“Oh, Domino!” - the dog, that is
There were several years before I was born that my
family lived in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
They lived in the Marquette area where the Lake is big and the snow is
deep. Apparently my father seized the
opportunities of the north for adventure.
For example, he was part of a four-person bobsled team that raced on the
same track where some of the Olympic bobsled teams trained. There was one adventure though, that involved
a long-legged beagle named Domino that I am sure he would have preferred to
have missed entirely.
These were the times of closing iron and copper mines
in an area still struggling to put the Great Depression totally behind. My father was like many of the other men in
that partaking in hunting was a necessary means of ensuring that there was some
meat for the pot. And with five little
children to feed, the fuller the pot, the better. He and some good friends liked to hunt rabbits
together. Well, technically, the most common local variety was more correctly,
the snowshoe hare.
Hares and rabbits have the peculiar trait that when
pushed from cover, they will run in a circle, coming back very near where they
were first flushed. This predictable
pattern was best exploited by setting a beagle hound or two on the track to
keep the animal on the move. Although
the group owned a couple of reliable beagles, there was one hunt where one of
the members suggested to leave them all at home while he tested out a beagle
that he had recently obtained that was supposed to be high on pedigree and hare
prowess. The previous owner had let him
go for a fraction of what one would usually pay for a good hound. There’s one born every minute, they say.
The hunting party pulled up to the edge of a large
cedar swamp in good spirits and high hopes.
Everyone was impressed as the new beagle was released from his
crate. He certainly looked the part with
long legs and bright eyes. There were a
few chuckles though from the group when they found out that the dog’s name was
Domino. That didn’t sound like a proper
name for a hunting dog. Nevertheless, shotguns
were loaded and the group spread out in a line and pushed into the swamp. Within minutes Domino sounded off with a excited
low-pitched howl – the hunt was on!
Rabbits and hares circle clockwise, so the group
spread out to the right from where the hare had been jumped, took up their
stands and waited. Cottontail rabbits
run in a small circle so they come around to the gunners in as little as ten minutes. Snowshoe hares on the other hand can run a much
longer circle. The group listened to
Domino’s howling fade to silence.
Eventually though, Domino could be heard again as he and the hare had turned
and were coming around. Several minutes
later the first gunner spied the hare coming through the brush. It was an easy shot, and the hare was stopped
in his tracks.
There was no praise for Domino, however. Because, at the sound of the shotgun blast,
Domino sent out a painful howl as if he himself was the target. He was well
behind the gunner, so everyone was certain that the dog was not injured. Instead, it was obvious that Domino was
gun-shy – he was afraid of the loud blast of the gun. Worse yet, while rabbits circle around,
scared dogs can run any direction and for as long as their panic takes
them. There was nothing to do but to
split up to try to find him. And so, the
mighty hunters all headed deeper into the swamp, stopping occasionally to sheepishly
yell out, “Domino! Here Domino!”
They had walked about 30 minutes more when my father
heard a noise ahead. As he pressed on,
he wasn’t exactly sure what he was hearing, but he kept going because now he
could definitely make out barking and howling.
Then, he came to a spot where he could see a fallen tree and some brush
ahead, and Domino was rushing, then backing, then rushing in again and again;
all the while he was howling. Suddenly
the scene became all too clear as my father realized that Domino had stumbled
on a denned-up black bear and had wakened him from his hibernation. The bear was none too happy with being awakened,
or with being barked at constantly by this obnoxious animal.
My father approached as close as he thought prudent
and yelled for Domino. Domino showed no
sign of listening. Suddenly the bear
turned his attention on my dad and charged.
He was armed with a double barrel 16-gauge shotgun with #6 shot; it was
a great outfit for rabbits, but seriously less than one would want to use to defend
themselves from a bear. My dad ducked
behind a tree as the bear charged. My
father had no intention of trying to shoot the bear, thinking it would only get
him angrier, but when he turned and swiped and tore the front pocket of his
jacket he jammed the gun up against the bear’s ribs and pulled both
triggers. The bear at first seemed like
he was going to retreat, but instead turned back. It was enough time for my father to
reload. Again, at point blank range he
pulled both triggers. Now the bear
seemed mortally wounded; my father reloaded and again pulled both
triggers. This time the bear did not get
back up.
As my father gasped to catch his breath and attempt to
calm himself he took stock of the situation.
Domino was nowhere to be seen; he must have run off again when my dad
shot the first two shells. But voices
were drawing near as the other hunters were drawn to the commotion. Everyone gathered round to hear the
story. Someone noticed that the back of
my father’s jacket was also shredded.
Everyone, most assuredly especially my father knew that surviving such a
situation was a miracle.
The group walked back out to the parked cars. They found Domino curled up and hiding
underneath one of the cars. Back in town
they called the local warden. At first
he was going to arrest my father for shooting the bear out of season and
without a license, but when they brought him out to the woods the warden examined
the bear and found the cardboard wads from the six shotgun shells embedded in
the bear he realized that my father’s story of just how close the bear was when
he shot it had to be true. Not only did
he not arrest my father, he tagged it so that they could keep the meat. My dad couldn’t wait to show my mother the
big snowshoe hare that he brought home!
“I raise my eyes toward the mountains. From where shall come my help? My help comes from the LORD, the
maker of heaven and earth.” Psalm
121:1-2 Count on the Lord always, but it
may be helpful to have a shotgun handy, and don’t put your money on a hunting hound
who is gun shy, and goes by the name of Domino.
His Peace <><
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