Full Cry Column
June 2001

Kevin G. Kelly (Southern Working Airedale Terrier Association corespondent)

Well, here it is the first week in April and we are getting the March weather we didn’t get in March. It has been beautiful sunny days but the air temperature has been pretty chilly for the Santa Cruz Mountains. The dogs love the temperature, as do I, because they can move through the woods without getting overheated.

Three nights ago we had our first hog chase! The pigs have been doing a pretty good job of plowing up the property, even coming within thirty-five paces of the house, so it was time to move them back! The dogs, Brisk in particular, were raising a ruckus out side so I took a flashlight and went to investigate. As I walked up the road/path that leads from the woodshop up to the water tank, I met the dogs at the back entrance to the garden. First Brisk came ripping out of the garden area and headed up the road. She was followed closely by Natalie (our Border Collie Farm Shepherd) and bringing up the rear was Boru our yearling male out of Slim/Brisk. They disappeared around the corner and before I could count three, Boru came flying back past me with Natalie close behind. Brisk returned to me and immediately went back around the corner. As I turned the corner with the flashlight shining I could see about 15 or 20 yards ahead was a large Boar facing off with Brisk’s charge. Boru had returned and although he was closer to me than the hog, he was at least lending moral support. Natalie was barking from higher ground.

I called the dogs off and returned to the house to fetch my son, Miles, two more flashlights and my rifle.

When we returned to where the boar had been, he was long gone, or so I thought! We walked on up to the top of the hill where the water tank is and Brisk sounded The Call. We heard a loud thump into the side of my pick-up that is parked up there, shined the lights in that direction and out from behind the truck came the pig with Brisk in hot pursuit. The pig was heading for a trail that heads off into the woods. It was here that I believe I made my mistake. Instead of following the chase, which would have taken Boru, who was staying pretty close to Miles and I, along to join Brisk in her chasing /baying, I cut through the woods to try and head the pig off on the trail I thought he was taking. Well I heard Brisk make contact once and then they (she and the pig) were off into the woods in the opposite direction from where I was with Miles. Boru was following Natalie the Border Collie who was just running around barking from all the unusual excitement.

We got Boru to follow us and we followed the direction Brisk had gone. After about a mile Brisk returned to check in and was ready to return to the chase. But this was an unplanned hunt and we were all getting farther away in the dark. Even if we got a boar, I figured it would be midnight, we would be at least two miles from home, deep in a gully, with dim flashlights, from low batteries and work, bright and early, the next day. We called it a night and headed for home. The dogs since have gotten more and more interested in the whole idea. Boru and Brigid have joined Brisk in the trailing of the pigs. It won’t be long before it’s Bar-Be-Que Time!

I have always admired the determination and intelligence of these Airedales and the following story is further evidence of that determination. It comes from Lawrence Alexander of Florence, Alabama. He Calls it, “ Miracle at Hilltop”.

“It had been raining and storming the night before. It had rained most of the day but it had cleared off and was a beautiful afternoon. I knew that Cox Creek about ¾ mile from Hilltop Kennel, was up. I decided to take my little 3-month-old Airedale puppy, Hilltop Strongbow Savannah, with me, on my four wheeler, to check things out. When we got off of the four wheeler the water was swift and just about out of the banks. We walked around the bank and all the time I kept a close eye on Savannah to make sure she would not get too close to the water. We were picking up sticks and Savannah was having so much fun running around with a stick in her mouth. I told her “Savannah, don’t get too close to the water or you might fall in.” I had no more gotten the words out of my mouth when she slid backwards into the water next to a lodged log. When she did not pop up immediately, I panicked. I jumped in the chest deep water and it was over my head in some places. I frantically started reaching and searching for her trying to get my hands on her. I pulled part of the log away thinking she might have gotten hung. When I couldn’t see or feel her I got out of the water and ran about 200 yards down the creek looking for my Savannah. I went back up the middle of the creek, which was chest deep, and at times the water almost knocked me down. I was devastated because I knew she could not be under the water that long and still be alive. After I felt like there was no hope I went to the house to break the news to my wife, Polly. I was beside myself with grief and Polly was heartbroken and shocked at the news. About six o’clock I called my friend Ray Weeks and he encouraged me to go look for her one more time. I walked about one quarter of a mile down the creek banks again to no avail. I knew she was gone. I did not sleep any that night. I was at the kennel at 9:00 p.m. and also 11:00 p.m. to check on another dog. Each time I would look over at Savannah’s empty pen and get that sinking feeling in my stomach. At 5:30 a.m. I was up and knowing that the water would be down I was planning to wade the creek to look for her body. I was at the kennel and happened to look over at her pen and there, in the dim morning light, I thought I saw a ghost. I first saw her little legs and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There sat little Savannah. She wasn’t saying a word; she just looked at me. She was soaked to the bone. She had been gone approximate 12 or 13 hours.

I still can’t believe she made it, knowing the journey she had to travel to get home. How far she traveled down the creek, I don’t know. But, when she got out she had briars to go through, woods to navigate, hills to climb, and when she got to the kennel it was fenced except for one small place she could get through. I wish she could tell us her story. I can not believe a 3-month-old puppy could survive being washed down the creek and then find her way home. The next day, April 5th, Savannah was exhausted and limping but I am happy to say she is now in excellent health and she’s our little miracle, Savannah.”

Thank-you Lawrence, and praise be. You know far better than I do, the intense joy and pain these dogs can give us. Recently Lawrence and his family lost their long time buddy “Mac”, his picture should accompany this article. So I am very glad Savannah returned safe and sound to grow and do her stuff! It’s always on to the future, to new pups and new adventures.

I never tire of hearing new stories about these versatile, hunting Airedales, whether they were told or written today or fifty years ago. Sandy Seaton Sallee sent this story to Henry Johnson awhile back and we thought you folks might enjoy reading it.

“ I (Sandy) spent ten days in Texas last month, and took a tour of the King

Ranch. I bought a book by King Ranch cowboy Frank Goodwyn, first published in

1951, called "Life on the King Ranch". There is a chapter about the "early day’s",

and their purebred Airedale C.C., which they named after their boss, Mr. Caesar Kleberg. As Frank says, " In our opinion, C.C. was the acme of dogdom. He could kill badgers: something that few dogs can do by themselves. Almost every night he would go off hunting alone and comeback dragging a badger. Old C.C. never got bitten. He knew how to defend himself in a fight. At killing snakes, he was a champion also. When he found a rattler, he didn't stand off and bark like most dogs do, getting it riled and on guard. He grabbed it without warning and shook it so fast that it never knew what hit it. And when old C.C. put a snake down it was REALLY DEAD. Aside from killing snakes and badgers, Old C.C.'s favorite sport was canine croquet. We had bought a set of balls and mallets, and we soon lost all the balls except one. Old C.C. took possession of this last ball and guarded it night and day. When we threw it high, he would leap up and catch it on the fly before it hit the ground. When we were busy with other things, old C.C. would place the ball near us and watch it with alert eyes and ears. If we paid no attention, he would politely push it a little closer and wait awhile longer. If we still took no notice, he would nose it right up to our feet, whine appealingly, and wag his stump tail. If even then we would ignore him he would droop his ears and sadly but meekly take the ball away, holding it in his mouth. Then, in dismal silence, he would carry if off to some place in the mesquite brush where he could be alone with it. Here he would drop it on the ground and look at it awhile. Then he would lie down and plan how he would jump for it when at some future time he would return to the haunts of man and find the human race in a more playful mood. Often when I was out hunting birds with my slingshot I would come upon old C.C. brooding over his ball in a clump of mesquites. Sometimes he would be asleep and his legs would be twitching as if he were dreaming about his game. Always, the ball would be in the sand nearby. But one day I looked up the gravel walk and saw two men coming, the barn man and his son. Between them they had old C.C. roped with two ropes, as if he were a wild steer, each man keeping his rope tight and staying at a safe distance. Old C.C. had gone mad. Unfortunately, we at King Ranch knew no cure for hydrophobia at that time, so we chained Old C.C. to the horse pen fence to let him gradually die. We could not shoot him because he had grown so human that even a mercy killing would have seemed like murder. We boys sat high on the gateposts. Old C.C. could not keep still. He dug big

holes and tried to get cool in them, but the more he dug the more he panted the more restless he became. There was no alertness in his eyes and ears any more. He no longer paid any attention to his ball, and we wished we had played more often with him when he was in his right mind. After Old C.C. was dead we buried him in one of those motts of mesquite brush were he had gone so often to muse and dream about his game. At the tip of his nose, we buried the ball... (Just after this C.C.'s smooth white cur mate is found laying as if resting in her kennel door, her head up, her eyes glassy, looking out at the

world- stiff and dead - and the boys were sure she died of grief for Old C.C. They say this is unusual, but -) Old C.C. was an unusual dog; unusually intelligent, unusually well

trained ,and unusually enterprising." Isn't that a sad story, Henry?? The places we read about our heroic Airedales!

Sandy Seaton Sallee

Well, it certainly had an unfortunate ending but it is a good story about an Airedale that enjoyed a good life with his human pack in Texas. These dogs can be so intense and business like when they need be and yet clown with the best of them, when it’s time to play.

Michael Gregg e-mailed recently to inquire about hunting Airedales in the Michigan Upper Peninsula, near Iron Mountain. He has hunted hounds in the past and has many friends that hunt Walkers and Plotts on big game. But, “I am looking for something a little different. I would love to have a hunting dog that is also more a part of the family.”

Michael, you are ‘ barking up the right tree’ looking for a versatile hunting Airedale. Airedale’s are first and foremost a people dog, with a loyalty to family bar none. I also have thoroughly enjoyed their ability to hunt a variety of game. They should be smart enough to figure out what it is your looking for on any given day and go to the task at hand. They are a hunting, working, companion dog that can rise to the challenge put before them!

I recently heard from Steve Brown, in Oregon, about his Cajun/Maggie dog named Dusty. “ Hi Kevin, Thanks for your E-Mail. Dusty is a nice looking 65 to 70 lb. rough coated with facial beard and intelligent looks and personality, type Airedale. He was the only survivor of his litter, as a cold spell unexpectedly blew in and killed all of his littermates one night.

I have never had to shear him since his coat is a low profile, curly, low maintenance type. It only grows to about 1 and 1/2 inches in length. He took after his momma in looks.

His hunt drive is quite good as he will check out everything and is quite game minded, with an extra dose of cat aggression, which I appreciate. He has some retrieving instincts, though I have not worked with him much in that area, but plan to eventually. His temperament is wonderful. Just a big kid with a good sense of humor, and is pleasant to have around, and is a good watchdog too. I hunt him on raccoon in this area and he caught on fast, with no fear of taking hold and receiving a bite now and then to go with what he dishes out. I plan to get him started on coyote decoy training soon, as it is now that time of year and we have plenty of coyotes to play with. His momma (Maggie) was a decoy dog and was quite good at it, according to John Houben.

Dusty’s and my hound's pups turned out awesome. 10 were born with 1 getting laid on at birth so 9 survived. 7 males and 3 females total. All looked Airedale except 2, a male and a female looked like black and tan hounds. Two males most recently went to a cougar hunting guide, in Winnemucca, Nevada. I'm looking forward to reports on those two in the future. Two females went to coon hunters locally, and the other female went to a coon and cat hunter in Washington State. And two went as pets. I still have two males left. The hound looking one, Slick, and a large boned, mostly black with beautiful dark red tan trim that will go 80 lbs. at full growth I think. I call him Brewzer, (as in big Brewzer). All of them showed a lot of hunt drive at 6 months on. So I expect them to do well with game. We'll see. I'll look up some pictures to send to you. Bye for now, Steve.”

Thank’s for that report, Steve. Let us know how you like the cross pups as they develop and I’ll be looking forward to the pictures of Dusty and the pups.

Henry continues to forward notes from Airedale people around the world and I am sure glad he does. This conglomeration of Airedale folks is like one big extended family and I would hate to loose touch with any of them.

This message is from Sean Cully, New Bloomfield, Pennsylvania. Zoe is a McCain/Lil Airedale pup from Wayne Waggoner, Biglerville, Pennsylvania, probably about 8 months old now.

“ Hi Henry, I haven't talked to you in sometime. Not much terrier work in the late winter early spring. The hounds have been my main focus for the last several months and they are doing well.

Just thought I would give you an update on Airedale, Zoe. Over the weekend I went out for a short time with my small male Jack Russell, Snuppy and Zoe. This was her first time out for ground hogs. We found one fairly quickly, about a 2' dig and the hog wanted out. Snuppy was really raising cane. Zoe from the beginning was very interested. She was digging like mad. I had control of the hog and let it run out of the hole I had dug. Zoe grabbed it within 10' of the hole. She had it by the back end, then she let go and got it by the head. She was content with her position at this time and just laid down and crunched on it.

I think she should be a good one. Thanks Wayne!!

How have you been doing? Anything new? Sean.

Good luck with Zoe, Sean. And keep those field reports coming.

It seems to me, that if you put something furry on the ground, running, an Airedale is going to chase it. Even if it’s the family cat! (The difference is that the Airedale ‘might’ not kill the cat.)

Billy Harkins is a fine craftsman from Georgia who knows how to have a good time. His story reminds me of the joke he told me a couple of years ago; What’s a rednecks famous last words? “Watch this!”

Billy’s story began like this; “Just a line to let you in on the current hunting adventures. Last week a fellow called me to let me know that he had some hogs rooting up his yard. He had heard that I liked to catch them with dogs and he being a hog hunter from his younger days, ask if I would help him out. Of course, he didn’t have to ask twice. I have been, having to work quite a bit lately so I had to hunt, of a night or of a morning. Well my old hunting buddy Rex and myself went the first night and didn’t do any good so we decided that the morning hunting would work a little better. Rex couldn’t get off the next time I wanted to go so I just decided to go it on my own.

I turned Steel up the ridge as he was turning flips on the lead any way. He kind of zig-zaged back and forth in the feeding sign, just a minute, then he turned up the ridge and ran I guess maybe two hundred yards then I heard him open up. I always know he's looking at it when he does that because he is dead silent on track. I waited just a minute to see if he would cross the ridge with it or stay in the big cove I was in, that is what I had hoped he would do. The other side was private and I hadn’t gotten permission to hunt it yet.

Steele was sounding pretty good so I packed Slim right in behind him. Well, in just a minute, it got silent again and so I decided to pull on up to the top of the cove, into the gap to see if they had gone through. Which is what I thought they might do. Well before I got to the top of the gap I heard the dogs baying down below me. They had gone back down towards the truck maybe a half a mile or so below me so I turned and went the way I had heard them. By the time I got back to the truck, no dogs and no hog. So I got out my tracking system and shot a track, they had pulled out so I got in my truck and headed out in hot pursuit.

They had run a long way, in fact they ended up crossing they road three times and that kind of scared me, I sure didn’t want them to get hit by a car. By the time I caught up with them they must have run about four miles, the way the crow fly’s. I just caught them off the track because they were headed into some rock cliffs and I didn’t feel like pulling through them, the dogs were tired and out of shape and I needed to go to work any way.

I went yesterday and found that the hogs had been back because there was a new skiff of snow on the ground from the day before. Well, I knew that this morning would be a good time to go so I was in the woods before daylight. I got the dogs out and headed to where the new sign was and the dogs went to pulling, so I turned Steel and Lucy loose and pulled up the hollow the way they went. Then Slim started pulling real hard so I packed him too. They jumped them on the top of the ridge and I heard Steel open up, then I could hear the hog a grunting. I pulled on up to the top and heard when Lucy got there because the poor hog went to squealing then. Steel and Slim had him caught by the ears and Lucy was castrating him. The only problem was that it was right in a fellows front yard. And it was still not daylight yet. The hog was hitting the door of the man’s carport and making a big banging noise. Plus the dogs were making a lot of racket and the hog giving out a blood curdling scream I was expecting the fellow to stick a gun out the window and shoot any minute. Oh well all I could do right now was try to get the hog tied. I went to get a hold of it’s tail but quickly realized that Lucy took it off first thing. Then I got a hold of its back legs and throwed him and went to tying him.

Shortly after that was done I noticed the lights in the house had come on and that I had some fast-talking to do. Luckily the folk were real understanding and didn’t get mad even though there was blood splattered all over their garage door. Being the nice guy that I am I offered to wash the blood off and gave them my phone number in case they changed there minds or saw any of the rest of the hogs in the future (HA!)

It was a good hog, about a hundred and fifty pounder I guess. I will keep him penned up till deer season is up then take the old boy back to the mountains. I once heard some body say that; “you can only kill something once,” I think that is a good philosophy and besides other than a small cut on Slims shoulder every one escaped relatively unharmed.

Henry, just in case I haven’t mentioned it I'd like to thank you and David Noe both for Steel and Slim. Because they have turned out to be the best bear and hog dogs I've ever owned.

Billy Harkins

I told Laurie, your story, Billy and she said “We ought to get Billy out here.” I guess she’s got something against the neighbors garage door! Thank’s for the story and you know your always welcome.

When Henry got the April issue of Full Cry he didn’t take long to respond;


Kevin and Clint:
Got the April "Full Cry" this afternoon and just now sat down and turned to the Working Airedale Terrier column to see how clean the new broom sweeps. Pretty sneaky, I would say. How did you find all those people, much less,
get them to say all those good things? I thought you had to die to get people to say good things about you like that. Well, I ain't dead yet. And I ain't out of Airedales and don't ever intend to be, even though in feeble old age I will be spending more time afield with the small terriers. I hope you can let all those good people know how much I appreciate what they
said. Almost got a tear in my eye there a time or two. But I have learned my lesson. Yes, you two are pretty sneaky and will bear watching. I'll have my eye on you every issue, Kevin, to see what you and old "Cold Wind from the North" Clint come up with. There's no way we will let these versatile hunting Airedales fade away. They are here to stay.
Henry
Fults Cove
Tennessee

Henry, I figured submitting your letter would be the best way for all those good people to know how much you appreciate what they said. I hope they all will continue to send their stories, so we can hear about their Airedales. Also, I have been reading back issues of Full Cry and would love to hear from some of the folks and dogs talked about in the early ‘90’s.

One quick story about Boru (Slim/Brisk) before I go; my son came up to the house to shoot some skeet. I took Boru down to watch and be around the gunfire. When we were done I took him off the lead and threw a stick down the hillside. He went to the tree that the stick got hung up in and spotted it. My son and I got talking for a little while before I called to Boru and told him to bring. He came running up the hill, from farther down. When he got to the top he handed me a clay pigeon that we had missed. He saw what we were shooting and that's what he brought back! These Airedales have "Buckets of Brains."

The quote of the month is: "If an owner of a lurcher asks too much of it before it is capable, the owner is courting trouble. Overmatching at too young an age (same with a working pony) is going to break a dog's heart. Patience is a virtue that every dog owner should possess, but, unfortunately, many don't." (Sammy Vaughan, Earth Dog--Running Dog, April 1999)

That’s all for this month and as Henry S. Johnson Jr. Always said: “Until next month, let me hear from you Airedale people and don’t forget to put your arms around those black and tan dogs with the beards and moustaches and talk to them. They are people dogs and family members. Respectfully submitted, Kevin G. Kelly, RDR Ranch Correspondent for the Working Airedale Terrier Association. No rules, regulations, officer’s, dues or formal affiliations. It’s more a state of mind!