Handlers put skills of beagles to the test

One judge said he was
looking for dogs that were leaders.

MCCLATCHY NEWSPAPERS

MEBANE, N.C. — Except for the noise, it could have been a Norman Rockwell painting: clubhouse built of rough-hewn logs with six rocking chairs on the porch overlooking a still pond, pickup trucks lining a gravel drive, all framed by golden-leaved hickory trees. The beagles provided the noise.

Staked out on the ground, kenneled in boxes in the back of trucks, temporarily housed in kennels or running in packs in one of two fenced rabbit pens of about 40 acres each. Lots of yapping going on.

The beagles and their owners and handlers from 10 states had converged on Quail Farm Beagle Club between Carrboro and Graham last month for a field trial, where dogs would run in packs and by process of elimination champions would be chosen.

The two-day event featured the female dogs running on a Friday, and males competed on Saturday. In all, 181 beagles ran the grounds, and about 200 people attended each day. The fenced rabbit pens were the playing fields. The beagles came in two sizes: 13 inches and under and 13 to 15 inches, measured at the top of the shoulder. Some of the dogs double as pets, but they’re bred for hunting ability. Most of them live in kennels outside.

In one rabbit pen, a pack of beagles was set to “cast.” Five beagles were in the pack, followed by four handlers, two judges and several spectators. The dogs, each sporting a different colored collar for quick identification, were unleashed and set out into the thick brush. The handlers then started their chorus of encouragement:

“Hunt ’em up!”

“Find ’im, find ’im!”

“Hyuh, hyuh, hyuh, hyuh!”

To an unaccustomed ear, the chorus seemed more like babble — beagle babble — than cheerleading.

Jeremy Cecil, 36, a banker from Winston-Salem, and Mike Scarce, 58, a contractor from Centreville, Va., were paired to judge one cast of beagles. As he stopped to tie his weathered Danner boots, Cecil explained what he was looking for as a judge.

“All I’m looking for is a dog to be busy and search for game,” Cecil said. “You don’t want a follower; you want a leader. They’re hunting as a pack, but you judge them individually.”

As if on cue, one beagle, unseen, cut loose a bawl and the rest of the dogs followed. Someone yelled “Tallyho!” to signal game, and the chase was on. Handlers and judges ran through the woods, trying to keep track of the pack. At one point, Cecil reversed direction, past three handlers. They snapped to attention with hands over their hearts in mock seriousness. Cecil stifled a laugh.

“Green!” Cecil soon called out, and a beagle was eliminated. The canine’s sin? Barking too much before the chase —”cold trailing” in the parlance of the trialers. Cecil wanted a chase before culling dogs from the cast.

The dogs kept running after the unseen rabbit — the dogs almost never see what they’re trailing — while Brett Shepherd stood and listened. Shepherd, 45, had driven from his home in Kokomo, Ind., for the trial.

“When my kids aren’t playing sports, I’m traveling with dogs,” he said. “I’ve got three sets of dogs: coyote dogs, ‘coon dogs and rabbit dogs.”

A beagle bawled in the distance. Shepherd recognized the voice of his entry.

“I love to hear her sound off,” he said, grinning.

After the last chase, two dogs were chosen to “come back,” or run with another pack.

When the last pack had run in the morning, the houndsmen — and houndswomen — gathered at the clubhouse for a lunch of Brunswick stew.

Sarah Best, who is married to Charles Best, a retired dairy farmer and owner of the land where the club is located, directed the kitchen help. After the cooking of 19 dozen eggs by 6:30 that morning, they cooked 31 1/2 gallons of stew.

Although the event was a competition, the mood was more convivial than some canine competitions, which suited Charles Best.

“Bird dog trials are more cutthroat,” he said from the seat of a golf cart. “I used to have bird dogs, and we had field trials here. I had heart surgery in ‘94. I knew I couldn’t walk to bird hunt, and the quail population in the area diminished.

“I got me a few beagles, went to a few trials, then I decided I’d build a clubhouse. I really enjoy seeing the people get together and have a good time.”