Renegade Hunting Dogs: Wanted Dead or Alive

Remember this: A bad apple on the ground and a good apple in the hand soon rots away. 

This is a potential sad tell of woe from the lowlands to the highlands. A particular version of Man's Best friend and its owner/hunter and how both finally feel the pressure exerted on them by "what is to come."

How foreboding.

I am sure by now you have seen the social media blitz around the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources calling town halls to give the public a voice to speak on the following for dog hunting:

Requiring dog registration and microchipping

Mandate year-round humane care

Require appropriate veterinary care

Accountability for loose or lost dogs

Meaningful penalties

Clear rules for trespass and dog recovery

Two town halls have been held in Florence SC and Orangeburg, SC.  The next townhall will be on Monday, August 10, 2025 between 6:30 pm and 8:00 pm on Hampton Street Auditorium, 494 Hampton Street Walterboro.

I was perusing these videos and taking note of what each person was saying. From the list above, its birthed from news stories that came out last year about inhumane cruelty in hunting kennels, or inappropriate treatment on hunts to hunting dogs. The other parts are animal care accountability. 

If you have a working dog that you claim is a family member you would expect it to be in good health. These stipulations appear to be good judgement because humane and veterinary care brings less disease spread to other working dogs and common decency to the animal. 

If a person can't take care of his/her hunting dog, how does that reflect on the person in the field? 

I have seen a hunter with his favorite hunting dog that he artificial inseminated have eighteen puppies and take them home only for them to die because he didn't want to bottle feed them because the momma dog couldn't. In the good old days, I can't believe I am saying that, hunting dogs were only tools to run animals and tree. If the dog was lost or died, they were a dime a dozen and could be replaced. Hopefully, the respect to a hunting dog has been elevated. 

Cooch deserves better because Cooch is the one doing the hunting. You just laying in wait like an assassin.

Its an organizational tactic in the field to outline guidelines so hunters don't take advantage of the law and their privileges, be accountable for their actions, act cruelly upon a working animal, or fain ignorance. Hunters at times cannot manage themselves in polite society or in private. Some are quite nefarious and spiteful. There are some that are straight up entitled on all fronts.

When a game warden is called down to private property where the landowner has Uncle Buck's prize hunting dog kidnapped in the tool shed, it would make it easier to identify the canine and return it to the owner without altercation. The officer can assess whether a clear trespass happened or if a law or regulations was not adhered to. 

If you are saying your dog is like your family then Cooch needs to get cited for trespass if Cooch is sporting. They could make an app for dog identification like the night hunting they offer property owners. At this point, this is new so maybe give Cooch a pass. I think they should have a APB of the dog that has the most trespasses so we know who the hardened criminals are. 

When you look at this where is the knee jerk reaction that dog hunting in South Carolina is under attack? It looks like the SCDNR is trying to refine it and set it up not to fail by removing potential legal hazards and angering the public. Safety first!

Other people's bad behavior brings the rule: if one breaks the law then punish the rest. You have to think that, well, someone didn't want to  be a responsible hunter and take care of his/her situation so he/she didn't bring attention to themselves or his/her fellow road riders. Shoutout to pronouns. Pronouns matter.

Lets talk about the road riders. The road rider that is the trouble source is the one that rides the two lane and parks on the side of the road, or rides around a property knowing there is hunting stands with people in a location. These road riders intentionally stops in the road, releases dogs across the adjoining properties to flush the deer out on the other side and it pisses the person that isn't doing all that moving around in the stand. I know. I have picked beagles and coon dogs up from under my stand or out my yard and drove them home like I was on a mystery date. I am talking to this hapless dog. Who are you? Where did you come from? Who is your daddy? Have you eaten yet? Why do you smell? I tend to buy them a hot dog with bottled water because sitting under the stand looking sad in 110 degree evening heat is diabolical.

To be honest with you, most of the time you probably know who these people are because they circle your area a lot. There is a way to undercut them but I am not putting that here. Eyes are everywhere and so is the Green Jeans.

Once a year, I watch people line the roads inside of a residential community and sit in front of people's houses trying to flush animals out that are near the houses. The pressure has driven them out the woods by people being in the woods, or dogs and people walking/running through the woods. This is a trap for murder. You have people on the other side in the road wielding guns and they are a car link apart. Someone in a tizzy to shoot a deer could accidently blast someone. What do they call them in England, a batter?  You have people walking to flush the deer though the woods and they walk up on someone that has beef with them and shoots them in the back. They swear that person stepped out from behind a tree. 

These are the same people that run stop signs. Oh, I didn't see it.

It appears to be true that in the top five, you are likely to be shot by someone that you go hunting with. Chose your hunting partners well.

Here is an example that happened this past deer season. I came home. My mother was in a panic and stated two vehicles were on the shoulder of the road in front of the house. One was behind a tree, the other was across the two lane with a dog box in the back. She returned home from the store. She heard a dog chasing something outside and went to look. She sees a deer run out from behind the house past her and follows it to see where it goes. Someone comes from behind the tree and fires a shell in the vicinity of her and the deer. The blue casing is still in the ditch to this day. I could have come home to my mother murdered in the side yard and never knew who did it if they drove off. These were dog hunters from a hunting club. I got pictures of the one vehicle and the plate with the dog box and called the Gamethief line. The girl answering the phone was not going to collect any info from me except my return call information. I had the plates and vehicle description. I told her to take it and put it in CAD because if something comes from it later as a repeat offender, it would be in the notes. Trust me when I say that I can make a whole post on this inability to transcribe information in the commission of a potential crime. If someone has evidence, take it. You never know when that bit of evidence or information could solve a case, either yours or someone else. 

Memory fades but cellphone pictures don't. 

In this particular situation, if a hunter is found to be practicing this as a flush method that could end a life, their license should be taken and they should be forced to retake a hunting safety class and not be allowed to park on roadsides for X amount of time. This smells like Bad Decisions all day and into the night.

Let us go back to the question. 

When you look at this where is the knee jerk reaction that dog hunting in South Carolina is under attack?

Lets ponder on.....

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Beagle Napper

Remember this: A good dog always keeps his nose either to the ground or in the air.

This evening I spent about two or three hours in a 12 acre Pine stand with a machete cutting off the lower limbs to make way for a tractor to drive through the rows. There were places riddled with briars. I was also keeping Deep Woods Off in business but the thought of poisoning myself with Deet and helping the mosquitoes spread West Nile didn't make no never mind to me. By the time I got through I had lost more than one battle with the thorned bush as the tale tell red marks were on my ankles. I was making my observations as I was walking through. The pine stand abuts a cotton field but has a grass road around it so one can drive a full circle around it. I was moving along at a relaxed pace whacking and looking at the ground. I noticed something heavy with a big split toe was visiting the spot. 

I thought that was interesting as there were not a lot of tracks to see there. Out on the sandy dirt road I could see the deer prints traveling up and down the drive. I walked along the cotton field. Nothing. Maybe it was Santa's reindeer I thought or a Jesus deer that could walk on water or not touch land? Probably not. One blister, one broken ax and a bad tick infestation later, my son and I went back to the ranch. I wanted to get this hanging feeder out of a tree because it was never used and there was another one left on a different tree. My son drove along the outside of a field in a fit to get revenge for almost tossing him and his friends out my truck. He almost tossed me: right into the bushes. Don't worry! I am an old pro. I held on for dear life. lmao.

Let me tell you. This kid was complaining about everything at this point but he was hungry. After we got this big J shaped PCV pipe I instructed him on which way to go. I got him to drive through the woods which he dubiously did. I don't think he trusts me sometimes? I got out and moved limbs for him. We finally got through the woods to the other side where I wanted to be and put up the feeder. Looking over the acreage you can see that the deer tore through it since they cut the pine stand from last year down by eating leaves and stripping anything green. Now in some places its like a tunnel system you would see underground. Dark and uninviting. One of my prospects was to grow ginger root in the area.

After we finished this I took my son home to feed him but then came back to sit in a stand in the far rear of the acreage. I figured I wouldn't see anything but got a little squirmy back there for some reason.

I will not lie. The other day I saw a buck come out the woods trailing his girls. Since then I have been anxious over this deer and worried someone else would shoot him before I did. Oh the horror! lmao. I have been mulling it over trying to figure out where to position myself to get this one buck. He runs slow and he holds his head like a Chinese goose that is about to attack. Down and forward. Moving he doesn't look very big. Maybe he is a midget deer. Big rack no substance? This buck is one of those kind that will sleep under your window at night then knock on it with his horns saying, "Haa haa. Here I am. You haven't got me yet, you moron."

Back to my train of thought, I was sitting in this stand being all squirmy and playing with a buck grunt. While I waited I tied this blistering bright orange nylon string onto the 30-30. I wanted it to hang across my back and not off my shoulder this way I could crawl in and out of tree without the butt of the gun hitting beneath me. I have no idea why but all day I was thinking in my mind that it wasn't a day to sit in a stand or be on the look out. As I was sitting there I thought I heard the voices of men but they sounded like they were coming from a tube? I finally got to hot and said, "Screw it. I am going to the house." I crawled out the stand and made my way back across the field in grass that was way over my head. 

The idea that something could come tearing through there did cross my mind. I walked up to my truck but saw something moving. I stopped then realized it was a tri-colored beagle with an orange color. I started to call him thinking he might come to me. He crept off under the truck. I offered it some water in a ceramic flower pot. No go. It acted like it wanted to come to me but grinned then went back under the truck. I started to laugh at it and asked, "Do you have rabies? You looked like you have rabies." He grinned again from under the bed of my truck. I laid my rifle up on the tailgate. Who the hell had turned their dog loose back here? Or was it from somewhere else. I decided I would just get in my truck. Once I did I sat there thinking about this stupid dog that looked a little old. Ugh! I thought I would make one last try. I opened the door and looked back at the dog who was at my tailgate. "Dog, I am going to leave you here to die unless you would like a ride?" I hit my leg a time or two then waited. He was thinking about it. Finally after a hilarious stare down and one toothy grin he conceded to me and walked over with his head down. I felt kinda bad for him. 

That dog knew it was go time. He crawls up to my foot and lays down on his belly like he's saying, "I don't know what you're going to do to me but I don't want to stay here." I didn't know if he was one of those kinds of dogs that if you pick them up they will bite you. I reached down and grabbed him by the loose skin on his neck then hauls him into my lap. I tossed him into the passenger seat where he laid down full on panting. I shut the door and started to laugh as I looked at this dog. "It's your lucky day dog. Aren't you glad I came along?" I turned on the truck then drove back off with the dog who looked like a Barney. 

I got back to the house and wrote the number down then called his master. His master was this skinny guy driving a Nissan. When he came to collect him, two huge guys jumped out and I wondered how they all got in there. I stopped skill sawing a board then gave him his dog who stunk up my truck. I did feed him some dog food and water him.  This guy named Tron (someone liked Disney I guess) told me he was using these beagles to run deer across the river. They swam across it to find their way on my side. 

Now I know why the deer came out the swamp on Friday. I didn't say much to him but they packed back in the sardine can truck then took off to look for the other dogs they turned loose and left. I did notice they didn't have tracking collars on them. Must not care to much about getting them back is all I can say. I watched Barney drive away in his dog box down the road never to be seen again.

 

After they left I finally cut my boards then took the schnauzer down in the golf cart to put boards in the box stand so I can have a writing surface while I wait and a cooler.

Once again in a weird fit when I got back I crawled up on top of the buck barn to view the back field that is used for a quail-dove plot. As the light got dim I thought I saw something in the shadow of the tree line but decided I needed to quit and crawl down before I fell down in the dark. I can imagine how the scene would look: me laying lifeless on the ground between a toilet and a shower my brother had left for my dad to install 'somewhere' and I stress 'somewhere'.

My tombstone epitaph: THE BUCK MADE HER DO IT!.


~Courtesy of the AOFH~