River Bottom Beagles



Another cold morning here. I tried to get some pictures of the dogs, only got one that I liked.

Last winter we had two litters about the same time. We were going to keep a male from the other litter, but nothing really caught my eye about them. This other litter had a lot more personality. When they heard your voice they would all look at you.

One male pup would always bark at you when you talked to him. He had a big, loud bawl mouth. We ended up keeping July. He still talks back when you talk to him.

This is July, talking to me.

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Another river picture

This one with a beagle in it.

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It’s below zero outside and the wind is blowing hard out of the north, but somewhere in here is a memory of a summer morning on the river…

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Back Home

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Crows get up from the deer they were feeding on along the old two lane blacktop. Been several miles since another car came this way. Run down farm places with old barns that haven’t seen the farmers kids milking the cows and feeding calves in many years.

The dog box is full, two airline kennels in the back seat and June riding shotgun. Fill up in Clarissa listening to the sound of cattle milling around in the stock trailer over there.

The Amish have been busy sawing lumber and building deer stands to sell. And having kids, judging by the way they keep adding new houses to the home place.

A pickup goes by and the driver waves. You know these people even though you haven’t met some of them yet.

Start picking up the local FM radio station, have to be close since the radio antenna broke off one day driving through the woods.  Mike and Corey and the more bull, less music show. Catch up on all the gossip when the local business owners call in and visit in what passes for advertising up here.

Slowly, the tension that you didn’t know was there starts to leave, the bad stuff draining out on the road and getting left behind. Like the sun coming out after two long weeks of steady rain. You can’t be in a hurry. No one’s pushing you. There’s no place you have to be unless you want to. Time moves at a different pace back home.

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The beagles running a hare on a warm, foggy day in December. Warning, this sound can be habit forming.



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