Dude and Bre Kruger hacking the hounds back to the meet. Photo by Traci Duckworth.
A great huntsman impacts not only their hunt but members of other hunts. Sometimes this is through breeding their hounds, inviting guests to hunt, or attending hound shows and performance trials. In the case of Dave “Dude” Kruger, it was the Burwell.
North Hills Hunt has hosted an invitational hunt in Burwell, Nebraska, for something like 50 years. Little more than a slightly larger dot on a map, Burwell is known for three things: Nebraska’s Big Rodeo, the Calamus Reservoir, and foxhunting. It’s centrally located and easy to get to (if you don’t mind section roads through farmland), so the invitational weekends attract members from many hunts across the West. The country is only hunted 3-4 weekends a year so the coyotes are fresh and it’s always a good time. It is breathtakingly beautiful, and the weather is guaranteed to be interesting no matter the time of year.
The open, rolling hills of Burwell, Nebraska. Photo by Gretchen Pelham.
Dude is a friendly, welcoming, outgoing huntsman. He doesn’t care if it’s your first hunt or you’ve been at it for 50 years, he wants to show you the same kindness and good time. He and his wife, Bre, have made events with NHH ones to remember and add to your calendar because you feel like you’re returning to your best friends! It’s no surprise, then, that when they announced their retirement as huntsman/first whipper-in at the end of the 2022-2023 season, many folks made plans to attend their last Burwell invitational. There were over 50 riders there for the weekend, representing 9 different hunts.
I met Dude and Bre in Burwell in 2018. I had never foxhunted before and flew out to ride with a friend, whipper-in Helen Smith. I helped with some country work and then rode in the hunt with Helen, falling in love with foxhunting along the way. Dude and Bre (and the rest of the NHH family) invited me back anytime, which I did several times in the next few years, riding with Helen each time. When I was finally able to join my local hunt in 2020, I learned that it was Not Normal for guests and new foxhunters to be allowed to ride with a whipper-in: but that never mattered to Dude and Bre. This is but one example of just how kind and welcoming they are.
The 2023 Burwell spring invitational promised to be a good weekend. Thursday afternoon’s hunt was lovely: temperatures around 70, with light winds. I was riding with Helen as is now usual for us, but this was different: typically, we’re sent to be “outer” whips, but Thursday we ended up sticking close to Dude. This is always a fun spot for me because I love being right in the action and watching the huntsman work his hounds. Those hounds worked very hard indeed, in some tough conditions as it was a very dry winter. We did find a pair of coyotes, though I think it was Bre who spotted them first, telling Dude over the radio which direction to send the hounds. They gave a good chase, before losing the scent in the wind and the sight over one of Burwell’s many hills. We gathered the hounds and riders for one last “whoopie wagon”, where followers on ATVs supply the hunt with drinks and snacks, before heading in. Dude, always thinking of others, made sure we were well supplied while keeping an eye on the hounds and brought Helen and me our drink of choice.
Northside, the local place that is a staple in Burwell. Photo by Gretchen Pelham.
Thursday night’s dinner is an informal gathering at the restaurant in town, the Northside, owned by one of our local landowners. This is truly where it feels like being back among friends and family. Most people who come on Thursday have been to Burwell before, so much of the discussion surrounds what people have been up to since we last met and what plans are upcoming, rather than the simplistic “getting to know you” talk. I ended up sitting next to Dude and Bre, so got to hear about all their plans for “after hunting”: their new house, life with their two (adorable) boys, and Dude’s excitement over his new kitchen with all the recipes he’s going to try out. While I’m sad they won’t be a strong presence in NHH anymore, I loved the excitement they have for what’s next! But first, more hunting.
Friday is traditionally a “rest day” and was the opposite of Thursday from a weather perspective: cold, windy, and snowing sideways. We were lucky it was a rest day because it would have been poor hunting, indeed. Thankfully, the storm blew out as fast as it came in, and Saturday dawned cool and slightly damp: perfect hunting weather. We were at Matranga’s fixture, a change from the plan but always a good day. Typically, at Matranga’s, Helen and I are sent out to a hill on one side of some thick covert. It’s always feast or famine: either we’re right in the middle of the action, or we see nothing at all and enjoy a pleasant day listening to hounds voicing. Saturday was the latter, but we were blessed with some great company. Usually, we depend on Helen’s radio for updates of what’s going on, but it wasn’t quite working: either the hills were in the way, or the battery was low, or both. After about an hour of listening to some wonderful hound music and occasionally sending a wayward hound back in the direction of the pack, Bre let us know the hunt was headed back to the trailers. We followed suit, arriving last at the trailers, but not too late for the famous lunch of beef and noodles.
Sunday’s hunt was cool and slightly less damp at the Packard’s fixture. Packard’s is large, with lots of country to run. There was a general air of excitement: it was Dude’s last hunt and it was shaping up to be a lovely day. Again, Helen and I were sent out to the perimeter, joined by Faye and Belle, who both whip in at their home hunts. There was an interesting element to the day’s scenting: the Packard family burned some of their fields ahead of the spring growth the day before, and areas were smoldering and producing some light smoke. Nothing unsafe to ride or run over, but enough to confuse the hounds! We were after several couple of hounds who had lost the main pack only to find a line. The four of us stuck with them, watching in awe as they’d get to a burned section and stop abruptly as they lost the scent, before picking it up again as soon as they hit unburned ground. We got them turned back and met the rest of the hunt at a “whoopie wagon” stop.
After a brief rest (and some snacks and drinks), Dude called the staff over to explain the plan. It was a brilliant plan…and anyone who knows hunting at Burwell can tell you, the day then proceeded to go about as far from the plan as possible. Our team headed toward one of the fence lines, at the edge of the country and just down a hill from Dude and First Field. We could see everything until the hounds dipped on the other side of the field. We heard Bre over the radio “Tally ho! Tally ho! Yes, right there!”, followed by the distant sounds of hounds in full cry. We stayed put, knowing there were several Whippers-In on the side of the hounds, and not knowing which direction they would turn next. Shortly after, we heard Dude over the radio, “There’s one more in coyote heaven.”
The day was young, and we weren’t done yet. Dude sent the hounds back toward us, through a canyon housing some deer. We were given a heads-up that some deer had popped up and were headed in our direction, but no hounds seemed to be following. We still couldn’t see the hounds at this point, so we kept an eye out. Sure enough, the deer ran right past us: no hounds. Until wait! Yes, there are some hounds. I watched them for a moment and said, “Look alive, ladies, they’re right on that deer track”. They got closer to us, and sure enough: the sight hounds from a visiting pack had mistakenly moved on the deer, and many of the hounds were following. We were up and off after them: the four of us spreading out to best circle the pack. Most of the hounds, upon seeing and hearing us, quickly realized their error and turned back, but the sight hounds were too quick. We got stuck at a wire gate with no coops in sight.
Helen and I sent Faye and Belle along with him to help get the sight hounds, while Helen and I checked in with Dude to see where we were needed. He reported that all but the sight hounds had returned, and they were going to hunt back to the trailers. We headed toward them, slowly since we had a few wire gates and let-downs in our way. We finally caught up with First Field, who were larking back over every coop they could find. We joined in since we hadn’t jumped a single coop that day ourselves. No further coyotes showed themselves, but nobody was disappointed.
Dude’s last blow for home was long and filled with emotion. There was the excitement of a successful hunt, the enjoyment of a lovely day out, and the sadness at the end of a chapter. Knowing Bre, I’m sure she was crying too, and I’m sure she wasn’t alone! North Hills was my first hunt family, and Dude and Bre were integral to that. They will be missed by myself and many others, but I’m sure, like everyone who falls in love with foxhunting, they will be back someday. Goodbye for now, my friends, and thanks for a Burwell weekend that many will remember for years to come!
Dude and Bre Kruger. Photo curtesy of Bre Kruger.