The air was cool and a very light patchy fog drifted around us as we loaded the dogs in the boxes. Uncle "NoPass" Ted decided he would ride with me in my old CJ-5. He clamored up into it despite his 82 years and immediately launched into a story about how he wanted to be a driver in the army, but they decided he made a better point man in a rifle unit in the pacific. Three years, nine months and twenty two days. Thank him and the ones like him on Monday. He spun a few more tales that I really didn’t hear above the hum of the mudders as we rolled down the highway, but that was okay, I had heard them enough to be able to repeat them with him.
We hunted the old clay pits below Cuz’s house. It’s a low lying area that tends to collect water and hold it in holes and ponds scattered in the calf high grass that surrounded “islands” of thick briars and honey suckle. The short grass made for a nice landing strip for the huge mosquitoes that breed in the area. A loud splash was frequently followed by sputtered cussing by someone who didn’t see a hole in the grass or got dropped when a mosquito lost its grip. The main trails (roads) are good despite the gummy red clay because the brick company hauled in broken bricks and chips to sort of pave them. If you get off the main trails, you do so at your own peril despite four wheel drive because the wet clay packs in the mudders and turns them into giant slicks that just spin on top.

The dogs started hot trailing as soon as they were released from their dog boxes. Panicked, the rabbit vacated one of these islands a few steps ahead of the dogs and raced away in a short loop. There is no finer music in this world than the sound of short legged beagles running hot and hard as they fall over each other trying to be the lead dog chasing a rabbit they can see in the short grass.

The rabbit popped back into our view sprinting out of a shallow ditch to one side of Uncle NoPass. Showing why he spent so much time on point, he snapped around and fired a shot from his single shot 20ga. The 7 1/2 shot staggered, but didn’t drop the racing bunny. The rabbit raced into a hole in a two story mesa of clay with the dogs and NoPass right behind. Uncle NoPass's grandson, Brag, grabbed NoPass by the belt while he was on his hands and knees, halfway inside the crack struggling to reach the rabbit and pulled him back out while I kept the dogs from trying to follow into the newly vacated hole. Those holes collapsed all the time and we didn’t want to have to explain to my aunt about losing a dog. Or Uncle NoPass either.

NoPass had been bragging about his new dog that morning. “She’s a good’ un. Want run nothing but a rabbit” he told us over and over. The dogs started trailing again . Judy and Maggie, Cuz’s two dogs nosed around looking a little confused as NoPass's dogs trailed through the grass. Judy and Maggie came back to us and sat down with a air that said “ They’re lying. There ain’t no rabbit there” just as the other dogs lit out bawling and crying their way across the field and out of hearing with Uncle NoPass's new puppy in the lead….running a deer. NoPass stood there for a minute and finally said “That sure was a big rabbit, wasn’t it?”

We closed out the day with four rabbits. Proving once again that even a blind hog….. I killed the smallest rabbit of the day. Usually, I just try to speed them up a little. You know, to make it a little more sporting for the other hunters. But since it’s harder to hit such a small running target, I went ahead and rolled him as he zigzagged through the grass. Uncle NoPass said I must have had made a pretty fair shot to hit something that small. How did you get him to stop so you could hit him