Field Master Gus Forbush, MFH / Karen L. Myers photoSaturday, November 28, 2009. A large field of about fifty or sixty met at Henchmen’s Lea near the Old Dominion Hounds’ kennels. For the first draw, huntsman Gerald Keal had taken hounds to nearby Thumb Run. Field Master Gus Forbush was standing by a field of soybeans on Thumb Run when he heard hounds speak. Here’s his story:
“The hounds’ voices were weird,” recalled Forbush. “I wasn’t sure what was happening.”
At that point, Keal came galloping back and said there was a bobcat caught in a snare on the other side of the river.
Forbush galloped back with Keal and brought along field member Emily Hacker to hold horses if necessary. The trio crossed the river, galloped down the trail, then had to dismount. Emily held the horses, and Forbush watched Keal race off through the bushes.
“I saw Gerald running, then he disappeared for a moment, reappeared and continued running. I didn’t think anything of it and followed him at a run. Next thing I know, I’m flying through the air big-time. After I dragged myself back up off the ground, I looked and saw, just about eight inches off the ground, an old wire fence.”
The wire had pulled both of them down, but they continued running until they reached the hounds.
“There was the bobcat, and it was a big one. He had the snare around his neck, and the wire—about four to five feet long—had wrapped around a tree limb, so he was doubly caught.”
Old Dominion huntsman Gerald Keal / Karen L. Myers photoIn Virginia, it’s illegal to tamper with a snare if it’s legal. To be legal, the trapper has to have permission of the landowner, and the snare has to be identified with the trapper’s name. Since neither of those conditions were met in this case, Forbush felt it was safe to consider the snare illegal. But what to do?
On the opposite bank, only about seventy-five feet away, the field stood and watched.
“‘I don’t know anything to do but to shoot him,’ Gerald said to me. I looked across the river where the field was standing, and there were cell phones and cameras. My God, Gerald, I said, we can’t shoot this thing in front of all these people! Throw your coat over him.
“Gerald took his scarlet coat off, threw it over the thing, and the cat dispatched that coat in a matter of seconds. It went flying through the air. Well, I said, that’s not going to work.
“Now, Gerald is pretty slick. He fashioned a snare out of his hunt whip by loosening where the thong attaches to the leather piece on the handle. He ran the cracker back through there and formed his own snare. After a couple of attempts, he got it over the cat’s head, pulled it back real quick, and stabilized the cat.
“I got around behind the cat, grabbed his front legs, and squeezed his body between my legs to immobilize him. I had riding boots on so I figured he couldn’t scratch me, and as long as Gerald had his head I wasn’t afraid of him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have touched him! His forearms were as big as mine. I grabbed him about six inches behind his paws. They were huge!
“About that time, Scott Dove [then honorary whipper-in, now Joint-MFH] runs up. The first thing he says is, ‘Man, I busted my tail back there!’ He had fallen over the same wire!
“Scott had wire cutters, and he commenced to clip the snare from around the cat’s neck.”
After Dove removed the wire snare, Keal gave his hound-whip-snare to Dove to keep the cat stabilized. Keal went back to the horses, remounted, and took the hounds away.
“Scott looks at me and says, ‘What do we do now?’ I say, How the hell do I know? I’ve never done this before! The field is still standing and watching. I say, Scott, the only thing I can think of is to toss him over there in the grass and hope for the best. I’m also thinking, all I have to do is outrun Scott and the cat will get him instead of me! But Scott is tall and long-legged and could probably run like hell. Anyway, I said just get ready to move quick, ‘cause I don’t know what this thing is going to do.
“We pitched him over in the grass. He landed on his feet, sat down on his rump and just looked at us. We were maybe five or six feet away from him. I guess he weighed thirty or forty pounds. And he still has Gerald’s hunt whip around his neck.
“’Well,’ Scott said, ‘Gerald can always get himself another whip!’ But then we figured we had to get it off him before he got himself tangled up some other way. I grabbed the cracker end which was maybe five or six feet away from him, but the handle was lying right beside his feet.
“I reached down beside him, picked up the handle, wiggled it a bit, and slipped it right over his head. I was standing right beside him the whole time, and he never moved. He just sat and looked at me as if to say, thank you.
“Scott and I moved away. I looked behind, and the cat was still sitting there. I really think he knew we were trying to help him.
“We later found out the snare was legal. The trapper had stapled it to a tree on the other side of the river where he had permission to trap. It was a three-inch-long staple, but the cat had pulled it out of the tree, jumped the river, and got the wire tangled up around another tree. He was probably struggling all night to free himself.
“It was a team effort. I never would have grabbed him if Gerald and Scott hadn’t had a hold of his head. Man, he had a big mouth!”
Posted August August 21, 2011
Whipper-in Dr. Scott Dove, MFH / Karen L. Myers photo