his barking and stealthily patrol the shore ; 

 and while I have often known him to go around 

 the ponds, I never knew a coon to cross the 

 pond, though they frequently do so if dogs keep 

 barking. With Driver the coon always came 

 out on the same side of the pond where he went 

 in, and within an hour. 



" The first sound to break the stillness of the 

 night and rouse the drowsy hunters, after the 

 coon left the water, would be a wild yell from 

 Driver, followed by a steady stream of music, 



such as only a good fox-hound can make when 

 close to his game. Every ear was then strained 

 to catch the first notes of the tree bark, for we 

 all knew that no coon could run far when Driver 

 once took him out of a pond. Now comes the 

 shout, ' He's treed ! he's barking up !' 



" All is excitement and reaction for the tired 

 coon hunters, who now feel rewarded for their 

 tramp. Every one is wild with excitement. One 

 says, ' I see him !' But the old heads, just as 

 excited perhaps as the young men, begin to clear 

 up the underbrush beneath the big pine tree, 

 where the dog is baying a continuous strain. 

 Every few minutes he rises on his hind legs and 

 smells up the tree as high as he can reach, and 

 says, in dog talk, ' I've got him.' 



" Now, the man who climbs for the coon looks 

 where the dog smelled on the tree, and says : 

 1 Sure enough. See here, boys, where he has 

 gone up, with the water dripping from him.' 



" After a crotched stick, like a pitch fork, has 

 been cut, and all is ready, the man slowly climbs 

 the tree, with irons on his feet, such as the tele- 

 graph linemen use. The man who saw the 

 bunch that looks like a coon is chagrined to hear 

 the climber say it is an old squirrel's nest. Some 

 of the new recruits in the party venture to ex- 

 press a doubt as to there being a coon up there 

 at all. Not so the dog, who knows he is there, 

 for he has put him there, and has trailed all 

 round the tree to make sure that he has not 

 jumped off. 



■ ' Slowly the climber works up toward the top, 

 looking carefully, trying each limb as he goes ; 

 and after a time, that seems an age to those on 

 the ground, the climber shouts: 'I see him; 

 look out he is going to jump.' 



" Then the old hunters get to the side of the 

 tree next the water, and down the hill a bit, when 

 Crack ! crack ! crack ! goes the revolver, in 

 top of tree, and Crash ! comes the coon down 

 through the limbs, and bumps on the ground 

 like a pumpkin ; but no sooner does he strike 

 than Driver nails him, and amid the snarls of 

 the coon, they roll over and over down the side 

 hill towards the water. The man with the 

 crotched stick frantically cries for a lantern, 

 while the coon gets in some sharp cuts on the 

 hound's ears, and in return the dog is chewing 

 away at him, with but little effect, as he has 

 failed to get the coon by the throat, which is not 

 always an easy matter in the case of an old coon. 



" Finally, after perhaps 20 plunges of the 

 crotched stick, one is successful, and the coon is 

 pinned to the ground and held hard, while 

 another hunter grabs the dog, who is now trying 

 to pull Mr. Coon away from his fastening. Then 

 some one finishes the coon with a blow of a 

 club. All are now ready to carry him, and spec- 

 ulate as to his weight, which is found to be over 

 20 pounds. He is an old male, in fine fur. 



"There is something particularly fascinating 

 about coon hunting on a beautiful night. Few 

 know the beauties of the forest, with its weird 

 shadows by night, especially with a good moon, 

 though the luck is not likely to be as good then 

 as on a dull, cloudy night. Coon hunting is be- 

 coming more popular than formerly, but it will 

 probably never be as common as hunting foxes 

 and rabbits, for it is more difficult work, and 

 requires dogs that either cost, or would sell for, 

 high prices." 



