The Beagler’s Wife
by Debbie Bruner
The Lady has a heart of gold, she had to, so I’ve been told.
Her husband hunts from sun to sun, his chores at home left undone.
He’s the greatest guy you’ll ever meet, until you put Beagles at his feet.
When November rolls around, she knows she’ll find him with a hound.
Four months of hunting she must withstand, and run the fort with a mighty hand.
She says the leaves need raking, he says the puppies need breaking.
She says the garage is a mess, he says Squeaky is the best.
She says the plumbing is leaking, he says my shotgun trigger is sticking.
She says the kids are driving me crazy, he says my best hound has got lazy.
She says the firewood needs cutting, he says can’t now, the rabbits will soon be rutting.
She says the weatherman’s calling for snow, he says a bunny hunting we will go.
She says I can’t wait till February rolls around, he says times a wasting, I should be running a hound.
She has the patience of a Saint, she can’t remember how many times she’s heard “I can’t.”
The lady has a heart of gold, she has to, so I’ve been told.
She’s a dedicated wife, friend and mother, and she has to be a Beagle lover.
by Kathie Ward
Red, Sally, and Dear Old Ring, they can run a rabbit and make it sing.
Sally is Ring’s little girl you know, Red’s just a sweetheart or so I’ve been told.
Old Ring strikes a hare, Sally makes the jump, then all of a sudden Red takes the front.
Thirteen year Old Ring trails along, the music lasts forever, it’s his favorite song.
The race lasts all day, or so it seems, I finally catch the Beagles as I hear the last scream.
My husband is as tired as the dogs I know, for he hasn’t felt good for a day or so.
But the love of his Beagles seems to make him go.
The dogs jump a rabbit, the race is on, the smile on his face says the pain is gone.
This love the LORD gave him is strong and true, they’ll be together until it’s all through.
I hope its a long time, for as you all know, I love him a lot and now I must go.
by William Tomatich
The Hunter let the tailgate down,
to free the waiting Hounds.
And while he gathered shells and Gun,
He heard their baying sounds.
The Dogs have got a Rabbit up,
He knows they’ll come around.
The Rabbit doubles back, and Then,
heads for safer ground.
But the Dogs were bred for the chase.
Their noses for trails uncoiling.
The Rabbit, also bred to race,
Uses tricks in foiling.
Now he hears them coming near.
and gets into possession.
They’ve made a loss, again I fear.
Find that elusive magician.
A Shell is slipped into the Breech,
Much, Just out of habit.
For he can tell by their speech,
Tis not a one trick Rabbit.
And if you ask me how He knew,
I’d say It was a Hunch.
For the Dogs can lose a thousand times,
The Rabbit only once.
THE FIELD TRIAL
by William Tomatich
Through the Squat,
the beaters came.
Holding sticks in Hand.
So intent upon the game,
was each and every man.
Intent to have the Rabbit out,
they wandered to and fro.
Untill someone amoung them shout.
we have a Tally Ho.
Through the grass the Rabbit flees,
His trail is left unseen.
He’ll take refuage in the trees,
but not from noses keen.
The dogs are placed upon the line.
The timer is at hand.
It’s time to show what the dogs can do.
The’ll need no help from man.
The sent is struck, the dogs are freed,
they all sound off in kind.
It’s not so much speed they need
as accuracy on the line.
And the Rabbit may not be seen again,
nor do they really care.
The trail, to them, is the end.
and not the running Hare.
by Debbie Bruner
R is for the rabbit that you run with style.
A is for the ability you have to make me smile.
B is for the Beagle babies you give us with pride.
B is for the bragging we do and the bloopers we try to hide.
I is for the intelligence you have, that most of us don’t give you credit for.
T is for the timeless pleasure you give that no one has thanked you for.
D is for the devilment that you might get into.
A is for the grade, I would give to you.
W is for the willingness you have to always do your best.
G is for the game of laziness you play, when you want to rest.
S is for the stamina you have when you are put to the test.
Put all together, you have two simple words RABBIT DAWGS, the ones that give it their best!
Ode To A Champion
by John Van Dam
Have you ever yearned for a Beagle that won’t run a deer?
After chasing mine through the countryside, a deer chase I fear.
Weary after trying to catch ‘um, the frustration I must confide.
After days of trying to break ‘um, that last chase I couldn’t abide.
A Christmas time phone call led me to a man with a claim.
“His beagle’s wouldn’t run deer,” was a statement to his fame.
My hopes were high as I found my way to his snowy drive.
Can you imagine my total surprise, to see all the deer as I arrived.
There were deer everywhere, and the puzzle would unfold.
“He raised them for hunting clubs,” the story I was told.
Would you be wanting to pursue deer that seemed so bold?
The Beagles became very passive around the deer kept in their fold.
The gentlemen’s daughter was named Bear, and she led me to the pups.
I asked her to pick one out, there were none that looked like runts.
“Take that one there,” she said, “That one will win the prize.”
I don’t know how she could tell because, no one could decide by their size.
She was born in Hemingway country, so I sought an appropriate name.
“Susie The Last Good Country” was the title by which she gained fame.
Her first home was a box in the kitchen, warmed by the woodburning stove.
Susie developed her sense of smell waiting for fresh bread after it rose.
At five months Susie was a pleasant surprise, as she circled a rabbit alone.
The old dogs stood in stark wonder — even they were impressed with her nose.
She is now a UKC Champion, and I am happy to say.
“Susie has never chased a deer as of the end of today’s sun’s rays.
(Dedicated to HBCH SUSIE’S LAST GOOD COUNTRY)
by Mary Lou Lynch Sartor
I thought I heard my father, Calling in the hounds
Remembrance of yesterday, Old familiar sounds
Many days I followed, As he ambled down the trail
When it came to getting up a rabbit, The hounds would never fail
I thought I heard the whistle, That always sent a chill
Bringing them back to the scent, As they ran a loss on some distant hill
I thought I heard Ol’Benson, With his husky wail
When it came to showing up the others, He would always prevail
Now the hounds are silent, The old Beagler has passed away
The music of those hounds, Still follows me today
by Debbie Bruner
Be safe you hunters, today’s the day, be sure to watch for others along the way.
Whether its rabbit, deer, or bear handle your weapons with care.
Wear your orange and your warm boots, and be very careful of what you shoot.
Remember there are others out there, who might not take time and care.
Be cautious when you’re on someone’s land, so you can hunt there again.
Remember that your gun is loaded and keep the safety on while its toted.
Your knife is sharp to peel the skin, remember it will cut you or maybe a friend.
It never hurts to take a compass, a first aid kit, and a warm thermos.
A walking stick you might need, a slithering creature you might see.
A rain coat and a pair of gloves, depending on what the weather does.
Briar britches are a must, they will get you through the rough.
Never shoot without good aim, be sure its a rabbit or fare game.
Be sure your dogs have day glow collars to be seen a night if they cross the hollow.
Be safe you hunters and take care, your family loves you, but beware.
We want you to enjoy and have fun, and when the long day is done, come home from hunting with a smile, for you were safe all the while.
by Mike Pollack
Icey black, Daybreak cracks, Dogs lead men on rabbit tracks
Nose to ground, Beagle hound, What a luscious scent I found
Something furry, Here did scurry, Spoor is stronger have to hurry
Grass pressed warm, Rabbit’s form, Bunny here ate lilly corn
Way up there, Flushed a hare, Gonna get it have to tear
Dodging – sneaking, Leaping – streaking, Both adrenalins are peaking
Hop and bound, He’s gone to ground, I get to make my hound-found-sound
Aroooooh, Aroooooh, Aroooooh to you, I found the hare, he’s here it’s true
I’m first – it’s me, The hare to see, Aroooooh it’s Snoop, Aroooooh look see
Men arrive, Pack they drive, Damn it’s good to be alive
Home ahead, Warm soft bed, Dreams of rabbits dance in my head
Alone On A Chain
by Debbie Potts
I wish someone would tell me, what it is that I’ve done wrong?
Why I have to stay chained up, and left alone so long.
They seemed so glad to have me, when I came here as a Beagle pup.
There were so many things we’d do as a family, while I was growing up.
They couldn’t wait to train me, as a companion, hunter, and a friend.
And told me how I should never fear, about being left alone again.
The children said they’d feed me, and brush me everyday.
They’d play, walk, and run me, if I could only stay.
But now my family “hasn’t time,” they often say I shed.
They do not even want me in the house, not even to be fed.
The children never spend time with me, they always say “Not now!”
I wish that I could please my family, won’t someone tell me how?
You see, all I’ve ever had to give — was LOVE, now I wish they would explain,
why they said they wanted me, then left me alone on a chain?
A Beagles Plea
by Kimberly Kurta
TREAT ME KINDLY, MY BELOVED FRIEND, FOR NO HEART IN THE WORLD IS MORE GRATEFUL FOR KINDNESS THAN THE LOVING HEART OF MINE. DO NOT BREAK MY SPIRIT WITH A STICK, FOR I MIGHT LICK YOUR HAND BETWEEN BLOWS. SPEAK TO ME OFTEN, FOR YOUR VOICE IS THE WORLD’S SWEETEST MUSIC, AS YOU MUST KNOW BY THE FIERCE WAGGING OF MY TAIL WHEN THE SOUNDS OF YOUR FOOTSTEPS FALL UPON MY WAITING EARS. KEEP MY PAN FILLED WITH FRESH WATER FOR I CAN’T TELL YOU WHEN I SUFFER THIRST. FEED ME CLEAN FOOD SO I STAY WELL TO HUNT, PLAY AND WALK BY YOU. AND MY FRIEND, WHEN I’M VERY OLD AND I NO LONGER ENJOY GOOD HEALTH, HEARING AND GOOD SIGHT, DO NOT TAKE HEROIC EFFORTS TO KEEP ME GOING. ONCE I AM NO LONGER HAVING FUN, PLEASE BE SURE THAT MY TRUSTING LIFE IS TAKEN GENTLY.
Walkn’ In A Doggy Winter Wonderland
by Unknown Poet
Dog tags ring, are you listenin’?
In the lane, snow is glistenin’.
It’s yellow, NOT white – I’ve been there tonight,
Marking up my winter wonderland.
Smell that tree? That’s my fragrance.
It’s a sign for wand’ring vagrants;
“Avoid where I pee, it’s MY pro-per-ty!
Marked up as my winter wonderland.”
In the meadow dad will build a snowman,
following the classical design.
Then I’ll lift my leg and let it go Man,
So all the world will know it’s
Straight from me to the fencepost,
flows my natural incense boast;
“Stay off of my TURF, this small piece of earth,
I mark it as my winter wonderland.
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