To Catch A Jackrabbit
To
catch a mature, healthy jackrabbit the hare must be “run down.” By this I mean
the jack must be pursued hard enough and long enough that, approaching
exhaustion, its speed and reflexes are failing to the point that a hound may
make contact with the hare with its mouth and knock it over, trip it up, pick
it up, or “put it on the ground.” The first requirement is for the hound to
have more speed than the hare; without sufficient pace the chase is futile. But
speed by itself isn’t enough. Rarely can a hare be picked up on the first or
second pass. Indeed, a good jack can elude hounds indefinitely, even if the
dogs are clearly faster, unless and until she begins to tire. Then she becomes
vulnerable.
The hare will not become
vulnerable unless she is pressed hard; forced into a strong sprint and numerous
turns. She won’t make defined wrenches and turns on her own; if she’s changing
direction sharply you know your hounds are making her work. You’ll also know
your hounds are making the hare work if she lays her ears back on the run. If
she’s cruising along straightaway with her ears up she’s not working; she will
not tire and she will not be caught.
Pressed
hard, some hares become vulnerable inside 500 yards; some at 1000 yards; some
at two miles; many not at all! So the hounds must press the hare hard enough
and long enough to make her lay her ears back, make her change direction, and,
finally, make her wear down.
It helps immensely if the
hounds can stay close to the hare through the turns. If the hound is taking
twenty yards to make a turn the hare made in five, he’ll likely wear down
before the hare. The ability of the hound to stay close to the hare through the
turns is a function of intelligence (controlled pace) as well as athletic
ability. Some hounds seem to be able to do it instinctively right from the
first race. Others learn in time. Some never learn.
The hare knows just when to
change direction before the closing hound can pick her up. Just before she
makes the turn or wrench, or 180 or 360 degree maneuver, she’ll raise her ears.
Good hounds know this signal and are anticipating the turn; the hare dekes or jinks or dodges — there is no limit to their
variable moves — and the dust powders into the air as the hound brakes from 40
mph, leans, then powers through the turn still close to the line of pursuit. Of
course, once she has made her turn, the hare again lays her ears back as she
regains her line and sprint.
Zeke, coldblood greyhound, is changing gaits
– “shifting gears” – at high speed as he prepares to drop for a take on the
hare. Note head cocked to the left toward the game; tale is counter-balanced to
the right. He missed the take!
Hounds, too, have signals
that indicate a turn. A hound about to change direction at high speed will
raise its tail to help slow itself; if the turn is to the right the tail will
then swing to the left as a counter balance to the head and body leaning hard
the other way; or visa versa when the hare and hound go hard left; and coming
out of the turn the tail is lowered as the hound once again lines out on the
hare.
Speed and agility on a
course can be seen if not measured but endurance or “distance” can be seen and measured. Take a stopwatch with you
in the field. When you see the hare (or fox or coyote) get up
and the hounds line out, click on the timer. When the game is caught or
goes down a hole, or when you see the dogs throw up their heads and give it up,
click the watch off. Figuring an average speed of 30 mph — that’s a rough
estimate but a pretty good one — then a 30 second course is a quarter mile
long; a 1 minute course is a 1/2 mile long; a 2 minute course 1 mile long; a 3
minute course 1 1/2 miles; a 4 minute course 2 miles, etc. Try it and see how
many of those “three mile” runs turn out to be a mile and a half.
A diverse pack of two or
three good hounds will catch more hares and will catch a stronger hare than a
one dimensional pack. A trio of track greyhounds will usually overhaul a jack
quickly and force it into a half dozen turns within a quarter mile. This is
usually not enough to tire the hare; she keeps dodging and the hounds tire
first and away she goes laughing. Three long distance salukis may lack the
speed to work the hare hard in the first half mile. With unlimited running room
they might still wear the hare down in time, but running room is seldom
unlimited. Somewhere out there — one mile, two miles — the hare goes through a
fence or into some cover or down a hole and your salukis have lost the race.
This is not meant to
disparage the greyhound or the saluki; some greyhounds can go the distance and
some salukis have very good early speed. But I’ve had my best success over the
years running a good sprint dog with two dogs of great distance. The sprinter
pushes the hare hard for the first half mile, forces turns, and takes the edge
off her. The distance dogs lay off a bit and play the angles; when they sense
the sprinter start to falter they pick up the pace and come on to take over the
course and eventually catch the tiring jackrabbit.
Of course the ideal would be
a hound, or brace or trio of hounds, that combine
greyhound speed with saluki endurance and perhaps a bit of the strength and
tenacity of the staghound. One can never perfectly realize this ideal, but some
of us think we are coming close with certain breedings
that produce exceptional hybrids or longdogs.
Controlling pace and
negotiating turns and terrain are just several of the factors of intelligent
pursuit that hounds will use to catch a jack (or fox or coyote). “Playing the
angles” was referred to; a trailing
hound lays off the turn forced by the lead hound; when the hare changes
direction the trailer can comes across the angle with scarcely any loss of
speed, pick up the lead right behind the hare, while the lead hound necessarily
slows to make the sharp turn.
The brindle greyhound is pushing the hare; the saluki and white
greyhound are hedging.
“Running
cunning” can involve hedging, fanning, herding, or pure guesswork. In hedging,
one hound runs on the hare’s flank while the other presses from behind, sharply
reducing the quarry’s options for escape. In fanning, three hounds fan out
behind the hare (one right behind, two on the flanks) then pinch in for the
take. That’s the plan anyway and it shows good hounds can think, but hares can
think too and they often, somehow, escape the fan, leaving three hounds
scrambling to change direction in a cloud of dust. Herding is my favorite
because it’s so rare. I’ve owned just two hounds that could do it well; my
first saluki, Max, and surprisingly a tattooed track greyhound named Beulah.
Beulah was even better than Max because she had such great speed. Time and
again while hunting jacks one loses the race because the hare makes it through
a fence or into some brush or other cover. A “herd dog” understands the terrain
and knows the hare is trying to make for cover. He (she) will run between the
hare and the fence, or cover, and literally “herd” the jack back out into the
open field where a catch is available. It doesn’t always work, of course, as
some jacks will risk the bite of the herd dog and break for the brush anyway;
but time and again I watched Max or Beulah flank a hare, force it from cover or
away from a fence, rob the hare of certain escape and save a great course.
Finally, “pure guesswork” is a hound that’s gotten lazy and is always running
cunning, loping along on the flanks of the chase, hoping the hare will turn his
way. Such a hound wants to make a catch without doing any of the work. It
sometimes works — some hounds are good guessers — and it’s excusable in an
older hound, but in a young dog it means you’ve got a slacker.
Hounds which run cunning
effectively are good hunters —
they’ll catch you a jack or fox or coyote that would otherwise escape — but
good coursers pour it on right behind
the game. Strictly speaking, hunting
is a competition setting the hounds against the quarry; coursing is a competition between the hounds using the quarry as a
lure. Some of us are more hunters than coursers; others are quite the opposite.
If the game escapes, the courser cares not; he was looking at the competition
between the hounds. The hunter, however, is pissed; his hounds, running
together, lost the course. And the hounds themselves?
I think it safe to say that the good ones all share a driving philosophy: run-to-catch!
This is country! Glenn Thompson photo.
Now
that we know something of what it takes to catch a hard jack, here are some
ways to go about it.
You can let your hounds run
loose (free coursing) and you follow behind in the pickup, or on horseback; or,
you can let the hounds run loose and you follow on foot; or you can walk,
keeping the hounds on slip leads. There are advantages to each. When you follow
in a vehicle or on horseback then as the race starts you can, within limits,
keep up, getting a good view of the whole course. However, you may not own a
horse and the condition of the field, or fences, may make driving unfeasible.
And the hunter wants to be easy on the land; leaving tire tracks all over may
run afoul of good ethics, or the ranch foreman, or the public lands manager in
charge of the range. When you run jacks you’ll most often be on foot.
For
me coursing on foot with the hounds is the complete field experience. You’re
out in the air and sun (or rain or snow!) getting the benefit of the elements
and exercise of your own. This gives a better sense of the hunt. On foot you’re
in the best communion with your hounds. When hares are especially plentiful, or
when there’s more than five dogs to run, it’s often best to slip your hounds.
Otherwise, with hounds scattered over the field, running the many hares at
will, you’re apt to have races being run every which-way at once. Your concentration
and view of the single course is distracted causing you to lose track of your
hounds. With the hounds in the slips you can wait for the rabbit you want and
slip certain hounds on the same hare. Two to three hounds on a hare is the best
coursing. More than three is not necessarily unsporting (in fact, lots of dogs
just tend to get in each others way). But with two or three dogs there is less
chance of a high speed collision, and it’s a lot easier to keep track of the
hounds and to make note of what each one is doing. That’s part of what makes it
interesting.
Often you’ll be part of a
small group walking a distance hunting rabbits; hold some back on leads and
have a few out there free coursing, out front hunting on their own helping to
find and jump the hare. When you see the jack get up you’ll holler: Rabbit!” or
“Hare up!” or “God-damn there she is now!” Then you’ll look for the hounds, out
there scattered loose in the field reacting in complete spontaneity as they
come in to join the course. You’ll watch with binoculars as they move away;
watching the hare as much as the hounds; seeing what kind of hare you’ve got;
looking for speed; watching to see if the hare can string the hounds out on the
straightaway; anticipating its moves when the hounds get up close. You’ll watch
the hounds as well, noticing which hound gets the fast run-up, which hound is
running cunning or showing best agility over the terrain,
and which has the endurance and heart to continue should the course pass 1000
yards. If the course leads over a hill, or out of sight somehow, you’ll run to
the hilltop yourself, or climb a fence post, anything to recover your view of
the race. The hare may well escape (better than half do). No matter. You’re in
the field with your hounds on a hunt and you got to see the hare and hounds at
work. That’s what running jackrabbits is all about.
With family at the
first annual Desert Hare Pack Hunt, southwest