We’re called the Treeing Walker Coonhound
Written by: Beth O. (Nance) Snedegar, Alan Snedegar, and Tricia L. Snedegar
In 1922 on a central Indiana farm, a ten-year-old boy was given a small Fox Terrier named Bootsie. The two became almost inseparable, and even slept together. As Bootsie and the boy grew, they spent many happy hours in the woods hunting squirrels. Bottsie was often found sitting up and barking at the base of a tree with a squirrel on the first limb barking back. This young man provided many of squirrels for the family table with a Winchester .22 his father had given him for graduating from the eighth grade. In the mid-20’s, raccoon were scarce in this part of the nation. Therefore fox hunting was very popular with many of the houndsmen. This same young man could often be found listening to the houndsmen talk and brag as they stood by a fire and listened to the music. The boy could go fox hunting with Uncle Charley and his beloved Foxhound Ben, as long as he gathered wood for the fire and kept it going.
Newby was surpassed by no one in the state for their ability to catch a coon. After a brief conversation, the boy was delighted to hear that Queen would be com- ing to his house that very night to hunt the 200-acre timber that lay across the road. Several hours later this young man’s stomach was tired in a knot as the hunters gathered in his father’s yard. It was after dark before Queen arrived, and no time was wasted in turning her loose. She had hardly gotten through the rail fence when her deep bawl broke the silence of the crisp air. The Bluetick female was soon “treed”, but to the boy’s dismay, on a big den. Some of the hunters found fresh coon tracks in the mud coming to the big tree, but nothing was found on the outside and it was too big to climb. When taken off the tree however, Queen instantly headed back into the cornfield from which she had come. Five minutes later, she was opening going the opposite direction and soon crossed the road. Again the hunters found a fresh coon track near the edge of the road, and true to form,
They tried hunting raccoon on a few occasions, but always ended the night by treeing a couple of opossums and running but never catching some mink. About one night out of four they would actually hit a coon track; but by this boy’s 14 th birth- day they had not made a success- ful hunt. One night the dogs treed on a large oak, the hunters set their kerosene lanterns on the top of their head and hanged the bails, but no coon eyes seen. They built a large fire and
Queen had known there were two all along. Opening only three or four times, she was soon into the timber 80 rods to the East. None of the other hounds they had been hunting on those previous nights for the past couple of years had said a word, or shown any indication they knew what the blue female was up to. She bawled again and turned to the north. Soon she had entered another timber and sent word through the cool air that she was “treed”. Upon arrival at the scene, they found Queen on a Beech with the top broken out. One of the men took off his coat and was up the tree before the excited boy knew what had happened.
looked for two hours, but a coon was not to be found. Things began to change, however, when one day in 1926 the boy came riding home from town with his father. Coming the opposite direction down a country road was a horse-drawn wagon with a Bluetick hound named Queen sit- ting on the spring seat. The reputation of Queen and her owner Glen
86 • S HOW S IGHT M AGAZINE • O CTOBER 2010
Powered by FlippingBook