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Authors: Daniel P. Mannix
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idea what was the matter.
Then one morning where a power line ran between a multi-flora hedge and a wire fence covered with honeysuckle, Copper hit a fox scent he remembered. It was the fox who had run the rails and had been lying up on the hill that day. Copper spoke on the line without much enthusiasm, as he was now convinced that everything he did was wrong. As usual, he was ordered to track, and he followed the line to the hanks of a little creek where the fox had trotted across fresh mud to drink. As soon as the Master had examined the mud, his whole attitude changed. Copper sensed the excitement in his voice as he ordered, "Go get 'em, boy!" Copper wagged his thin tail, expecting to have the lead unsnapped, but the Master repeated the order and the astonished hound realized he was supposed to track while still on the lead. Disappointed but obedient, he set off. He was still tracking when night came and the scent grew no warmer, but the Master seemed pleased.
For the next few days, Copper tracked the fox until he knew the animal's regular route almost perfectly, even though the Master always stopped him when they approached the culvert and the hillside. Copper had not the slightest trouble in distinguishing between this particular fox and other foxes, just as he could easily tell the scent of an individual man from man scent in general. After a few errors, Copper learned that the Master was interested only in this especial animal, so the hound ignored other fox trails and concentrated on the now familiar scent. Except for the unusual concentration on an individual scent, Copper perfectly understood what the Master was up to now, for he had played this game with him many times. Yet never before had the Master been so determined to trace out the entire nightly run of a fox, and Copper grew heartily tired of the business and eager for the climax that he knew was coming.
There had been a cold spell and every morning the ground was covered with frost; so scenting had been difficult, if not impossible, until after the sun rose and the frozen earth released its odors. Then came a warm night. Copper was still sleeping when he heard the Master's footstep and his name spoken. At once the old hound wormed his way out of the barrel and jumped delightedly on the Master, for he knew this must be the day.
It was. The Master had no lead and was carrying his shotgun. There was a fog; but this did not bother the hound, as he made comparatively little use of his eyes anyhow. Scenting conditions were perfect and Copper happily sucked in lungfuls of the air, noting and separating the multitudinous odors that came to him. After the long freeze he felt as happy as though he had been locked up in a dark cellar and the light had finally been turned on.
They started off, stopping and picking up two men at different farmhouses on the way. Both men carried guns, and Copper recognized them by their odor as old hunting friends of the Master's. The men made much of Copper; and he enthusiastically responded, for now there was no doubt whatsoever about the purpose of the expedition. When these two men went with the Master, they always came back with a fox.
The sun was up now and the fog was breaking up into rags of mist, lifting like steam from the warm earth, As they drove past farmhouses, Copper could smell smoke from the chimneys, always a good sign, for it meant the smoke was lying low instead of straight up and the scent would also hug the ground instead of rising over his head. In spite of his eagerness, Copper made it a point to lie quietly as the car bumped over the washboard roads, for he knew he had a long run ahead of him and would need all the rest he could get now.
The car stopped and Copper shook himself and prepared to rise, but the Master was only dropping off one of the men. Copper recognized the spot; it was the crossing where the multiflora hedge and overgrown wire fence intersected. Copper watched with a professional eye while
Then one morning where a power line ran between a multi-flora hedge and a wire fence covered with honeysuckle, Copper hit a fox scent he remembered. It was the fox who had run the rails and had been lying up on the hill that day. Copper spoke on the line without much enthusiasm, as he was now convinced that everything he did was wrong. As usual, he was ordered to track, and he followed the line to the hanks of a little creek where the fox had trotted across fresh mud to drink. As soon as the Master had examined the mud, his whole attitude changed. Copper sensed the excitement in his voice as he ordered, "Go get 'em, boy!" Copper wagged his thin tail, expecting to have the lead unsnapped, but the Master repeated the order and the astonished hound realized he was supposed to track while still on the lead. Disappointed but obedient, he set off. He was still tracking when night came and the scent grew no warmer, but the Master seemed pleased.
For the next few days, Copper tracked the fox until he knew the animal's regular route almost perfectly, even though the Master always stopped him when they approached the culvert and the hillside. Copper had not the slightest trouble in distinguishing between this particular fox and other foxes, just as he could easily tell the scent of an individual man from man scent in general. After a few errors, Copper learned that the Master was interested only in this especial animal, so the hound ignored other fox trails and concentrated on the now familiar scent. Except for the unusual concentration on an individual scent, Copper perfectly understood what the Master was up to now, for he had played this game with him many times. Yet never before had the Master been so determined to trace out the entire nightly run of a fox, and Copper grew heartily tired of the business and eager for the climax that he knew was coming.
There had been a cold spell and every morning the ground was covered with frost; so scenting had been difficult, if not impossible, until after the sun rose and the frozen earth released its odors. Then came a warm night. Copper was still sleeping when he heard the Master's footstep and his name spoken. At once the old hound wormed his way out of the barrel and jumped delightedly on the Master, for he knew this must be the day.
It was. The Master had no lead and was carrying his shotgun. There was a fog; but this did not bother the hound, as he made comparatively little use of his eyes anyhow. Scenting conditions were perfect and Copper happily sucked in lungfuls of the air, noting and separating the multitudinous odors that came to him. After the long freeze he felt as happy as though he had been locked up in a dark cellar and the light had finally been turned on.
They started off, stopping and picking up two men at different farmhouses on the way. Both men carried guns, and Copper recognized them by their odor as old hunting friends of the Master's. The men made much of Copper; and he enthusiastically responded, for now there was no doubt whatsoever about the purpose of the expedition. When these two men went with the Master, they always came back with a fox.
The sun was up now and the fog was breaking up into rags of mist, lifting like steam from the warm earth, As they drove past farmhouses, Copper could smell smoke from the chimneys, always a good sign, for it meant the smoke was lying low instead of straight up and the scent would also hug the ground instead of rising over his head. In spite of his eagerness, Copper made it a point to lie quietly as the car bumped over the washboard roads, for he knew he had a long run ahead of him and would need all the rest he could get now.
The car stopped and Copper shook himself and prepared to rise, but the Master was only dropping off one of the men. Copper recognized the spot; it was the crossing where the multiflora hedge and overgrown wire fence intersected. Copper watched with a professional eye while
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