Bear Grease - Ep. 350: This Country Life - Jessi Goes to School

Episode Date: August 1, 2025

Nothing will excite a family faster than bringing home a puppy. The emotions often sway back and forth from joy to frustration. When the pup you've brought home is there not just as a pet, but also to serve a purpose, the training journey from kindergarten to college graduate can be long and arduous. Brent's in the thick of it with his Treeing Walker puppy, Jessi. Plot twist, not everyone's happy with how it's working out so far. He's also sharing a listener story that fit perfectly with that theme. Get the treats out, it's time for MeatEater's "This Country Life" podcast. Shop This Country Life Merch Connect with Brent and MeatEater MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips Subscribe to the MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube Shop This Country Life Merch Shop Bear Grease MerchSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

First Lights fieldwear collection is made for the work that happens long before opening day and continues when the season ends. Products built for early mornings, full days in real use. Hard wearing where they need to be versatile where it matters. No shortcuts. Just gear designed for the work that earns the season. Built to perform, built to last. Check out. First Light's new fieldwear gear at firstlight.

Welcome to this country life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living, I want you to stay a while as I share my experiences and life lessons. This country life is presented by Case Nives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcasts the airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share.

Jesse goes to school. I've got a new project to work on. A living, breathing, chew up the patio furniture, long-eared tree and walker coon hound puppy named Jesse. One of my favorite things to do is training a young dog, and at times it can be somewhat frustrating. The ultimate rewards are reaped long after the process begins. You never know when you start working with a puppy where you'll end up, or if you'll even get to where you're wanting to go. I got a lot of stuff to talk about, but first, I'm going to tell you a story. This story comes from this country life listener, Jeremy Sullivan.

Jeremy's from Wicksburg, Alabama. Jeremy's sending this story a few weeks ago, and it fits perfectly with what we're talking about this week, so in Jeremy's words and my voice, here we go. I didn't grow up coon hunting, though I did grow up fishing and hunting for other game. I was 15 years old. my brother said, put your boots on. I want to take you cune-h. And we went to the home of an older man who had two sons that were just a couple years younger than me. This man's cune hound started barking as soon as we got there. There were two English bulldogs loose in the yard that came up

to greet us too. Introductions were made, and soon after, we loaded up the hounds and headed out. We drove down the dirt road about a mile and turned the dogs loose. They took off and dissoned disappeared into the darkness. Not long after they left us, they treed. We'd only turned out two dogs, but we could plainly hear more dogs barking at the tree. I couldn't figure out where the other dogs came from, but the boys we were hunting with didn't pay any attention to it. I didn't say a word. I just followed along, excited to be there and couldn't wait to get to the tree. Finally, we got there, and the two walker hounds had a coon tree. They were barking like crazy, and right beside them were those two English bulldogs from the yard trying just as hard as they were.

Now that was my first introduction to Coon Hunt. I loved every minute of it. My brother enjoyed it, but not as much as I did. When I was 16, I kept going with those guys as long as I could. And one day, the old man called me to his house. He had a litter of pups that were just weaned, and he said, since you've been hunting with us, I'm going to give you the little. the pick of the litter. I knew nothing about picking out a coon hound pub. The only thing I knew was that I needed a dog that would pay attention if I was going to be able to train it to hunt. I walked up to the kennel and squeaked my lips. One little female perked her ears up and she looked at me. She was the one. This was not only my first coon dog, but it was the first dog that was really mine.

We had bird dogs, but this dog belonged to me. I put her in the front seat of the truck, and I took her home. And I took her back with me later that same night when we met up to go hunting. We treed and killed a coon. I cut the tail off of that coon and told the boys I was about to start training her, and they laughed at me saying, she's too young. I started playing with her with that tail, just like you'd play with any puppy with a toy. And I told one of them to hold her, and I poured a little bit of water on that tail, and I drug it

around the other side of the truck, and I put it on top of the tire, and then I told him to let her go. She put her nose to the ground, she followed that scent and got up on that tire looking at the tail. She never barked, but I knew then that I really had something to work with. I knew nothing about training the dog, but I had watched the dogs hunting in the woods. I'd seen Billy Coleman drag a hide for his red bones in the movie where the red fern grows. So every day, when I got home from school, I would drag a hide into the woods and put it up a tree. Then I would let my pup Abby trail it and tree it. That didn't take her long to get the hang of it.

She never barked while she trailed it and rarely barked on the tree. She would just get up on the tree and stare at it. And I would try to sock her up by yelling, and speak to him, Abby. And she would bark a few times, and I would praise her for it. When she was six-month-old, we turned her and two other dogs loose one night. Initially, she stayed around the truck, but eventually she moved off into the edge of the woods, the two other dogs treeed, and we walked to the tree.

I tried to call her to the tree when we were there, but she never came. We found that, Coon, headed back and loaded the dogs back in the truck, and I called and called trying to find her, but she wouldn't come. I was starting to worry, and then I remembered, when she trees a drag, she doesn't bark much. Maybe she's treed. I told the boys I thought she was treased,

and they laughed and said, well, it sure don't sound like it. And I started yelling. Speak to him, Abby, speak to him. And she started barking about 150 yards into the woods. We walked a bit, and I'd yell again, and she'd bark once or twice more, and then hush. We repeated this until we made it to her and shining the tree, we found six kitten coons. Those boys had laughed at me about my dog twice now, but this time they were really eating crow.

I suppose the sow put the kittens up and tried to draw the dogs away from them, and the old dogs treeed the sow, and my dog treated the kittens. And from that night forward, she was an excellent, very accurate coon dog. She also barked on the tree after that night. I hunted five to seven nights per week all through high school, which kept me out of all the trouble that my classmates got into. Abby lived for 14 years and gave me, my friends, and family many wonderful nights in the woods. And after she died, I moved twice, and it wasn't practical for me to own another koon dog.

But after Brent Reeve started this country live podcast and kept talking about koon hunting, it reignited a fire deep in my soul. Last week, me, my wife, and my four kids drove three hours to pick up a walker puppy. It's time my kids got to experience the passion for coon hunting that I once had. Thanks, Brent, for your unknown pride to get me back in the night woods and for the many wonderful memories that my family is about to enjoy together. And according to Jeremy Sullivan of Wicksburg, Alabama, that's just how that happened. Jeremy, my man, you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear that.

My high school principal said my influence on folks is what led to the great explosion in shop during my agri class. He didn't know it was actually me that did it, but Johnny Nolan did. so did Greg Hayes, Richard Bickers, and a whole crew of other folks who watch me do it and never said a word. I owe them a debt of gratitude

and to you as well for sharing your story. Thanks, partner. Last spring, Clay Newcomb and I collaborated with Jason Phelps at Phelps Game Calls and building each of our own favorite turkey diaphragms called prime cuts. Now, I'm going to tell you, I love mine because it's easy to use.

I'm not going to go, I'm not going to win a turkey calling contest. It's just not going to happen. But when I run this call, I get the sounds that gobblers are looking for. I have a great turkey hunting track record. If you go listen to real turkeys out in the woods, they're not going to win calling contests, right?

That's who I listen to. I can make those sounds on my cut. I also hunt with Phelps's cut, and I hunt with Clay's cut because they're all three great cuts. Check out Prime Cuts at Phelps games. Game calls.com. I think you'll be glad you did, and you'll find out that the Steve Ronella cut is an easy-to-use cut for beginning callers who just want to start making good turkey noises and getting action.

Mentioned puppies around my house two months ago, and the smiling and giggling from Alexis and Bailey was a symphony of happiness and anticipation. Now, as I stand on the patio, listening to Alexis, tell me in no uncertain, terms how my puppy has her backyard looking like a scene out of a Mad Max movie. We're all wondering if this was such a good idea. I get to picking stuff up and she walks back inside. Now, 30 minutes later, I'm back in the house and she's out sunning on the patio talking to the sole culprit in all of that backyard bedlam like she's an angel

as she pets and loves on that flop-eared monkey like it never happened. I forget to make up the bed and I'm in trouble for a week. Such is the life I lived and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Jesse, our seven-month-old Tree and Walker puppy is here, at least for a while if she can hold up her end of the bargain and start Tree and Coons eventually. That's the big question. Will she be able to do this on her own and to the standard of which I expect? Now, I'm not nearly as particular as my good friend Michael Roe.

Roseman, and he will tell you himself he's hard to please, but he doesn't have to say it because I remind him of it all the time. Michael expects a lot out of his dogs because in the arena that he competes in, speed and accuracy are critical to success. Here's an example. If he turns his dog heck out and he strikes a coon, which means he starts barking as he moves through the woods and trailing the scent, and in ten minutes he comes treeed and we walk to that tree and see the coon looking back at us. Michael tries to figure out why heck didn't do that in nine minutes instead of ten. Now, why would one minute matter one way or the other? Well, in a timed competition where the dog's scores are all relative to the clock, it makes a big difference. Dogs are scored

on different things, but the main two are who barks first and who trees first. Just on the score relating to the dog's tree. And if they happen to both tree on the same tree, meaning they are both saying, hey, there's a coon up here. The difference between tree and first and being one second behind the first dog is 50 points. If that dog barks second on that tree a minute after the first one does, the second tree drops in value dramatically. And that's why a dog that runs in a pack or likes to be with others when hunting usually doesn't make for a good competition dog. Independent long wolf hounds are always more desirable. Michael's not being unbearable.

Well, not about how his dog hunts. His total disdain for coffee is often perplexing, but how that dog strikes trails and trees of coon and the speed in which it does are important in competition, and that all starts when they're puppies. Michael has a litter mate, a sister to Jesse, and he hasn't even named her yet. We took them both out the other night for the first time, and I said, what's her name? Michael said she didn't have one.

He's had her for the same amount of time I've had mine, and we picked them up on the same day. Mine had a name when I found out I was getting one, six weeks before I got her. I asked him why he hadn't named her yet. Michael said, I don't want to waste a good name on a sorry dog if she don't turn it. out. I get it. Probably why I thought my name was to go get firewood until I was about eight. Anyway, just like Jeremy Sullivan, Billy Coleman, and yours truly, training starts the day you bring them home. I admit that Jeremy and Billy may have started a little early, but I can't argue with either's results, especially Jeremy's because his were real, while Billy's was a

pigment of Mr. Wilson-Raw's imagination. But training does start, and it's the assimilation of that puppy into the new world away from where for the last eight weeks, it's called one place home. Jesse's learning curve has been mostly a flat line and somewhat disappointing. When we got whaling, he was six months old and as chill as a dog can be. It's unfair to compare the two because, like people, dogs are different. There's a difference in my brother. others of me and the reason I have two older ones is because my parents stopped after finally

getting the right combination of brains and beauty. At least that's what I was told. Whalen wasn't much of a chewer, and Jesse would make a beaver jealous. She's knotted up enough stuff around my house that I've laid in bed at night imagining where I'd put the beaver traps to catch her. Allow me to give you a partial list. The back door rub. Old one, and the new one. The flap over her doghouse entrance. The air conditioner cord for her dog house. The extension cord to the air conditioner to her dog house.

The cover for my Blackstone grill. The sealed tub of grilling supplies. The contents of the sealed tub of grilling supplies. The cover for my camp chef grill. The water hose nozzle. The outside dryer vent. I could go on, but I won't. All you folks that are picking up your phones to text or post that the dog is

bored, trust me, I know this. Telling me that youngster is bored and looking for things to occupy her time by chewing instead of twiddling her non-existent thumbs would be like me meeting Noah and trying to describe to him how bad the great flood was. He was there. Just like I am here bearing witness to the buffoonery that seems to abound wherever my associates lay their heads. I know she's bored. I also know she's a puppy, and this too, shall pass. The tricky part in training puppies is it's like planting apple trees. It takes a while before the apple started making.

Now, my better analogy is how I described it to Alexis yesterday while we stood on the back patio and did a bomb damage assessment on the battlefield we used to call the backyard. Training a coon hound to be a coon dog is going on a journey. You know where you want to go. You want to go to Coondog land. the mystical place where coons stir right at dark, possums, ticks, and mosquitoes don't live,

and there are no leaves on the trees year-round. Bad thing is, there's no map on how to get there, and the compass you have is powered only by patience. You'll hear me refer to these dogs as coon hounds and coon dogs. They are two different things. A coon hound is a word that describes a particular set of hounds, specifically bred for the purpose of tree and coons. A coon dog is a title, a title given to a coon hound that can go strike the scent of a coon,

trail it to a tree, and bark until you get there. To the houndsman purists, all coon hounds aren't coon dogs, but all coon dogs are coon hounds. That statement will raise questions and opinions on which breed is best and have folks saying, well, I've got a half-poodle and a half-shedlea pony that will treat coons as good as any pure-bred hound on the planet. And that may be true. But that ain't no coon dog. That's a half-poodle and half-shetling that trees coons. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

I just live by them. But I stand in support of you and whatever creature you use to chase coons regardless of what it is. It's just that like Doc Holliday, my hypocrisy only goes. so far. So on July the 12th, I left matter than a mashed cat, Whelan the Wonderhound at home with Alexis and loaded Jesse for her first outing since I brought her home and literally unleashed calamity on our property and happiness. I expected nothing fruitful or even remotely satisfying and anticipated a steady den of barking from the dog boxes. I made my way to Michael's house to pick him, heck, and Jesse's sister, or

what's her name of? Not one peep was made. I pulled into Michaels and he had his two ready to load. And in short order, we were making our way toward our first evaluation of the sisters we'd invested money in to see if the investment of time would be worth the expenditure. Adding two dogs to the box didn't even register a sound from Jesse. We stopped for gas and Michael peeked from the dog box expecting to see terrified and cowering eight-month-old pups.

They were just chilling. No worries. All right. So far, so good. We arrived at our hunting spot, unloaded the side-by-side, transferred all three from the dog crate in my truck to the one on the side-by-side,

and outside of Michael's pup, slobbering all over heck from the experience of the trip, neither one got sick or messed in the box. Now, that's a mark in the plus column before we even get started. We drove down the river levee and spotted a coon pretty quickly. We cut them all loose at the same time, and heck, winded the coon and started treeing in short order. Now, we ignored the pups who had no idea what was going on, but I'm sure we're interested in not only all the new sights and smells and location with an added element of darkness,

but could sense our excitement and praising of heck whose attention was loudly focused on treeing that coon. The pups eventually made their way over and smelled on the ground where we'd first seen the coon, which was only a few feet from where Heck was treeing him. I watched them as they showed interest in every aspect of what was going on, even though they had no idea what it was. We praised Heck and loaded them all up and changed locations to a pasture edge where we strike a lot of coons in a shallow slew that floods out into that field. Heck struck right away and was off.

The grass was much shorter here, and the pups moved all over creation with their noses on the ground and in and out of the water. Jesse poked her head in the water up to her eyeballs two or three different times and moved around with purpose sometimes 50 or more yards away. The heck treed that coon across the levee on the flooded timber, and we changed locations again. This time we moved to the edge of a big cornfield that bordered a big old cypress swamp. ground zero for coons to be operating between their dens and one of their favorite meals free fresh corn on the cob i admit it's one of my favorites too this was a great place to see if they would venture off further away from us the border between the swamp and the and the cornfield was a sand farm road that the coons would have to cross from from woods to the corn patch and back and forth we walked the pups and heck down the road away from the side of the side and we cut them loose and Heck left like he was late for work like he always does, and at one time the pups ventured out about 250 yards down that road in front of us.

Heck was working a track out in the swamp and they were just milling around doing their own thing and seeing what they could find. They never made a sound. They never acted like they had a clue what was going on, but they didn't hang around us looking timid, sad, scared, or like they wanted to be somewhere else. Those are all positives, and in the puppy training world, you look for the positives and work off of those. It's repetition and positive reinforcement that wins this race, along with being patient enough to know that dogs, like people, learn at different speeds.

By matching our expectations with how that individual dog soaps in the lessons we're trying to get across, teaches us just as much as we teach us. them. It's up to us to recognize the pace at which both of these things happen and realize that if that hound doesn't get what we're trying to get across to him, it may not be their inability to learn. It may be our inability to teach. Some are natural and instinctive learners and really the only job we have is to tell them what we don't want to do. That was wailing for me. And it will spoil you to dogs that require more patience and time. Will Jesse turn out to be that way? Well, you're going to find out what I do.

This is going to be our project. Jesse, the This Country Life Coonhound Project, and I'm going to take you with me and keep you updated as we go along. I think it'll be fun to mark her progression or lack of as we attempt to navigate from Coon Hound and Coon Dog. It's going to be fun. Thank you all so much for listening, and my goodness, y'all are snatching those This Country Life hats and t-shirts up like biscuits at breakfast. I thank you so much for the support and encourage you to snag yours sooner than later.

They tell me they're going out the door faster than they're coming in. Until next week, this is Brent Reeve, signing off. Y'all be careful. First Lights Fieldware collection is made for the work that happens long before opening day and continues when the season ends. Products built for early mornings, full days, and real use. Hard wearing where they need to be versatile where it matters. No shortcuts. Just gear designed for the work that earns the season.

Built to perform, built to last. Check out. First Light's new fieldwear gear at firstlight.com.