Grouse Hollow Journal for January 14, 2016 by Greg Koelker

I grew up with beagle hounds.   My dad loved hearing them bay on the trail of a cottontail down in the marshy area behind our house we called the swamp.  I learned to love it too.   Ellen’s family had a long string of beagles as well.   Sometime after we moved out to the farm, one of Ellen’s co-workers at Lutheran Hospital offered her a pup from a new litter of beagles.  We took the runt, they had named him Mean Joe Green because he was so aggressive with the other pups.  I remember that I picked Joe up behind the hospital that morning and left him in a box in the back of my pickup in the alley while I returned to work downtown at Channel 8.  The police showed up later that day lookingfor  the person who owned the truck with the pealing puppy in it out back.  After that ruckuss I took the rest of the day off.  Over the years, Joe hunted and bayed after bunnies, took his watchdog job seriously, and helped watch over two little boys here at Grouse Hollow for ten years.  He was patient with babies that wanted to pull his ears and or climb all over him and he loved tagging along with little boys on their hikes up the ridge.  Like all beagles, Joe could not be denied when someone came out of the house with a firearm.  He once climbed to the top of his 7-foot kennel because I was going squirrel hunting without him.  Like most beagles, Joe suffered from selective deafness when it came to quitting and or just coming in for supper.  Once I was hunting with him at Albert Groeschl’s and Joe refused to quit.  Old Albert told me to just leave a coat lay where the truck had been.  That evening he called and said, “Your dog is here.”  Joe was resting peacefully on my hunting jacket.  Still, he was an easy keeper who just loved running rabbits.  We could hear him happily “Arooing” up on the hill or across the coulee the day he died from a tumor.

Anyway, back to present day beagle stories. Last weekend Timber Todd showed up with his friend Matt Thompson and Smokey and Hank, two of his beagle hounds.  The sun was out and it was pretty cold.  Scout was going ballistic in the kennel, and no doubt when she was younger, she might have tried to climb out.  It was torture for her I’m sure, but sadly she wasn’t invited.  

Todd started the hounds in the brush behind our barn.  The music started immediately.  Smokey put up a bunny but it ran into our burn pile before anyone had a shot.  Rabbits 1 - Beagles 0.  Then the dogs took off across the road into the ditch down the coulee.  They are pretty well-behaved dogs, but Smokey and Hank also suffer from selective hearing as Todd had to go get them back up where we wanted to hunt.  These two worked hard though, digging into brush piles and downed trees and ditches in snow up to their bellies.  They got up a bunny in the Mushroom Hole and he came running right at me.  I was carrying “Grandma,” the lightweight .20 gauge single shot my grandma used to have under her bed.  I got the bead on the running critter and pulled the trigger.  The hammer hit, but the shell didn’t go.  I put in another shell and it fired, but I missed.  It was cold, so I figure the firing pin was tight with old frigid oil.  Matt shot the rabbit with his new Stoeger over/under .410 before Smokey and Hank ran it to ground.  He said it was his first kill with that gun.  

We hunted back toward our place.  By then Jake Sikora had joined us.  The dogs started baying while working some brush piles by the tobacco shed.  Jake and I walked up behind the shed.  We both spotted a running rabbit along the hill nearby.  I pulled up and fired and rolled it.  Jake went up the hill to retrieve it for me when the dogs closed on it.  They both worried the coney a bit and then Smokey did something I have never seen a beagle do.  He picked up the rabbit and retrieved it, handing it over to Jake.  I was impressed, but when I told Todd, he said, “I wish he wouldn’t do that, ‘cause I’ll have to give him a flea bath tonight.”  Anyway, Jake’s dad, Gregg joined us when we took the dogs over behind their home.  Jake shot a bunny before we were done.  I do mean done, as I was mostly done in before we quit - what a workout, for me and the dogs anyway.

Listening to Smokey and Hank make beagle music while running rabbits brought on so many memories.  I think I was smiling the entire time.  Thanks Todd.  Oh, I got Scout out and tossed the tennis ball for her for awhile to make up for the hunting snub.  

Until next time, get out - Ellen and I got out on the ice last week.  Mostly bait stealer bluegills kept us interested, but in two trips we got enough keepers for a fish fry.  The ice then was only 4 inches thick at best.  By now the ice should be pretty safe.  You can’t catch ‘em if you don’t go.  Finally, how about dem Packers?!  Enjoy.