I did not intend to be stuck deep in the woods on a moonless night, one so dark you could feel the blackness wrap around you. But two of my beagles saw to it that New Year’s Eve 2018 was a memorable one, although less than celebratory. Anyone who has owned beagles will tell you that the breed instinctively are masterful escape artists.
I’ve had beagles that dug out of their kennels, chewed out, and even climbed out like a monkey. I had one that climbed a 6-foot chicken-wire fence, looped her front legs through the mesh of an 18-inch-wide overhang, then swung like a chimp until her back feet landed on top of the fence. She then jumped down to freedom and began looking for some mischief to get into.
Beagles like to roam to find some scent they can trail, whether it’s that of a cottontail rabbit, a whitetail deer, or even a possum or a raccoon – or a house cat. When that scent runs out they find another to trail until they end up a long ways from home.
So, it was this common trait of the breed that led me deep into the dark woods on a night made even darker by a heavy, dark overcast sky. I had gone late in the afternoon to my kennels to feed the dogs and discovered two of my female beagles were gone. One was Walking Tall Bessie, who has four licensed trial wins and is just 24 points shy of her AKC Championship. The other was her daughter, Up The Creek Cherry Vanilla, less than two years old, who shows a lot of promise. I certainly did not want to lose either of them.
They had found a weak spot in the chain-link near the bottom and worried it until it gave way enough so they could squeeze through. It was almost dark when I discovered they were gone, too late to start an effective search, so I figured I’d spend New Year’s Day walking the woods around the house and riding up and down adjoining roads, looking for them.
Later in the evening, well after dark, I heard a dog barking at the kennels, so I walked out on the front porch just to listen. Between the barks of one dog in the kennel I thought I heard a sound, not much more than a murmur, far down in the woods. I could not tell if it was a dog barking or the few leaves left on the trees rustling in the slight breeze. It was just a low, indistinct sound, just enough to make me think that there was something happening way down in the woods.
So, I grabbed my flashlight and a leash and started walking. Past the dog kennels, past the big oak that blew down during a violent storm a few years ago, down the hill towards the dry creek bottom. The deeper in the woods I went the thicker the trees and brush became. With that dark cloud cover the only light was my flashlight beam and the occasional burst of fireworks in the dark sky. But the further I went the louder the murmur grew, almost like the hum of a small engine.
Finally, the hum turned into the sound of a dog working a scent trail, barking track to track. Then another dog chimed in with a distinct recognizable bark. That’s Bessie, I thought! I zeroed in on the sound and soon spotted a white form between the trees in the darkness. I knew immediately that it wasn’t Bessie but Cherry Vanilla, so named because she is mostly white with some lemony-red markings, including a cherry-like spot on her back. I caught another movement in the flashlight shadows behind Vanilla. It was Bessie, more traditional in Beagle coloration – brown with a black blanket.
They were reluctant to leave whatever it was they were trailing, but I managed to hook both dogs to a leash and started back in the direction that I thought was towards my kennels. I knew it was uphill, but it was a really steep hill! You need solid homing instincts walking through the woods on a dark night or you can wind up a long ways from where you want to be.
I was zig-zagging my way up the slope, but not seeing anything familiar in the flashlight beam, until finally the dogs in the kennels heard us tromping through the woods and began howling. I zeroed in on that serenade and soon broke through the woods where the flashlight picked up the gleam of the chain-link fence at the kennels. A few more steps and I finally saw the porch light of my house in the distance.
The deep woods can be a strange and foreboding place on a dark night. It’s always a relief to reach a point where you see something familiar and know you have made it out safe and sound. Bessie and Vanilla were soon ensconced in a secure kennel and neither they nor any of the other dogs seemed to be bothered by the fireworks blasting away in the neighborhoods nearby. Then I was finally able to welcome in the New Year and get to sleep without worrying about where my dogs could be.
New Year’s Eve started off on a sad note, but Jan. 1 dawned on a very Happy New Year!