SIDNEY CROSBY IS 12 WEEKS OLD TODAY.

James Creek Sidney Crosby at 12 weeks old.
JAMES CREEK'S SIDNEY CROSBY 

IS 12 WEEKS OLD TODAY.

SIDNEY LOVES PLAYING WITH HIS JUG.

SIDNEY SURE HAS SOME BIG FEET.

IN MEMORY OF MATT CURRY.

In Memory of Matt Curry cover, October 2017, Volume 32, No. 2.

IN MEMORY OF

MATT CURRY

The Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny take pride in announcing the use of Big Woods Hare Hunter photography on the cover of THE RABBIT HUNTER magazine to honor the memory of legendary author, hare hunter and outdoorsman Matt Curry.

The article and pictures are reprinted here for your reading enjoyment.

Matt's entire obituary, the Big Woods Hare Hunter story and more pictures can be found on an older post on this blog. Please comment as you desire.

Matt, 2002. May a picture be worth a thousand words.

It is with heavy heart the members of the Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny mourn the passing of a true friend of the illusive snowshoe hare, Matt Curry.

Matt was a true friend of many, an inspiration to this writer and a fellow lover of the great outdoors.  His writings will be forever missed but it is our hope his stories will live on eternally.

It was one of the greatest honors of this writer’s life to have met, corresponded with and been considered a friend of Matts.

To his family, extended family, many friends and all those who enjoyed his stories and artwork, we extend our heartfelt condolences for your loss.

Joe Ewing,

Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny

Our first impression of the famous Matt Curry tent camp in the heart of Maine's North Woods.

Matt meets us at tent camp door during our first visit meeting in October of 2002.

Matt watches over his beloved tent camp during visit in 2002.

Matt Curry's much-loved tent camp in the heart of the Maine North Woods.

Matt tells us like it was.

Matt at works in tent's kitchen-2002.

SUMMER ON THE ALLEGHENY

From the desk of the High HareMan.

The following story appeared in the October, 2017 issue of Better Beagling magazine. It is reprinted here with the permission of the author.

All photography is the work of the author unless otherwise specified.

Tightly held, almost secret spot in the ANF.

SUMMER ON THE ALLEGHENY

Or

RAMBLINGS FROM AN OVER HEATED HARE HUNTER
Joe Ewing

Executive High HareMan

of the

Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny

It’s summer on the Allegheny and I hate it.  As I pound out these few words using the sticking keys on my old Underwood® it’s the dog days of summer.  I’ve had my fill!  It’s way too hot and way too humid.  The hounds lay lethargic, their tongues hanging out hoping to catch what little breeze there might be.  Most mornings are too hot and humid to even bother getting them out.  Afternoon thunderstorms drive up the humidity.  I spend my days wishing for the cool, refreshing winds out of the north.  Most people wish for the renewal that spring brings.  I wish for autumn which brings the season of harvest and cooler temps.

My "word processor".

The big woods, the Pennsylvania Wilds, and the Allegheny High Plateau are majestic with all their lush forest greenery thanks to the abundance of rain.  Pennsylvania is home to millions of acres of unspoiled forests and mountains.  Turkey season, a big thing in PA, has been over for a while.  The initial enthusiasm for trout fishing seems to have dwindled although the boys from the local rod and gun club continue stocking the streams with pen-reared trout.  Yes, there still are trout fishing diehards just like us hare hunting diehards.  Logging operations are at their highest during the summer.  Oil and gas operations along with shale gas explorations are slowed, apparently from the low prices.

However, things are not quiet on the Allegheny.  The highways and byways are buzzing with campers, hikers, off road and outdoor enthusiasts of all kinds.  The woods, forests, rivers, lakes and streams have been inundated by multitudes of “yinzers”, “um-uppers”, “flatlanders” and just plain tourists.  Tourist season is at its height on the Allegheny.  Tightly held, almost secret spots only known to the locals, have been plundered and desecrated by the thundering herds thanks to that newfangled thing called “social media”.

The woods, forests, rivers, lakes and streams have been inundated by multitudes of “yinzers”, “um-uppers”, “flatlanders” and just plain tourists.

The annual timber rattlesnake hunt on the Sinnemahoning was successfully held in June.  Pennsylvania’s 2.2 million acres of state forests provide the largest blocks of timber rattlesnake range remaining in the Northeastern states.  The town of Sinnemahoning is located dead center in the Wilds of Pennsylvania not far from the village of Benezette. Benezette is the official capital of Pennsylvania’s elk herd. Pennsylvania’s elk herd is the largest free-roaming elk herd in the Northeastern United States and Benezette is the home of the Elk Country Visitor Center which sits on a 245-acre site on Winslow Hill.  The new and huge elk center includes a scenic view from windows looking out on elk viewing areas and food plots.   It also features a theater which presents multimedia programs.  Informational exhibits involve visitors in the sights and sounds of the hardwood forest, the world of the elk and wildlife.  The site also includes a series of wildlife watching trails, observation areas and viewing blinds.  The height of the season begins in the fall with the bugling of the majestic bull elk.  Beware, when elk watching season is in full swing the narrow mountain roads become choked with crazed elk watchers.   Getting around by car can be messy.

The whitetail dropped their young in June.  Fawns seem to be running everywhere.  It’s anybody’s guess how many of this year’s crop of fawns will make it through the next winter.  The bucks are in velvet.  Chronic wasting disease (CWD) has recently been found in a free-ranging whitetail in the PA Wilds (Clearfield County) and doomsday is predicted among biologists and game managers. In Pennsylvania, CWD has been an increasing threat. The disease also exists among wild deer in the area of southcentral Pennsylvania.  Twenty-five free-ranging deer tested positive for CWD during 2016.  And an additional four CWD-positive deer have been detected since, raising to 51 the total of CWD-positives detected within the DMA 2 since 2012.

Right, a newborn fawn hides in plain sight.

While the spread of CWD in Pennsylvania is a worry to the state’s deer herd, this latest CWD-positive brings fear because of the proximity to Pennsylvania’s elk range. More than 100 elk are tested for CWD each year and, thus far, the disease has not been detected among the state’s elk.  Brain worm, carried by whitetail deer and deadly to moose, elk and other large game animals have biologists worried also.

Young cottontails seem to be everywhere.

When I venture afield with the beagles, there seems to be a high number of young rabbits or “kits”.  The kits are everywhere, no matter what time of day.  But, of course, so are the predators.  I caught a Red-tailed Hawk in the act just the other morning.  When disturbed, the hawk flew off with the dead kit in its talons.

I know very little about Red-tailed Hawks but one thing I do know; the Red-tailed Hawk is one of, if not the most productive and high-volume killing machine in my rabbit cover.  Owls, crows, other kinds of hawks, foxes, skunks, coyotes, raccoons, opossums, snakes, weasels, cats and dogs, hunters and autos can take credit for large scale predation.  Third on this list is crows.  I don’t believe most people understand, besides being one of the smartest birds on the planet, just how deadly the lowly crow can be.  Crows can be seen chasing owls and hawks on a daily basis.  I’ve also observed crows making a fuss when a bald eagle comes around but they seldom harass the eagles.

Red-tailed Hawk caught in the act.

I have mixed emotions about coyotes.  I believe the coyote gets a bad rap when it comes to predation of small game.  Higher on the list should be the common domesticated house cat and of course feral cats.  I see cats in the proving grounds and in the training grounds regularly, unless there is coyote sign.

A few years back when training at the beagle club I enjoyed (not so much) a cat chase ending up in a farmer’s barn a half mile or more away. The farmer reportedly housed at least two dozen cats. It was difficult explaining what 6 beagles were doing in the farmer’s barn. I wonder how much small game and song birds 24 cats can eat? A year or so later without a cat chase for a while I inquired just how many cats the farmer was harboring? The answer was, “zero, coyotes”.

I’ve had people try to tell me that turkey buzzards prey on rabbits.  The turkey vulture is a scavenger and feeds almost exclusively on carrion.  The vulture or buzzard does an outstanding job cleaning up the roadways of Pennsylvania.  We see them often soaring in the hot afternoon thermals.  Reportedly, the vulture has a keen sense of smell.  Many times, we have to pick up our pace to insure the buzzard doesn’t get the wrong idea about us.

This turkey vulture is feeding on a road killed cottontail.

We are at the peak of the tick season on the Allegheny.  Ticks are supposed to be bad this year because of two mild winters and a wet spring.  My hounds don’t seem to be bothered by ticks, dog ticks or deer ticks, too much.  I keep them treated regularly although I’m a day or two late this month.  I know of many people infected with lime disease.  Lime disease can be a terrible curse.

A while back I lost a beagle to what the veterinarian diagnosed as lymphoma.  Just recently I came across an article in TODAY’S BREEDER, (issue 95) a Purina Pro Plan publication which stated, “New tick-borne organisms are discovered every year, and sometimes mimic other diseases.   An unusual case was diagnosed in 2012 when an 11-year-old male Scottish Terrier thought to have T-cell lymphoma, based on the pathology and histology reports, turned out to be infected by a novel tick-borne pathogen, Panola Mountain Ehrlichia sp.  Fortunately, antibiotic therapy resolved the infection and prevented unnecessary treatment with cancer chemotherapy.”  Antibiotics is exactly what I was giving poor Shadow until the vet assured me the problem was not an infection.

I must get to the kennel and get my beagles up to date on their tick meds.

Please have a great fall and happy hunting.

LOST ON THE ALLEGHENY As told to his master by various methods by Toby

The following article appeared in the Better Beagling magazine and in the Rabbit Hunter magazine, May 2017 issues.

The story is reprinted here with permission of the author and under the auspices Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny.

All photography is by the author unless as noted.

Official Insignia

LOST ON THE ALLEGHENY

by

TOBY (Crain’s H. H. Little Toby Creek Toby)

As told to his master by various methods

Based on a true story.
As written down by Joe Ewing, March 2001.

My name is Toby and I am a hunting beagle.  I was lost for twenty-five days on the Allegheny in the dead of winter.  I just found out how much trouble a young fellow can cause when he fails to come home.

The author, Crain's Hickory Hill Little Toby Creek Toby.

  I know what you’re thinking, no sir, I was not running deer.  The fact of the matter is I have never chased deer.  Even as a young pup I refused to go along on a deer chase. Some of my kennel mates cannot resist those whitetails but that’s on them.  I must have been lucky or maybe it's in my DNA. I got a good start on cottontail and I’ve stayed on rabbits.  I like chasing cottontail rabbits.  I love those big white rabbits. They put out a great smell and they don’t play around.  They like to run but they can be very tricky.  In the big woods of the Alleghenies the snowshoe hare run “big”.  On clear brisk day in the dead of winter there is nothing better than chasing those big running snowshoe hare. 

  I still remember that fateful day.  How could I ever forget?  The hunt started out like all the ones before.  My kennel mates and I were up before dawn and into the dog-truck for the ride to the big woods.  We always wait while the boss eats his breakfast.  A short ride onto the Allegheny, a turn or two and we were soon there.

Toby and his pack. (Toby is in the very back).

  After jumping off the tailgate, it wasn’t long before we picked up some hot hare scent and it was off to the races.  That old hare pulled a fast one, immediately leaving the slashing, and running to another.  My kennel mates, which include two of my offspring and one from where I was born in Illinois, are young and full of enthusiasm.
They really go for this hare hunting business too.  The snowshoe hare ran several circles in that clear-cut. Then the hare lit out for another clear-cut several hundred yards away.  Round and round the old hare took me in the thick cover. The scenting conditions were ideal, warm, wet with an inch or two of fresh snow.

Lepus Americanus

  The air was warm at first.  Later in the day, it started to snow and the wind picked up.  The wind began to blow hard and the temperature dropped.  Before long, it was cold but I didn’t care. Mr. hare was keeping me warm and I was keeping the heat on him. The wind started to blow even harder but it did not matter. By dark, the temperature was way down and the wind made it worse. It was not the kind of conditions I like because I can’t hear the boss calling.

    It was one week before the big trip to the Adirondack Mountains I think I overheard my master say.  We were training for the “big hunt”.  The alpha dog of this operation, the boss, says in order to get good, stay sharp and in top-notch condition, we have to train hard all the time.  Today was to be an eight-hour session.  The last big training run before the big hunt.

Snowshoe hare.

  Somewhere the young hounds dropped out of the chase but I didn’t care.  I chased that old hare to yet another clear-cut and then another.  Then a very bad thing happened.  I kicked a new and different snowshoe hare which wanted to run.  He was fresh and ready to roll.  He ran straight away for a long ways.

  When I realized I was tired it was dark-thirty, totally black, and bone chilling cold.  No problem I thought, just over the hill and around the bend, find the forest road and be back home for supper in my nice warm box.  I couldn't find the forest road.  I ran and looked and ran.  Sometime way after dark I couldn’t run anymore.  My feet were stinging, my back hurt, my muscles ached and I was cold.  What I really needed was a nice warm spot to curl up in for just forty winks.

Winter on the Allegheny.

  I found a hollow tree, a lot stinky, but it would have to do for tonight.  The hollow tree had the stench of an old raccoon or maybe some nasty porcupine. The wind had dyed down a little and this hollow tree seemed a decent place.  It was a good spot to rest and listen.  Listen for my master calling.  I fell into a deep sleep.

Porcupine (courtesy the internet)

      I was startled awake by strange howling off in the distance. It sounded like a pack of hounds having a fun time. I wanted in the worst way to go and greet them. Maybe they were friends. They didn’t sound like they were chasing anything. They were just tuning it up for some odd reason.There voices were strange and high-pitched. They sounded very happy. I desperately wanted to answer their calling. Suddenly something deep inside of me said that I should answer. So I did. I bayed as loud as I could bay. Their strange calling suddenly stopped. I heard nothing the remainder of the night.

        Let me tell you about myself.  I was born in La Clede, Illinois at a kennel called “Crain’s Hickory Hill Kennel”.  I'm told I have a lot of Warfield Red DNA in me.  The proprietor of the kennel is a man named Merle Crain.

        At the tender age of seven or eight weeks of age, I was placed on an airplane, of all things, and after a few frightening hours I arrived in Franklin, Pennsylvania.  A strange looking fellow was there to pick me up.  It took a few days to get over that one.  I mean the airplane trip not the strange fellow who turned out to be my master.  I still think he’s a little strange looking though.  One other fact: I’m for some unknown reason shy.  Shyer than most beagles I know.

Toby as a puppy.

        I digress, let’s get back to my story. The next day I couldn’t find my master. I knew he was looking for me.  I knew he would leave his coat if he went home.  I was searching everywhere but I did not know which way to go.  I looked and looked with no results. Sometime during the afternoon of the first day, I heard noises like equipment running.  I took a heading in the direction of the strange sound.  When I got there, no one was around. There was big equipment and an enormous pile of bark.  I climbed up onto the pile.  It was warm so I dug myself a hole and spent that night and the next night.

Toby in his prime hunting on the Allegheny.

         By the fourth day, I was getting terribly hungry.  I couldn’t find a thing to eat.  I found a warm place under a “tank battery“.  Except for the strange new odor, it was a warm place to hang.

        Writer’s Note: In the oil fields of Pennsylvania, crude oil is stored in large tanks before going to the refinery.  When there is more than one tank, they are then called a "tank battery" or a "tank farm".  A natural gas fire is maintained under the crude oil storage tanks to keep the crude oil warm. If the crude oil congeals from the cold it will be too thick to load onto the trucks or flow through the transmission lines.  It was most likely under one of those tanks where Toby spent a few nights.

Tank battery or tank farm.

         During the night, I heard those crazy, goofy sounding dogs again.  This time they were close, very close.  I had this strange and overwhelming desire to answer them but I was afraid so I stayed silent.  When the sun came up everything was quiet. I decide to investigate.  Not far from my new camping spot, I found what all the excitement was about. I discovered a freshly killed whitetail deer carcass and did it taste good.  This must be what those strange sounding dogs were so happy about.  All the while I ate, two peculiar looking large black birds sat in the tree above me making weird calls.  I guess they wanted some fresh venison too.  I was so hungry I ate until I couldn’t hold another bite.  I went back to my bed at the tank battery and fell into a deep sleep.  I was awakened in the dark of night by those weird dogs making those funny calls.  The next morning I decided it was time for more deer meat.  When I found the carcass there was nothing left but the bones.

Marcellus shale gas well and tank battery.

        I started to lose track time.  I don’t know how long I stayed by the warmth of the oil tank and looked for food.  I was getting very hungry.  If I could just find something to eat. Reluctantly, I decided to move on down the mountain.

      I came to a very large, fast flowing creek.  The creek was too wide to cross so I started up stream.  After following the stream for a long distance, most of the day in fact, at just about dark, I came to a bridge.  On the other side of the bridge I could see a building of some type so I decided to cross. 

         Writer’s note: The large and fast flowing creek Toby came upon was most likely Tionesta Creek, a tributary of the Allegheny River.  Since the water was moving swiftly, he was up stream from the Tionesta Dam and above Nebraska Bridge. He was not crossing at Nebraska because there are no buildings on either side.  Toby probably crossed Tionesta Creek at Kelletville, home of Cougar Bob’s Tavern one of the finer establishments on the Allegheny.

Nebraska Bridge on Tionesta Creek in summer. Photo by B.K. Ewing.

        The building seemed deserted. There were no people around and there were no cars in the driveway.  The snow in the driveway was deep so no one had been there for a while. There were several large garbage cans and they were full. I enjoyed my first meal in a long time.  I found a nice warm spot under what must be a hunting camp.  I decided this was a good place to spend some time.

         For several days I enjoyed raiding those garbage cans.  I scattered papers, cans and boxes far and wide.   Down the road not far was another hunting camp and I raided those garbage cans too.  I was living high on the hog, as they say.

         One day a man showed up.  I could hear him swearing and screaming.  From my hiding spot under the camp I knew the man was mad and I was terrified.  Somehow, he knew where I was hiding and somehow he knew I was a dog.  He wanted me out of there but I was not about to come out.  He tried to lure me with fresh meat.  I got the meat all right but he wasn’t going to catch me.

         The next day a woman wearing an official looking uniform showed up.  The official woman tried to coax me out from under the camp but it wasn’t happening.  After a while here she came, she was crawling under the camp.  What a brave official lady.  She had a long stick with a rope on the end.  All the while she was crawling she was speaking to me in a soothing voice.  She seemed nice.  She backed me into a corner and suddenly the rope was around my neck and I was being drug from under the building.  The official lady wasn’t that nice.  She placed me in her official looking truck for the long ride to the dog jail.  I knew I was in trouble now.

         A little while after being booked at the dog jail I heard what I thought was my boss’ voice.  How could it be?  How would the boss know I was in jail?  We had a joyous reunion right there.  I overheard the official woman saying something about it being a good thing my boss’ name was on my collar.  The boss thanked the lady repeatedly and paid her my bail money.  She made sure she told him what she went through to catch me.  I think she wanted him to pay her laundry bill too.  Then the boss thanked her several more times and shook her hand.  I think he was so happy he wanted to kiss her.  Soon we were on our way to my kennel, my kennel mates and my nice warm home.  It was a grand day and it was awesome to be home.        

         Writer’s note:  Crain’s Hickory Hill Little Toby Creek Toby (1996-2007) lived at Little Toby Creek Kennels for almost eleven years.  Toby was very prolific and sired some very special and beautiful hunting hounds for many hunters.  He certainly must have had Warfield DNA in his system as he put out many red and lemon puppies.  Toby’s blood still runs through many of the hounds at Little Toby Creek Kennel.

         Toby missed that Adirondack hunt, however, he eventually hunted the Adirondacks, Maine nine times and the Tug Hill Plateau.  Toby hunted the eastern cottontail in numerous counties across Pennsylvania including Southern Clarion County, PA.  Toby ran hundreds of snowshoe hare on the Allegheny during his lifetime.  

Toby (front right) hunting in the wilds of Maine with his master and his kennel mate, John Doe.

          
         On January 7, 2004, tragically, Toby’s left leg was broken when one of his kennel mates ran into him at full speed.  After the accident, Toby never made it back to being the same hunting dog he was before.

Toby recuperating after his unfortunate accident.

         I understand physical pain but certainly I never appreciated Toby's pain for unlike me he could never tell anyone and unlike me he would never ask for sympathy.

           On March 9, 2007, Toby finally gave up.

          On a clear, cold morning in winter, while standing on a mountainside listening, you may hear the ghostly voices of a pack of phantom hounds pursuing the illusive snowshoe hare across the Alleghenies. Little Toby will be in that pack along with all the many great hounds which have departed this world before and since.

Please comment on this article as you see fit.

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SIDNEY CROSBY

SIDNEY CROSBY

Sidney (R) and "Little A".

ABOVE: Sidney looks sad.  It's his eyes. He is not really sad.

ABOVE: Sid and "A" love to play.

The above photo is courtesy of Debra States at James Creek Beagles.  I used it on my facebook page. I hope Deb doesn't mind.

THE BIG WOODS HARE HUNTERS OF THE ALLEGHENY PRESENT: SIDNEY CROSBY AND "LITTLE A"

THE BIG WOODS HARE HUNTERS OF THE ALLEGHENY PRESENT:

SIDNEY CROSBY AND "LITTLE A"

ON SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2017 SIDNEY CROSBY MOVED TO HIS NEW HOME.

Sidney Crosby and "Little A" or "Lady A" moved, on Labor Day 2017, to Sidney's new home at Little Toby Creek Kennel in Lucinda, Pennsylvania.  "Little A" will be moving on in a few days to her new home in Shippenville, PA.

I want to thank Bill and Debra States at James Creek Beagles in James Creek, Pennsylvania for making this all possible.  The States have a beautiful kennel and have helped make some wonderful looking puppies.  Now it will be up to their trainers and their DNA.

HERE ARE SOME PICTURES FROM HOMECOMING DAY.

Sidney looks a little sad at the thought of leaving his birth home at James Creek Beagles. 

Debra States gives "Little A" a goodbye hug.

PHOTOS ABOVE ARE OF JAMES CREEK BEAGLES IN JAMES CREEK, PA

SIDNEY'S MAMA, (Dam) JAMES CREEK BRING'EM ROUND THE HILL JILL.

Sidney's sire's name is; COON HOLLOW ZANE and is picture further down on this post.

ABOVE: BILL STATES WITH JILL.

OUR FIRST STOP WAS AT THE MURRY'S FOR A LITTLE ROMP ON THE TRAMPOLINE.  ABOVE, SIDNEY TRIES OUT THE TRAMPOLINE. BELOW. "LITTLE A" GIVES IT A TRY.

ABOVE; THE GALLERY LOOKS ON AS SIDNEY WORKS OUT.

ABOVE: SIDNEY CHECKS OUT HIS NEW HOME.

ABOVE: "LITTLE A" LOOKS AT HOME IN HER TEMPORARY HOME.

ABOVE AND BELOW: "LITTLE A" AND SIDNEY DO SOME HUNTING.

We are very pleased to finally have Sidney Crosby living at his new home at Little Toby Creek Kennel in Lucinda, PA.  "Little A" (Little A or Lady A is a temporary name because we don't know what Andy will call her) will be moving in a few days to Shippenville, PA.

The following 3 pictures were taken on 08-20-2018 when Sidney, "Little A" and litter mates were approximately 6 1/2 weeks old courtesy Debra States.

Pictured above and below is Sidney's sire: COON HOLLOW ZANE courtesy of Debra States.