F.L. Jennings
Bronze Member
Being a dyed in the wool country dwelling Arkansas rube, and knowing that I have fellow rubites out there everywhere, I thought I would share a couple of canine type experiences that I've had over the years.
Frank
OF WOLVES AND WILD DOGS
ｩ2008 Frank L. Jennings
All Copyrights remain with the author
I wouldn't argue the point as to whether or not the wolves that were doing their best to catch my dog were pure bred. Spanky, my black and white Rat Terrier, zipping along as fast as his short legs would propel him, wasn't at all interested in their ancestry or DNA. He and I were hunting squirrels near the junction of the Middle and Alum Forks of the Saline river in west central Arkansas and about a mile and one half from home. Spanky Is a good companion, and a fair squirrel dog. It was an overcast, late January day, and we were two miles from home. He was ranging through a sweet gum thicket when he rocketed out of it faster than he had entered. I thought that he had jumped a rabbit and was giving chase. I was shocked to see two very large and very grey wolves twenty yards behind him in hot pursuit of their movable feast. They were about eighty pounds or so each, and were a mottled grey and black with fully billowing tails. I've shot both wild dogs and coyotes around our backwoods place, and these guys were neither.
My over-under twenty gauge was slung over my shoulder on a sling, and by the time I had it in my hands, the wolves had made it back to the thicket. I took a snap shot just as they dove into cover, but shot too far behind the last animal. Spanky's comic look of relief was as intense as my shock. Late that afternoon when coming out of the darkening wooded bottoms, we saw a lone wolf sitting on a high hill above the river, outlined by the fading yellow twilight. I would have given anything for a camera right then. Whether it was one of the pair seen earlier I don't know, but imagine that it was. I've hunted and fished in the Ouachita Mountains and foothills for the past thirty years and have had more than one encounter with assorted canine predators.
Biologists say that any wolves here now are not true, pure wolves, but are wolf - dog crosses. These aggressive but super shy animals can be found over most of the continental United States, and are frequently seen by hunters, trappers, timber cruisers, and others involved in backwoods pursuits. I'm convinced that most of us, even those living near large cities, would be shocked at the number and variety of animals that thrive right under our noses.
On an October night a few years ago, my wife Martha asked, what's that noise? Going outside to listen, it wasn't hard to hear the growling, snarling uproar down the hill and close to our pond. I had been hunting that day and skinned some squirrels in the place from which the noises were coming. At the far edge of the light cast by the pole mounted night watcher light, dim shapes leaped and whirled in a confusion of legs and hairy forms. Something primitive was going on. After watching quietly for a few minutes I realized that a pack of wild dogs were fighting viciously over the skins I had left at the edge of the woods.
I was carrying a twelve gauge pump shotgun loaded with six doses of buckshot. These wild dogs are notorious for killing calves and other livestock, and humans are not immune from their attacks. The chickens, turkeys and ducks taken from our rural homestead over the years would feed a good sized gathering. I felt no sympathy for them as I shot into the throng once, then again as they scattered. A large and muscular animal ran directly toward me, and dropped several yards away. It was a male cross of some type, short haired and muscular with yellow, cat like eyes and long canines. His ears were short and stubby, but his color was like a Walker hound. I judged his weight at seventy five pounds or better. One thing for sure, he was definitely not a house pet.
The rest of the pack had scattered, and I walked over to a large, solid black, long haired beast that was still breathing as it lay on its side. I could see the wet area of blood reflected by the dim light. I thought that one of the dogs might run back by me and offer another shot. I believed that the animal at my feet was close to expiring, so I punched it in the ribs with the gun barrel. What a surprise for me! The dying dog jumped to all fours in a flash and began to snarl and chew on the barrel of the shotgun. I was surprised into a temporary paralysis by its sudden recovery, but managed to hit it with a shot as it tired of removing the blue from my gun and turned and ran into the night. The whole episode took a few minutes, but is vivid in my memory. I've seen other packs of wild dogs in my wanderings over the years, but none as close as this, for they are truly wild and avoid man just as wolves and coyotes do.
Somewhere we have a photo of me in my denim overalls holding up a black wolf that I took on the high ground west of the Alum fork of the Saline River. The Middle Fork borders our place on the west, and the Alum Fork is on the east side of the mountain where we dwell. I was quail hunting with Joe, a black and white English setter. He and I became separated when I had to cross a woven wire mesh fence. Moving on through the woods while Joe looked for a dog sized opening in the fence, I paused to listen to the sound of something moving through the leaves. A dark form was coming directly toward me. It was several seconds before I could tell that the approaching form was a solid black wolf. I have no idea what that animal was up to, but it was very unusual for it to come toward a human. Rabid perhaps? I don't know. At any rate the top barrel of the over - under twenty gauge dropped him at only ten yards.
On occasion when we need to go to Little Rock, some forty five miles away, we take the scenic route north up highway 9 through part of the Ouachita (wash-it-taw) National Forest, then east on highway 10 and along the south bank of Lake Maumelle and into Little Rock. The entire area is mixed pine and hardwood forests that blanket the rocky hollows and precipices.
On one such drive as we approached the western end of the lake we saw a large grey animal of some sort as it crossed the pine encased road from one side to the other. At first I thought it was just a deer wearing it's grey winter coat. But as we got closer I saw that it had a large fluffy tail. As it crossed the lonesome pavement it looked toward us then in the opposite direction as it slipped into the black pines. We were close enough so that I could see the lanky trot so common to the wolf clan. That was the largest wolf I've seen in my sixty odd years. I just laugh or smile when the official game and fish people here announce a list of animals we no longer have in our fields and forests. My brother had an interesting experience some years with an "officially non-existent" black panther adjacent to the swamps outside of North Little Rock. No one goes into those swamps, but I've hunted all around them and they are practically inaccessible.
When I launch out to hunt, photograph or just study and observe wild animals in the Arkansas hills and woodlands, I'm well aware that there is no way of knowing what experiences are over the next ridge or just across the stream.Tha't what keeps you going out I suppose. As to the ancestry of those beasties, if some four legged critter is trying to eat me, I probably won't take the time to ask about its bloodline. Wolves probably won't try to catch me or my dog again, but I keep my tree climbing skills polished up. You know, just in case.
View from the front porch as night falls over the Ouachitas.
Frank....
Frank
OF WOLVES AND WILD DOGS
ｩ2008 Frank L. Jennings
All Copyrights remain with the author
I wouldn't argue the point as to whether or not the wolves that were doing their best to catch my dog were pure bred. Spanky, my black and white Rat Terrier, zipping along as fast as his short legs would propel him, wasn't at all interested in their ancestry or DNA. He and I were hunting squirrels near the junction of the Middle and Alum Forks of the Saline river in west central Arkansas and about a mile and one half from home. Spanky Is a good companion, and a fair squirrel dog. It was an overcast, late January day, and we were two miles from home. He was ranging through a sweet gum thicket when he rocketed out of it faster than he had entered. I thought that he had jumped a rabbit and was giving chase. I was shocked to see two very large and very grey wolves twenty yards behind him in hot pursuit of their movable feast. They were about eighty pounds or so each, and were a mottled grey and black with fully billowing tails. I've shot both wild dogs and coyotes around our backwoods place, and these guys were neither.
My over-under twenty gauge was slung over my shoulder on a sling, and by the time I had it in my hands, the wolves had made it back to the thicket. I took a snap shot just as they dove into cover, but shot too far behind the last animal. Spanky's comic look of relief was as intense as my shock. Late that afternoon when coming out of the darkening wooded bottoms, we saw a lone wolf sitting on a high hill above the river, outlined by the fading yellow twilight. I would have given anything for a camera right then. Whether it was one of the pair seen earlier I don't know, but imagine that it was. I've hunted and fished in the Ouachita Mountains and foothills for the past thirty years and have had more than one encounter with assorted canine predators.
Biologists say that any wolves here now are not true, pure wolves, but are wolf - dog crosses. These aggressive but super shy animals can be found over most of the continental United States, and are frequently seen by hunters, trappers, timber cruisers, and others involved in backwoods pursuits. I'm convinced that most of us, even those living near large cities, would be shocked at the number and variety of animals that thrive right under our noses.
On an October night a few years ago, my wife Martha asked, what's that noise? Going outside to listen, it wasn't hard to hear the growling, snarling uproar down the hill and close to our pond. I had been hunting that day and skinned some squirrels in the place from which the noises were coming. At the far edge of the light cast by the pole mounted night watcher light, dim shapes leaped and whirled in a confusion of legs and hairy forms. Something primitive was going on. After watching quietly for a few minutes I realized that a pack of wild dogs were fighting viciously over the skins I had left at the edge of the woods.
I was carrying a twelve gauge pump shotgun loaded with six doses of buckshot. These wild dogs are notorious for killing calves and other livestock, and humans are not immune from their attacks. The chickens, turkeys and ducks taken from our rural homestead over the years would feed a good sized gathering. I felt no sympathy for them as I shot into the throng once, then again as they scattered. A large and muscular animal ran directly toward me, and dropped several yards away. It was a male cross of some type, short haired and muscular with yellow, cat like eyes and long canines. His ears were short and stubby, but his color was like a Walker hound. I judged his weight at seventy five pounds or better. One thing for sure, he was definitely not a house pet.
The rest of the pack had scattered, and I walked over to a large, solid black, long haired beast that was still breathing as it lay on its side. I could see the wet area of blood reflected by the dim light. I thought that one of the dogs might run back by me and offer another shot. I believed that the animal at my feet was close to expiring, so I punched it in the ribs with the gun barrel. What a surprise for me! The dying dog jumped to all fours in a flash and began to snarl and chew on the barrel of the shotgun. I was surprised into a temporary paralysis by its sudden recovery, but managed to hit it with a shot as it tired of removing the blue from my gun and turned and ran into the night. The whole episode took a few minutes, but is vivid in my memory. I've seen other packs of wild dogs in my wanderings over the years, but none as close as this, for they are truly wild and avoid man just as wolves and coyotes do.
Somewhere we have a photo of me in my denim overalls holding up a black wolf that I took on the high ground west of the Alum fork of the Saline River. The Middle Fork borders our place on the west, and the Alum Fork is on the east side of the mountain where we dwell. I was quail hunting with Joe, a black and white English setter. He and I became separated when I had to cross a woven wire mesh fence. Moving on through the woods while Joe looked for a dog sized opening in the fence, I paused to listen to the sound of something moving through the leaves. A dark form was coming directly toward me. It was several seconds before I could tell that the approaching form was a solid black wolf. I have no idea what that animal was up to, but it was very unusual for it to come toward a human. Rabid perhaps? I don't know. At any rate the top barrel of the over - under twenty gauge dropped him at only ten yards.
On occasion when we need to go to Little Rock, some forty five miles away, we take the scenic route north up highway 9 through part of the Ouachita (wash-it-taw) National Forest, then east on highway 10 and along the south bank of Lake Maumelle and into Little Rock. The entire area is mixed pine and hardwood forests that blanket the rocky hollows and precipices.
On one such drive as we approached the western end of the lake we saw a large grey animal of some sort as it crossed the pine encased road from one side to the other. At first I thought it was just a deer wearing it's grey winter coat. But as we got closer I saw that it had a large fluffy tail. As it crossed the lonesome pavement it looked toward us then in the opposite direction as it slipped into the black pines. We were close enough so that I could see the lanky trot so common to the wolf clan. That was the largest wolf I've seen in my sixty odd years. I just laugh or smile when the official game and fish people here announce a list of animals we no longer have in our fields and forests. My brother had an interesting experience some years with an "officially non-existent" black panther adjacent to the swamps outside of North Little Rock. No one goes into those swamps, but I've hunted all around them and they are practically inaccessible.
When I launch out to hunt, photograph or just study and observe wild animals in the Arkansas hills and woodlands, I'm well aware that there is no way of knowing what experiences are over the next ridge or just across the stream.Tha't what keeps you going out I suppose. As to the ancestry of those beasties, if some four legged critter is trying to eat me, I probably won't take the time to ask about its bloodline. Wolves probably won't try to catch me or my dog again, but I keep my tree climbing skills polished up. You know, just in case.
View from the front porch as night falls over the Ouachitas.
Frank....
