Bear Grease - Ep. 360: This Country Life - Taking the Hounds to Town

Episode Date: August 29, 2025

Contrary to what you might think from the title, we’re not headed to the local drive through for coffee and pup cups. In this episode, Brent’s hauling Waylon the Wonder Hound in the truck going on a competition coon hunt. Brent’s giving a quick lesson on how those contests are held, and his and Waylon’s experiences competing in them. Grab your light, grab your boots, 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.

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Welcome to this country life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From Coon Hunting to Trotlining 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 Knives from the Storemore Studio on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcasts that Airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share. Taking the Hounds to Town

Taking a Hound to Town has in the circle of coon hunters meant you were going to enter a competition coon hunt. It's a contest rooted in history and celebrated to this very day. I'm going to go into my experiences with it and give you the scoop on what it's meant to me. It's a story that took about 25 minutes to tell in four years to write. We got a hound to cut loose. So let's get started. On Friday, April 9th, 2021, my friend Rex Whiting called me early in the day and said,

Have your stuff ready? We're going to coon hunting tonight. Now, that wasn't unusual. It wasn't unusual at all. We went coon hunting a lot back then. My dog Whalen was a year old, and Rex had been helping me with his training. Rex was the guy who wound up being my friend by being nosy. He was driving by my house on his way to town.

and saw me out in the driveway, cleaning out a dog box that I had in the back of my truck. Since he was a hound hunter himself, he took the opportunity to meet me, pulled up, and started interrogating me on what kind of hunter I was. Was I hauling duck dogs in that truck or coon dogs? Being where Rex and I are from, it was a safe bet. I was one or the other. I was actually both, but my old lab Anna passed away a few years before, and I had really, recently acquired a coon hound named Whalen. Rex had lost his hunting partner a few years prior, and after we visited for a while,

we decided we'd go together soon, and we did, and we became friends. Rex was a competition hunter with lots of experience, and I've talked about him many times on here, as I'm sure some of you may remember hearing me say his name. So just to catch the new folks up, Rex became my coon hunting coach.

A couple hours before he came by the house to pick me up on that Friday night, he called me back and said, we're taking Whelan to town tonight. I've got you and Whelan registered in a UKC hunt at the Faulkner County Coon Club. Now, the official name is the Faulkner County Coon Hunters Association, and it's located near Conway and registered as an official club with the United Kennel Club, or UKC as it's commonly referred to, headquartered in California. Alamazoo, Michigan.

All very official and lofty-sounding names of which I was only aware of UKC as a dog registry and completely ignorant of the Coon Club and most especially competition hunts. I wasn't sure I knew the rules well enough to be in the competition. Actually, I was positive I didn't. But my coach said we were taking whaling to town, so that's what we did. Now, all the way over from my house to the clubhouse, I was quizzing Rex on this and that about the rules and more or less adding more pressure to myself. Rex said, just call his name out to the judge when you hear him strike a track and call him

treat when you hear him treat a coon. If you need any help, too bad. You're on your own and I can't help you. This competition is you and wailing against the world. Good luck, we're counting on you. And with that, my bald-headed veteran coon hunting coach kicked me out of his truck and drug me inside to meet the folks that was running the contest. The clubhouse was a modest structure that appeared well kept and well used. You could tell that there were folks here that had been there

for a long time, folks that had regular spots on the furniture and folks who'd probably made some of them. The coffee pot was in full swing and there were two men sitting at a table registering hunters for the drawout that would come later. That's how it works. There are different divisions for dogs at different levels of proficiency, and each dog is entered into the category of registered dogs with similar talent. Depending on how many dogs show up, determines how many groups or castes are sent out to hunt. Dogs with little or no experience in competition hunts are sent out together. In UK, it's hounds, male or female, that have zero to four competition cast wins that are grouped together. No more than that.

than four hounds and no less than two can officially make a United Kettle Club cast. I was grouped with one other person, a man who had a dog from Port Tobacco, Maryland. Now, the man wasn't from there, but the dog was. And Port Tobacco is a town founded in 1727, 109 years before Arkansas became a state. How that dog wound up in Arkansas at the Faulkner County Coon Hunters Association, UKC, hunt is beyond me, but there we were. Two tree and walkers, mine a year and a half old, and his, a pretty five-year-old female named Dixie.

Now, I'm glad we were all there, mainly glad Rex was there. I was nervous as a fellow could be. We drove a short distance to where we were going to turn loose. Me and Rex, the man who owned the dog from Maryland, and the hunt judge, who would also be our guy. Rex was allowed to go with us as an observer only. He couldn't participate in the hunt or assist me in any way. No questions, no suggestions, no facial expressions, anything that could be construed as aid in any form

for his minor league dog handler that he just called up to the majors. They gave us the time to be back at the clubhouse to turn the scorecards in after the hunt. The judge explained that he wasn't putting up with any foolishness, and would judge each of us fairly and firmly. If we had questions, we could address them in the field openly. If that wasn't good enough, we could appeal anything to the master of hounds back at the clubhouse. It was in the low 60s when we cut loose and the wind was blowing just hard enough to make it feel a few degrees cooler. They'd made it about 50 yards when Whalen barked first and I called his name.

Strike Whalen! Now, Rex told me to say it where there was no doubt in anyone. mind that I had called my dog. I looked over at him and he nodded his approval as the judge repeated back to me. Whalen struck for a hundred. Wailing worked that track in a short order, he came Tried with his loud, booming chop that you can hear forever. Trey Whelan, I heard the judge say, Whelan Tried for 125. Then Dixie opened up and her handler said, strike Dixie. The judge answered Dixie for 75. The only problem was she, She wound up running the same track that Whalen did, and when she treed with Whalen, the only

points were available were for second tree. And that's 75 points. That's what the value was. He called Dixie Tried, and the judge said, strike points are voided. Dixie Tried for 75. Now, had she opened up before Whelan was declared Tried before I called Trey Whelan, she would have had 75 second strike points and 70s. for a second tree. But once a tree is declared, there are no more strike points available.

I know that sounds confusing, but it's really not if you think about it. It makes sense to do that because it keeps dogs from just following other dogs around scoring points off their ears rather than using their noses. Kind of like copying the answers on a math test. You didn't do the work, but you're going to get some of the credit. If the answers are right, that is. and on the scorecard, Whalen was leading by 150 points. He had 225 to her 75, but those points are only good if we find the coon.

I remember walking up to it, and it was a small white oak tree about 14 inches in diameter. Whelan was standing there on his hind legs and had his front paws on the trunk of the tree, and his head laid back telling the world he'd found a coon. Dixie was on the opposite side of the tree, barking in agreement. About 25 feet up in the air was the prettiest pair of yellowish green eyes looking back at me. I got him, Judge. He looked up, as did Rex and Dixie's handler, and everyone agreed. Whalen now had 225 plus points, and Dixie had 75 of her own. Now, the judge stole us to walk our dogs, so we walked about 80 yards away and recast them.

They both took off in different directions. Then in the cool crisp area, I heard Dixie open up, and her handler called her struck, strike Dixie for a hundred. The judge said, I got Dixie for a hundred. Then she started treeing, tree Dixie. Dixie for 125. Now, Whalen hadn't made a peep since leaving that tree. I was watching him on my Garmin Tracker,

and he was working all over a drain that siphoned down toward Lake Conway. I just knew at any moment he would have opened up, but he didn't. And now we were all walking to score Dixie's tree with very little time left in the hunt. Now, if she'd have had a coon in that tree, she'd have an additional 225 points to go with their 75. And if Whaling the Wonderhound didn't do something pretty quick, the closest thing we were going to be to winning our first competition hunt was being the first loser. All of a sudden I didn't feel too good about our chances. For someone who had repeatedly said,

I'm not sure I'd even want the competition, Coon Hunt. Thought of losing this hunt was apparently more important than I thought. We all got the Dixie's tree and began searching for a coon. And in the vein of competition, that man not being able to find that coon, even if it was up there, would mean Whalen would win. trees that are scored where a coon isn't found but could possibly be there hidden in the vegetation or in a hole big enough for them to seek refuge in will have the points circled.

Meaning the coon may have been in there, but we couldn't prove it, and we couldn't prove it wasn't. They're called circle points, and a million circle points won't be one plus point because as in Whalen's tree, everyone heard him bark. Heard him bark first, and they saw him the coon in the tree that he had treed on. Those are plus points. We searched and searched Dixie's tree, and I tried to find her coon. Had she had one, and I was the only person to have seen it, I would have pointed it out to the handler and the judge,

and I would have lost the competition, but I would have done the right thing. In the UKC handbook of rules, they're not referred to simply as rules. They're called honor rules. And there's a reason for that. And the main reason is just for situations like that one. Last spring, Clay Newcomb and I collaborated with Jason Phelps at Phelps game calls in 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 Phelpsgamecalls.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. She'd treaded on a big water oak, and it was a huge old tree with lots of leaves that had come on, and we searched and searched that tree right up until the time that the hunt was over, but we couldn't find it. Judge declared the point circled, and with time up, Whelan had won his first and my first.

UKC hunt we ever entered. Dixie's handler shook my hand and said congratulations. I was excited and happy with how'd we done. I was proud of how Waylon had performed and relieved of how I hadn't messed up. This competition coon hunting is fun and apparently pretty easy. I'd entered and won my first UKC hunt against a more experienced dog and handler. I must be a natural at this. I was not.

Over the course of a year, 2021 into 2022, I entered three more competition hunts and got my tail whipped all three times. I could have easily entered 10 times that many in that span of time and took a lot of chastisizing by Rex Whiting and my other coon hunting coach, Michael Roseman, both of them telling me,

you got a good dog. You ought to be hunting him in these hunts to get a title. It just didn't matter much to me, even though I enjoyed meeting new folks who liked the same things as I did, coon hounds and all the things that go with them. I just never really got stoked up about hunting in an official contest. Case in point, our fifth and final contest that happened a year later on May the 7th, 2022.

Michael and I had gone to St. Charles, Arkansas, to hunt a UKC sanctioned event sponsored by the East Arkansas Coon Hunters Association. I would be hunting with folks that I didn't know and had met only that night. One fellow was hunting a black and tan and one was hunting a blue tick. Our guide, who was also serving as the judge, which is the official scorekeeper of the hunt, was hunting a tree and a walker like I was. I had my work cut out for me. I could tell these guys were veterans of competition hunts,

after we drove to where we were going to be turning loose and sat around and talked before we did. I told the other three that if y'all want to practice taking advantage of someone who doesn't know the rules very well, tonight's your night, gents. I have no idea what I'm doing. And they all laughed, and I laughed with them. Whalen, who I was holding by the lease, he'd taken all the slack out of and was raring to go, look back at me and the rest of us as if to say, he ain't kidding me, he ain't got a clue, but let's get on with it.

And with me being thankful dogs couldn't talk, the judge said, all right, y'all ready? Cut them loose. Four hounds, each trying to get in the lead left in a cloud of dust down the edge of a stand-to-hardwood timber bordered by a big soybean field. They didn't go 80 yards before the barking started, and whaling was third in line to start making racket. That's not a good way to start, considering that,

That only gave him 50 points to start out with in a hunt that was only going to last 90 minutes. That's why a few episodes ago when I talked about dogs being quick to get gone, strike a track and begin barking and come treat is so important. You only have so much time to score plus points, and plus points are what mattered most in a competition hunt. The dogs treated wheyland was last to start barking out of the group. The Coon was found and seen. by all of us. We cut them loose after that tree was scored, and me and my four-legged little

buddy were in last place. And I only knew that when the judge, who's now my friend, Barry McEwen, from DeWitt, Arkansas, called out the places we all held and our scores. Fourth place out of four. We had nowhere to go but up from right there, but I wasn't upset. Whelan had done everything I'd ask him to do. He's not a follower or a run with the crowd dog. He's independent to a fault and was only striking and intrigued with the other dogs because they'd all smelt the same coom when we turned them loose. He was there with them purely out of coincidence.

I had nothing to be upset about. When I saw him hunt carefree and unbothered by the other dogs, I felt like I'd already won. Rex and Michael have some rain man-type math skills when it comes to keeping up with everyone else to score and what their dog needs to do to get ahead and what they don't need to do to get behind. And there's as much strategy that goes into the competition that the best dog doesn't always win. Some might say that that takes the fun out of it and that the handler really doesn't have anything to do with the outcome or the performance of the dog. And that's, that is far from the truth. The handler is the head coach.

He practices and works on corrected minor faults all through the training time and in-between competitions to correct and improve performance. There are a ton of rules in hunting competitions, and a well-versed knowledgeable handler with a decent dog will have the advantage over a better dog with a poor handler. Clock management is key, and knowing where everyone stands on the scorecard is paramount. There are grace periods and time limits to be considered for individual parts of the hunt that when called too soon or too late can have direct results on who wins and who loses. Now, my knowledge of the rules or lack of them in coon hunting competitions could be rendered down to football terms. I figured there's probably more folks listening to this that can relate to those than the ones I barely even know,

and I've been in competition hunts. But I can kind of break it down like this. Run left, run right, throw the ball, and punt on fourth down if you don't get a first or score. In coon hunting, it's call Whalen's name when he strikes, call his name when he trees. It's my own fault for not knowing any more than that. I had two of the best competition coaches of my own

that I hunted with weekly. I just didn't care. but not in a non-carrying way, if that makes any sense. I was having such a great time being out there with those men and their dogs that I couldn't have begun to even guess the score or how much time was left in the hunt. Some dogs had treeed and no coons were found. Others had done good here and there, but there was none of them, including my own, that was doing anything exceptional,

except old Whalen hadn't done anything wrong. Some of the others had. One in particular was actually withdrawn from the competition by his handler. There was just no way he could catch up with the rest of us after making a fault and getting a minus point. So he chose to throw in the towel. I was listening to them talk about his withdrawal and trying to follow along and figure out how the rules all played out when Whalen started barking.

So I just called him struck. And then he started treeing a few moments after, and I treed him. I had no idea how much time was left in the hunt, what anyone's score was, or what mine was for that matter. I just knew my dog had treated a coon, or he sounded like he had, and was within 75 yards of where we were standing. We all walked over and someone said, I got him. Now, that's the universal callout of someone seeing a coon. We all walked to where he was, and sure enough, about 20 feet off the ground was a coon looking back at the four of us, and my barking hound dog.

Barry said, Wayland, 2.25 plus for strike and tree. Time up, men. That's the hunt. He then took out his scorecard and he commenced to doing some figure. He added, re-added, and added again.

I and other two men were busy visiting about how much fun we'd had and how much we'd enjoyed hunting together when Barry said, congratulations, Mr. Reeves. Sir, congratulations, you won. Are you kidding me? He looked at the scorecard again as if doubted in his calculations

after my less than enthusiastic response. Then with everyone looking over his shoulder, he went through the hunt and did a play-by-play of the hunt as it played out in the woods and on paper. Sweet Jesus, I did win. But I learned more than I won. I learned that while competition coon hunting is fun, I didn't embrace it enough as a competition handler to keep up with it while I was doing it. I enjoyed the community of the endeavor, the heritage, and the legacy of the participants in the stories of the dogs present and past far beyond the arena of competition.

Barry McEwen could have told me I came in last place and I'd have never known the difference or been affected negatively by the outcome. My dog had done what I asked him to do, and I had honored him by believing what he told me. While I fully support all the registries that carry on the legacy of coon hunting and follow with enthusiasm, a lot of the big competitions, engaging in them beyond being a spectator, it just ain't who I am. And I learned that four years ago in St. Charles, Arkansas, beneath a big red oak tree on a cool spring evening. I'm a coon hunter and proud to be recognized as one, but for me, it's about as far as it goes. On September the 6th, from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., I'll be at the Shepherd Hills Cutlery Celebration

in the Ozarks in Lebanon, Missouri. If you get there and pronounce it Lebanon, you will be identified as a spy and thrown into the stony lonesome. It's Lebanon. I learned that the hard way. Alexis and Bailey will be with me and we'll have some this country life merch available, along with some of my signature case mini trappers. Bring the whole family. It's going to be a great time. Thank you all so much for listening.

Share your stories with us at MyTCL Stories at the Meat Eater.com. And until next week, this is Brent Reeves. Signing all. 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.