Hunting in Vermont. 
Here we were, Rex and I, at Barre, Vt, after 
an all day ride on the train. Our host, Mr. 
Eastman, met us at the station with his runabout 
and we were soon speeding over the road to his 
home. Rex, an English setter, was given a place 
in the barn with four other hunting dogs. After 
supper, around the cheerful fire, we planned the 
week's outing. 
A cold rain greeted us Monday morning, the 
woods were wet and the bird hunt was post¬ 
poned. Mr. Eastman had a foxhound on trial, 
and as the weather looked clearer about 9 o’clock 
we decided to give him a run. As the roads 
were too muddy for the auto, we hitched up the 
team, tied Bowser behind and drove out over 
the hills. A few miles out two bulldogs tackled 
the hound and created some excitement. We 
took part and after a time separated the dogs, 
somewhat the worse for wear, and drove on. 
1 he fight had taken- all Bowser’s ambition to 
run, so we let him ride with us. 1 he prospects 
were not bright for a successful run, but we 
would not give up without a trial. 
1 he ground reached, the hound was turned 
loose in an old pasture. At the lower end some 
foxes had their dens. 1 he holes were open and 
seemed to be still used. Bowser looked in¬ 
terested. but could find no fresh scent, although 
he worked out the pasture and a patch of woods 
beyond. While awaiting developments we held 
down a rock pile and told stories. Ben had just 
finished telling of a hunt the previous winter on 
the hills above us, when I looked around and 
saw a fox within forty yards. Where he came 
from was a mystery. He did not linger after 
catching sight of us, but in a few jumps gained 
the woods. We whistled for the hound, who 
came up, caught the fresh scent, and the hunt 
was on. How that hound’s music did stir our 
blood ! We ran up the pasture to where a brook 
flowed down through a deep ravine. The fox 
was ahead of us crossing the field beyond. It 
was a fine sight. Bowser was close behind, going 
well and yelping lustily. The fox headed straight 
up for the hills. We followed more leisurely. 
Passing the highway we climbed the ridge and 
stopped to listen. Bowser’s voice came to us 
faintly, then it died away. We waited. Soon 
we caught it again, then it grew stronger. “The 
fox has turned,” said Ben. “Get behind that 
stump and lay low.” 
We took stands some distance apart. Judg¬ 
ing from the hound’s yelps the fox was twist- 
mg back and forth across the hill. Suddenly 
Reynard appeared, loping easily down the woods 
road toward 11s. T fired twice, the first shot 
wildly, the second with better effect. Ben helped 
out with one barrel and the fox was ours. It 
was an old male with a fine brush and a good 
pelt for October. He had run for twenty-five 
minutes and it was five minutes more before 
Bowser came along, yelping cheerfullv, and 
sticking to the trail like a brother. 
After a short rest we circled about for another 
fox. The hound struck an old sheep trail and 
was off in full cry. We followed and discovered 
it was sheep the dog was running. We joined 
the chase and did several hundred yards close 
to the record. Ben distanced me and arrived 
in time to save an old sheep who was trying to 
beat the dog around a clump of fir trees. Bowser 
got the licking he deserved, and from the way 
he took it we thought him an old offender. The 
dog was purchased at a good price on a guaran¬ 
tee that he would not run sheep or deer. A 
sheep killer is not much of an asset in Vermont; 
in fact, at the prevailing price of mutton, is a 
big liability. Our hunt was over for the day 
and Bowser, in disgrace, was taken home to be 
shipped back to his original owner. 
After another day of rain Wednesday dawned 
bright and clear. We were up and away early 
with Rex and Jack, the pointer, stowed away in 
the buggy. I had a crisp new nonresident hunt¬ 
ing license on which I was anxious to draw divi¬ 
dends. On the drive out we speculated as to 
whether the woodcock flight had arrived. This 
flight seems to be a debatable question. Some 
hold the migration commences after the first 
heavy frosts when the native birds go South and 
woodcock from further North move down and 
take their places. Bor this reason some covers 
are known as good flight ground. Certain it is 
that the birds move about. To-day there mav 
be good shooting where yesterday there was 
none, also there may be no shooting to-day 
where yesterday birds were plenty. 
At the first cover Rex pointed at the edge of 
the road. It proved to be a big swift flier 
which I missed easily. We followed into an 
alder thicket, and for a time business was brisk. 
Rex had not hunted with me for two years and 
we spent some time getting acquainted. When 
be went off on side hunts of his own we dis¬ 
agreed Rex is staunch enough and when he 
found a bird while I was in sight I usually got 
the shot. After covering my side of the thicket 
I joined Ben at the team. Tie had three wood¬ 
cock to my two. 1 hen over the hills to another 
cover from which Ben took in a couple of birds. 
At noon we found a sheltered spot beside the 
road and laid off for lunch. The horse was fed 
and the dogs gathered around for their share. 
Two more willow thickets were hunted during 
the afternoon. The drives in between, through 
the hills and over fine old woods roads, rested 
both men and dogs. When the day was over 
we had about the legal limit of birds and were 
satisfied. 
A ’coon hunt was down for Wednesday night. 
Now, hunting ’coons as they do it is sport. 
About 8:30 friend Bennett came around in his 
big touring car and we were soon under way 
with Jake and Rex, Mr. Eastman’s tw r o ’coon 
dogs, riding in the tonneau. Both dogs were 
eager for the hunt. They say Jake, the veteran, 
will sit all day watching a lantern and rubber 
boots; the combination to him means ’coons. 
Our route was through the gulf, one of the 
finest rides out of Barre. The air was crisp 
and bracing. Some of the wav high cliffs rose 
on both sides, and above them the stars twinkled 
merrily. 1 hrough the woods the searchlight 
showed us the road for rods ahead. The autumn 
leaves were falling fast and we sped along over 
a carpet of red and gold. 
Our first stop was at a farmhouse after a run 
of seventeen miles. Leaving our heavy coats in 
the car, we struck out for a ridge some distance 
from the road. Each man carried a lantern. 
W e tramped around several cornfields and an 
orchard or two without results except some 
good apples. Then back to the car for a run 
to another cornfield up the road. This plan of 
alternately walking and motoring was continued 
through the night. Once I failed to respond at 
the all-out signal and was left peacefully sleep¬ 
ing on the back seat. Some time later I was 
awakened by a racket near the car. The dogs 
had something up a big willow tree beside the 
road. Old Jake, in his eagerness, was tearing 
big chunks of bark from the tree and Rex was 
walking around on his hind legs like a trick bear. 
Some red fire was lighted and added brilliancy 
to the scene, but the leaves were so thick no 
animal was located up the tree. There was noth¬ 
ing to do but climb and Bennett was elected for 
the job. He is no amateur, and with climbers 
strapped on he walked up the tree like a tele¬ 
graph lineman. A careful search disclosed 
something black at the end of a limb. It looked 
like a porcupine. 1 hen there was a conference. 
We did not want a porcupine, but if this was 
a ’coon we could not afford to leave him. Shak¬ 
ing the limb did not trouble the beast, so while 
we held the dogs Bennett opened fire with his 
revolver and down it came. Our worst fears 
wcf e realized; it was a porcupine. The dogs 
knew better than to tree one and felt worse than 
we did, especially after some correcting and 
wholesome advice. After another long tramp 
I returned to the car for more sleep. There was 
no sleep for Ben; he was determined to find a 
coon. As we chugged along on the low gear 
he circled the cornfield with the dogs, covering 
many miles on foot. It must have been about 
3 oclock that the dogs barked down in the 
meadow. Ben found Rex in the brook, sniffing 
at the bank and whining as he swam along. 
Coming to a low plank bridge Rex plunged 
under and there he found the ’coon. Judging by 
the noise the ’coon found Rex at the same time. 
When they came out the ’coon was on top, biting 
at the dog s neck and ears. Rex shook him off 
and gained the bank, then plunged in again. Old 
Jake now took bold, and between them the ’coon 
was dragged out on the bank and dispatched. It 
was a good fight and the dogs behaved hand¬ 
somely. 
Another trail was soon found near the brook 
and the dogs headed for a ridge across the 
meadow. Thoroughly awake now we followed 
over the worst country I was ever in, or at least 
in at night. It was a succession of steep ridges 
covered with scrub oak, briars and thorn bushes. 
A ’coon is right at home in such going, and the 
dogs were having a running fight with one of 
the old settlers. Sweating and puffing, we forced 
our way through the tangle to the edge of a big 
