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COURSING DESERT JACKRABBITS -- Jim Matthews column -ONS -- 10may06
Oldest of hunting sports threatened by state legislature
Outdoor News Service
ADELANTO -- The jackrabbit broke out of the high cover and headed toward a distant fence line across flat, open ground. Three salukis zeroed in on the rabbit from different tangents and shifted into a blurring overdrive, closing the gap between themselves and the jack. At the fence, the rabbit made a hard right and sped along the far side of the fence with one of the salukis just 20 yards behind.
When the rabbit cut into heavier cover, the lead saluki changed its angle, closing the distance, and forced the rabbit to reverse its course and go back to the fence line. The rabbit was at top speed now, going back along the fence the same way it had just come. The second saluki had been behind the lead dog, but now it cut in behind the rabbit, just a couple of yards behind. This dog really turned on its speed trying to catch up, but the rabbit was pulling away slightly from both dogs.
The third and trailing saluki had shot through an opening in the fence just as the rabbit had been turned and cut back on its own tracks. The rabbit didn't see this dog because the brush was too high, but this trailing hound slowed, turned completely around, and then accelerated back toward the fence. The jackrabbit cleared some brush and ran right toward the third dog, tried to turn, but the saluki turned with the rabbit and the two merged. The dog snapped it's jaws in a fluid motion, killing the jackrabbit instantly.
It had happened so fast, there was still settling dust for 30 to 40 yards along the courses they had just run, and a small cloud was dispersing where the chase had come to an end at the convergence of three dogs and a jackrabbit.
It was like watching one of those incredible cheetah kills on the Discovery Channel, where you sit spellbound, realizing only later that you weren't breathing during the whole chase.
The big, dark saluki carried the jackrabbit toward us, keeping it away from the other two dogs. Frank Morris of Adelanto looked surprised. This was how it was supposed to happen, sure, but most of the time, the jackrabbits escape.
"We always say the rabbits have to be unlucky or young for the dogs to catch them," said Morris. This one was both.
Morris' fourth saluki came trotting up. The female was his oldest dog and she'd been chasing another rabbit on her own. The dogs were given water, and he let each one sniff and worry the jackrabbit carcass before taking it away. He put one of the dogs on a slip-leash, leading the way to the next patch of cover where another jackrabbit might be hiding. The dogs would chase at least another 20 jackrabbits futilely before the day got too warm and we retreated back to the vehicles and some shad.
Coursing with sighthounds is one of the oldest forms of hunting. Some people argue the salukis' blood line can be traced back at least 6,000 years. For the whole time hunters have used these sighthounds, and their kin, to hunt wild game. With each successive generation of selective breeding, the dogs became faster and the relationship between man and dog became stronger. They were good hunters alone, but together they were even more effective. The speed of the dog matched up well with the intellect of man.
When we stopped again to give the dogs water, Morris shed a heavy outter shirt and I could see he was wearing a tee-shirt that simply said, "Salukisaurus." The breed may not extend that far back in time, but the bond and long heritage is undeniable. For people like Morris, coursing becomes a part of their very makeup. Hunters are among the last people who have an honest connection to nature, participating in the daily struggles of life and death, and reaping the rewards of that affinity.
I was accustomed to having my Labrador retrievers push birds up for me with my shotgun. Now I was the flusher, and I waded into a patch of heavy brush trying to push out a rabbit. One of Morris' dogs flanked me, watching intently. I watched the dog.
In profile, you can see that a saluki is a long-legged, sleek dog with a chisel-shaped head. It's coat is long, almost feathery, and it's tail nearly drags on the ground. But when the dog turns to go away from you, you look twice to make sure it's actually there. The dog is slender to the point of near-invisibility. Lithe and sleek, everything about the saluki is related to aerodynamics and speed. Watching them, you quickly realize they were born to run, to chase.
So, because it is hunting, because it involves selective breeding, there are those who want to legislate coursing out of existence, flushing away 6,000 years of practical breeding and a rich tradition because they don't understand the process or find it offends their sensibilities.
Morris called me about Assembly Bill-2110 a couple of months ago. It is a horrible piece of legislation that, in its original written form, would have banned all dogs from chasing wild game. If your poodle chased a cottontail at a city park, you could be cited under this law. But the bill was really aimed at people like Morris who seek out game for his dogs to chase, just like sighthound owners have done for hundreds of generations. Morris wanted me to tag along on a hunt to see how the bill's authors have distorted what happens in the field with coursing hounds.
So in rebuttal, coursing isn't inhumane and game is never torn apart alive. I was sure coyotes are less humane, and I don't think they should have any priority over Morris and his salukis. Coursing isn't some underworld activity, in spite of the belief by some people that all forms of hunting are somehow criminal. There is no grueling training the dogs must endure. In fact, most sighthounds are not trained at all, as it relates to hunting. They simply do what's natural for them. And all the game pursued is wild game -- domestic hares are never released from cages to be chased by the dogs. Coursing is a pure, elemental form of hunting.
The bills' authors are clueless. Their talking points are right from an animal rights activists' handbook, and this is just a first step in their desire to ban all hunting, ban all rearing of domestic animals for the marketplace, and -- ultimately -- ban all meat consumption by people like us. They plan to do it a sliver at a time. Coursing is this month's sliver. I'm not very bright but even I could see right though to the real motives of this bill.
On Wednesday this week, the bill was in the Assembly Appropriations Committee for a vote. But it was shelved, placed in the "suspense file" because of an outpouring of opposition from dog owners, hunters, and people who just don't believe in legislation that arbitrarily discriminates against people.
The bill could come back in two weeks, so you might want to drop your assemblyperson a note, asking them to make sure this bill dies. You can also log on to www.stop2110.org to get more information.
Morris said I could tag along whenever he field courses his Salukis. I'd like to be able to take him up on that in the future.
Oldest of hunting sports threatened by state legislature
Outdoor News Service
ADELANTO -- The jackrabbit broke out of the high cover and headed toward a distant fence line across flat, open ground. Three salukis zeroed in on the rabbit from different tangents and shifted into a blurring overdrive, closing the gap between themselves and the jack. At the fence, the rabbit made a hard right and sped along the far side of the fence with one of the salukis just 20 yards behind.
When the rabbit cut into heavier cover, the lead saluki changed its angle, closing the distance, and forced the rabbit to reverse its course and go back to the fence line. The rabbit was at top speed now, going back along the fence the same way it had just come. The second saluki had been behind the lead dog, but now it cut in behind the rabbit, just a couple of yards behind. This dog really turned on its speed trying to catch up, but the rabbit was pulling away slightly from both dogs.
The third and trailing saluki had shot through an opening in the fence just as the rabbit had been turned and cut back on its own tracks. The rabbit didn't see this dog because the brush was too high, but this trailing hound slowed, turned completely around, and then accelerated back toward the fence. The jackrabbit cleared some brush and ran right toward the third dog, tried to turn, but the saluki turned with the rabbit and the two merged. The dog snapped it's jaws in a fluid motion, killing the jackrabbit instantly.
It had happened so fast, there was still settling dust for 30 to 40 yards along the courses they had just run, and a small cloud was dispersing where the chase had come to an end at the convergence of three dogs and a jackrabbit.
It was like watching one of those incredible cheetah kills on the Discovery Channel, where you sit spellbound, realizing only later that you weren't breathing during the whole chase.
The big, dark saluki carried the jackrabbit toward us, keeping it away from the other two dogs. Frank Morris of Adelanto looked surprised. This was how it was supposed to happen, sure, but most of the time, the jackrabbits escape.
"We always say the rabbits have to be unlucky or young for the dogs to catch them," said Morris. This one was both.
Morris' fourth saluki came trotting up. The female was his oldest dog and she'd been chasing another rabbit on her own. The dogs were given water, and he let each one sniff and worry the jackrabbit carcass before taking it away. He put one of the dogs on a slip-leash, leading the way to the next patch of cover where another jackrabbit might be hiding. The dogs would chase at least another 20 jackrabbits futilely before the day got too warm and we retreated back to the vehicles and some shad.
Coursing with sighthounds is one of the oldest forms of hunting. Some people argue the salukis' blood line can be traced back at least 6,000 years. For the whole time hunters have used these sighthounds, and their kin, to hunt wild game. With each successive generation of selective breeding, the dogs became faster and the relationship between man and dog became stronger. They were good hunters alone, but together they were even more effective. The speed of the dog matched up well with the intellect of man.
When we stopped again to give the dogs water, Morris shed a heavy outter shirt and I could see he was wearing a tee-shirt that simply said, "Salukisaurus." The breed may not extend that far back in time, but the bond and long heritage is undeniable. For people like Morris, coursing becomes a part of their very makeup. Hunters are among the last people who have an honest connection to nature, participating in the daily struggles of life and death, and reaping the rewards of that affinity.
I was accustomed to having my Labrador retrievers push birds up for me with my shotgun. Now I was the flusher, and I waded into a patch of heavy brush trying to push out a rabbit. One of Morris' dogs flanked me, watching intently. I watched the dog.
In profile, you can see that a saluki is a long-legged, sleek dog with a chisel-shaped head. It's coat is long, almost feathery, and it's tail nearly drags on the ground. But when the dog turns to go away from you, you look twice to make sure it's actually there. The dog is slender to the point of near-invisibility. Lithe and sleek, everything about the saluki is related to aerodynamics and speed. Watching them, you quickly realize they were born to run, to chase.
So, because it is hunting, because it involves selective breeding, there are those who want to legislate coursing out of existence, flushing away 6,000 years of practical breeding and a rich tradition because they don't understand the process or find it offends their sensibilities.
Morris called me about Assembly Bill-2110 a couple of months ago. It is a horrible piece of legislation that, in its original written form, would have banned all dogs from chasing wild game. If your poodle chased a cottontail at a city park, you could be cited under this law. But the bill was really aimed at people like Morris who seek out game for his dogs to chase, just like sighthound owners have done for hundreds of generations. Morris wanted me to tag along on a hunt to see how the bill's authors have distorted what happens in the field with coursing hounds.
So in rebuttal, coursing isn't inhumane and game is never torn apart alive. I was sure coyotes are less humane, and I don't think they should have any priority over Morris and his salukis. Coursing isn't some underworld activity, in spite of the belief by some people that all forms of hunting are somehow criminal. There is no grueling training the dogs must endure. In fact, most sighthounds are not trained at all, as it relates to hunting. They simply do what's natural for them. And all the game pursued is wild game -- domestic hares are never released from cages to be chased by the dogs. Coursing is a pure, elemental form of hunting.
The bills' authors are clueless. Their talking points are right from an animal rights activists' handbook, and this is just a first step in their desire to ban all hunting, ban all rearing of domestic animals for the marketplace, and -- ultimately -- ban all meat consumption by people like us. They plan to do it a sliver at a time. Coursing is this month's sliver. I'm not very bright but even I could see right though to the real motives of this bill.
On Wednesday this week, the bill was in the Assembly Appropriations Committee for a vote. But it was shelved, placed in the "suspense file" because of an outpouring of opposition from dog owners, hunters, and people who just don't believe in legislation that arbitrarily discriminates against people.
The bill could come back in two weeks, so you might want to drop your assemblyperson a note, asking them to make sure this bill dies. You can also log on to www.stop2110.org to get more information.
Morris said I could tag along whenever he field courses his Salukis. I'd like to be able to take him up on that in the future.
