for our guest and her entourage in the cool early morning at the 431 end of Poor House Road. When they pulled up, Brag asked “How far in do you think they’ll make it ” referring to the logging roads leading into the property

“Oh, about as far as your Toy truck ”
I suppose I shouldn’t have been to snide since I had talked Brag into using his truck instead of the pathfinder today on the basis of gas costs.

Ruby, our tricolored guest, appeared to have the run of the pretty, shinny, polished, and very White vehicle and came with her own entourage, chauffeur and quality of life givers, Mark and Susie. Still, the vehicle looked like it would have trouble going over speed bumps in the grocery store parking lot, much less some of the holes on our firebreaks.
One of the good things I noticed as I went to unlock the gate, the lock was covered in spider webs and no tracks in the crusty drying clay. Good, that means Tiny and crew were busy making amends to the families for their spring fish and turkey forays. Which followed their February rabbit season that followed the gun deer season which followed the bow season for deer which followed the dove season which followed the fall fishing season which followed the previous summer’s couch season. And that meant that the mud hadn’t been churned up from the recent rains.

Brag and I watched the rear view mirrors as we pulled past the ruts that were mostly dry of standing water but had a thick gummy bottom.
It’s just right.
I’ll have to bring the now cleaned up pathfinder to apply some new undercoating. Allowed to satisfactorily dry, the coating only falls off in the occasional large clump. But still, periodic reapplications are needed.

Oh, back to the mirrors. We weren’t to sure of the chauffeur’s off road ability or Ruby’s desire to have her vehicle desert the more natural environment of most SUV drivers: pavement. It turned out to be an easy drive, though the once pristine whiteness of the suv now had the reddish clay spray marks on the body.

It wasn’t a bad day, just not a good one as far as races go. The cool fresh morning would give way to a Alabama spring day with temperatures in the lower 90’s and the Rabbit Journal pack sounded like a lawnmower with old gas (Hey, why not re-re-re…use that line?). Two minor races, but the dogs never really got started enough for the music to put a grin on your face.

I ended up having to do all the briar busting since Brag Couldn’t Find his snake chaps. He wouldn’t get into the bushes after seeing the picture of the timber rattler, so it was up to me to fight the chiggers and ticks. There were a few minor demonstrations of my levitating ability during the course of the morning, but most turned out to be caused by sticks and vines.

Now Ruby hadn’t had the rabbit hunting education that the Rabbit Journal pack has had, but you could see good instincts. The main problem is she doesn’t have any pack sense. That’s something that can be cured with exposure to other hunting dogs….in most cases. I wish we had remembered to test Ruby for gun shyness.

I’m sorry to say, I didn’t get a shot of Ruby cooling off in a tire rut, filled with soupy mixture of water and Alabama red clay. But I did get this shot as she prepared for her bath. Yep, that's where Tiny throws out his fish remains.