Pleasure hunting with Larry and Roy

I was privileged to entertain PKC CEO Larry Meeks and President Roy Tramble this weekend for two nights of pleasure hunting on my home turf. I’ve been after Larry, Roy, as well as Roger Carnegie to make the trip up to the land of the big lakes to sample what I call a coon hunter’s paradise since I joined the organization nearly five years ago. Finally the goal, at least in part was realized this weekend when Larry and Roy took a detour on their trip to the Shelbyville, Indiana “pro hunt” to come up and hunt a couple of nights with me.

Watching the weather forecast all week, I was fairly comfortable that hunting conditions would be favorable. We had 50-degree weather the first three days of the week but on Thursday, the day Larry and Roy were to arrive the wind shifted, coming out of the north and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. Light rain showers turned to snow flurries suggesting strongly that the coon would be taking a holiday in their dens. After all the boasting I had done about the coon population and hunting territory we have here, I prepared my palate for the taste of crow.

Thursday night, after consuming hot bowls of beef stew and heaps of cornbread muffins we headed to the timber. Larry was hunting a pair of Pac Man-bred Walker males named Hitler and Image. Roy brought along a nice male out of Texas Lotto named Cash and a young female out of Larry’s Image dog he calls Baby Doll. I loaded my Plott pup Laredo.

As expected the coon didn’t move at this the first sign of cold weather in awhile and we managed to tree only two on the outside before calling it a night. Needless to say, my spirits weren’t very good. Although we had a great time, the night fell far short of my expectations and of theirs, I’m sure. They tried to reassure me that no one can control the weather but I wasn’t comforted much. I really wanted this hunt to be one they would remember. The forecast looked better for Friday and Larry was confident the coons would not lay up two nights in a row. Roy was not so sure about that and I found myself hoping that Larry was right. As it turned out, he was.

Friday was spent taking care of some PKC business at my office and touring some of my favorite outdoor stores here in the Kalamazoo area. Michigan has a wealth of opportunities for outdoors enthusiasts it’s not hard to find an outfitter store or a gun shop nearby. Roy was looking for long underwear and I noticed him buying a pair of insulated gloves. I hoped he wouldn’t need them as the day dwindled down toward dark-thirty.

I saved one of my honey holes for night number two. Anyone who has been here to hunt knows the place I call the gravel pit. It offers a two-mile long section of timber, pockmarked with potholes and bordered to the south by a huge marsh. To the north it’s bordered by corn and bean fields that are separated by timbered fence rows. In terms of habitat for coons, it has everything to offer. Two-track lanes lace the entire property affording the opportunity to drive to many of the trees. On this night I took Annie, a four-year old Plott female along with Laredo to join the quartet of Walkers. As is the custom up here, the plan was to drop two or three dogs at a time.

The first track of the night saw Hitler, Baby Doll, and Annie making a den right out of the box. It was a hollow oak sitting along the edge of one of the pothole swamps. We cast the same dogs to the south and Hitler and Baby Doll soon were working a track along the edge of yet another pothole while Annie, true to form found another track to the east. Hitler and Baby Doll would hole their track, prompting me to realize that more coon tracks are going to ground this year than usual. The last track of the night on Thursday had holed and by the time we got to them, Cash and Baby Doll had dug the coon out. At any rate, Annie got treed out on an oak flat to the east and we drove nearly to her. I was proud of the job she had done and tried to graciously accept the compliments that ensued. She had a young-of-the-year sow up a tall oak and with the aid of the .22, we rewarded her for her work. With Annie back in the box, we listened as Hitler and Baby Doll struck another track and worked it out on the edge of the big marsh, treeing in a vine-choked water oak that once again produced coon eyes and a reward to the Walkers for a job well done.

With Annie, Hitler, and Baby Doll back in the box, we released Cash and Image into the woods along the edge of a harvested bean field and got a strike right away. Cash, a classic tree dog in every sense of the word got hooked pretty quickly. He trees with a never-ending cadence that would satisfy any lover of good tree dogs. Larry and I walked in and shined his tree. It was tall oak with several stubborn leaves still hanging on and we didn’t find a coon.

In the meantime, Image was working a drifting track to the west. We cast Cash in his direction and after a brief period, could hear the hounds come on the wood, about a quarter to a half-mile distant. In keeping with my plan to keep Mr. Roy on top of the action without walking him to death, I drove around. We determined the dogs to be about a quarter of a mile to the east of our vantage point on a two-track that ran along a fence row separating two harvested bean fields. Walking a fence row back to the hounds we quickly realized they were split treed in a fence row running perpendicular to our route of travel. The night was crisp and still and those two Walker stallions were talking tree dog talk with style!

Of course Larry went to his hound Image as I headed about fifty yards on up the fence row to Cash. Larry tells me going in that he sees Image’s coon. As I get to Cash, my primary inspection reveals a gray bulk with ringed tail attached against the inky backdrop of the night sky - a double! I keyed the walkie talkie to tell Roy they were split and each had the meat and he echoed my pleasure. As the .22 cracked each coon tumbled to the ground running our count to four Michigan ringtails. A glance at the watch reveals the time to be 10:30. This is more like the hunt I had planned.

After a coffee and raisin cookie break, we cut Laredo and Baby Doll loose to the west down a two-track into the woods. After a longer than expected break in the action, I hear the Plott come on the wood. I can tell by the pauses, and the length of the locating barks that he’s not betting the farm on this tree. Baby Doll opens to the North and must have the track going away. Laredo packs his bags and puts in with her and at this point, the night gets interesting.

We had driven down a woods lane to get nearer to Laredo before realizing the coon had headed north. As we turned the truck around, we heard a blast that Larry is sure was a shotgun, coming from the direction the dogs have headed. Confident that we have no dog shooters in the area but realizing deer season is in and that landowners may be a little tender to the idea of dogs messing up tomorrow’s hunt, I decide we better get around there. We drive out to the paved roadway and head toward the dogs that are treed on a ridge to the south. A house light glimmers through the timber at the end of the lane. I drive back to ask permission to retrieve the hounds and am met by a man and woman in a new Toyota Camry who have driven down from the house. I immediately apologize for the interruption to an otherwise quiet evening at home in the Michigan woods and they say, “No problem.” They want to know if these are hunting dogs and if so, what are they after? I tell them we are raccoon hunting on another landowner’s property and the dogs have treed a coon on their land. I start to ask them if it’s okay to take the coon but I decide not to push my luck. We thank them and head back to what I call the epicenter of this magnificent hunting spot. I want to see the looks on their faces when I show them what I think is one of the most beautiful spots on earth. The shotgun blast remains a mystery. My theory is that someone heard the dogs barking and fired the shot to share them away.

We drive back a woods lane along a ridge that borders the big marsh. Rounding a curve in the two-track road, an ancient log cabin emerges from its vantage point overlooking the marsh, surrounded by century-old oak and beech sentinels. I remark to them that when I’m too old to hit the road or the computer keyboard I could easily finish my days right here in these woods. We take the opportunity to use a large rock that sits in front of the cabin as the centerpiece for a photo of Roy with Cash and Baby Doll and Larry with Image and Hitler. We sip our coffees and talk about the beauty of the place. Larry remarked that he needed a cabin like this on his place in Indiana. We all agreed that life just doesn’t get much better than this.

Somehow, Baby Doll has pulled an escape act before Roy can get her back in the truck. At Larry’s prompting, I release Annie. After a considerable period of no action, I become antsy to show the fellows another coon. When Baby Doll checked in, confirming my fears that coon were not moving especially after seeing a coon sitting up within 50 feet of the cabin unbeknownst to the dogs we drive back around the marsh to the fields and I can hear Annie deep to the west. We drive back to cabin and it sounds like she is working a cold track through the marsh to the south. I decide we will drive out of the section with the hope that we can intercept her on the south side of the marsh. Experience tells me that I don’t want to tackle that bad boy tonight.

We drive around and all was quiet. Again, I want to get the guys back in the action and suggest we leave her in the section and go tree another coon or two before returning for her. Larry doesn’t want to leave her but I assure him she will be fine and he concedes.

From the gravel pit section we drive about four miles west and pull up onto a ridge on a lane leading south. We cast Larry’s two hounds to the west and with the image of them running pronto toward the woods still registering on my retinas, we hear Hitler strike in the woods to the southwest. Image soon joins in and it proves to be one of the quickies for which Michigan is noted. Arriving at the tree, we spot the coon and bring it down for a closer inspection. With the dogs satisfied, we take hounds, the raccoon, the rifle, and a feeling of deep satisfaction that only a lover of tree dogs can know, back to the trucks.

We loaded up and drove west and pulled onto a farm lane that borders a strip of woods sitting on ridge running east and west. We cut Cash, Baby Doll, and Laredo loose. The strike came quickly and soon we can tell they are in the ground. Before Larry and Roy could get to them and while I was busy skinning coons, the dogs left the hole and crossed a weed field toward the road, heading north. The action picked up fast and soon we were hearing tree dog music again. We drove back to the road and a scant hundred yards to the east we find them treed right along the edge of the field with a fair-sized Michigan ringtail peering down from a rusty-leafed oak. Down came coon number six to Cash, Baby Doll, and Laredo.

I had planned another drop nearby when Larry said, “Let’s go find your female, Steve.” I could tell he was concerned about her and so we headed back to the gravel pit section to locate her. We came in this time from the north and just as I brought the tracking system into play, I heard her come treed, deep to the east. Again, I was able to drive within 50 yards of the tree where she had a young-of-the-year boar on a limb. Coon number seven soon rounded out our bag for the night. By now, the time was about 3:30 AM and we were beginning to feel the pinch of a pretty-much action filled night.

Five coon lay in the bed of my pickup, yet to be skinned and so Larry did the holding while I did the knife work. As we peeled the pelts off the carcasses, we made a commitment to get together for a Michigan pleasure hunt again at the earliest opportunity. I told them they had helped me to realize a 5-year goal to have them come hunt with me. Despite Thursday’s chill, I was relieved to see the weather improve and our hunt of Friday night to be what I had always planned for them. They agreed it had been a perfect night for hunting and we promised to get back together for a pleasure hunt as soon as possible. It had been difficult to keep away from the telephones but we had managed to fill our ears and our hearts for that matter with hound music instead of the daily ration of PKC-related calls. As much as we like our jobs, I think we would have to admit we were equally grateful for that.

We had a lot of laughs over the two days as is expected when this group gets together. Throughout the weekend, we were continually looking for Roy’s leash. Twice it showed up on my Laredo dog in the dog box. I figured Roy just wanted a fine hound on his leash. He said I just liked the leash so much I was determined to keep it. At any rate, I think Roy headed back to Kentucky with it. But then, I haven’t checked my dog box since last night.

I kept thinking today, as I gave the guys a send off to Shelbyville where they hoped to make the 6:00 PM Pro Hunt deadline, just how fortunate I am to be associated with a great organization like PKC. The idea of working and hunting with great guys like Larry and Roy is an added feature that few other jobs could afford. Thanks fellows and I hope you will come back to the land of the big lakes real soon. And here’s a special message to Mr. Roy. Don’t forget to have Eula Bell to pack your longjohns!

Photo Caption: (Left) Roy Tramble with Cash and Baby Doll, on left and Larry Meeks on right with Image and Hitler with four Michigan raccoons caught on a picture perfect November night.

Photo Caption: (Right) PKC CEO Larry Meeks takes a turn at the skinning chores.