Not the ones that were chased last night – Photo: L. Weikel
Neighborly Collaboration
During our walk yesterday, Karl and I had a chance to engage in some neighborly collaboration. Actually, we ended up working like a well-oiled machine. We impressed ourselves.
It all began when a large pick-up truck approached us just as we were setting off on our late afternoon sojourn. The truck, headlights inexplicably on high beam, slowed significantly as it pulled up next to us. The passenger side window was already rolled down and a young boy of about 8 years old looked out at us. A girl of about 13, presumably the boy’s older sister, was in the back seat, with her window rolled down about halfway.
“Have you heard any dogs in the last few minutes?” the driver asked, leaning toward us from the driver’s side.
“Other than the wolfhounds?” I laughed, gesturing ahead of us. We could all hear the wolfhounds barking and baying only yards away where we were now.
“Yeah – no,” he replied. “Beagles. We have two Beagle pups who took off. We’ve been searching for them for a couple hours now.”
Ugh. How awful. We cringed at the thought of losing Brutie and Pacha.
Contingency Plan
While we hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary or noticed any ‘loose pups’ on the prowl (so far), I wrote down the dad’s phone number just in case.
To be honest, we almost forgot about the loose puppies. We saw and, more importantly, heard no evidence of any Beagles. Pushing forward, turning right, up a big hill, we walked at least a mile before a herd of deer suddenly started tearing across a field to our right. We stopped. Cocked our heads. “BOW, bow, bow,” the plaintive cry of a Beagle, albeit muffled by the clatter of hooves tearing up clods of dirt, could be heard.
We strained to see what was going on, where the deer were headed. The deer were clearly confused and in disarray, running this way and that. We worried the pup would cross the road in front of us and herd the deer – and him or herself – right off the High Rock cliffs to our left, plunging them into the Tohickon.
Meanwhile, I fumbled to call the pup’s “Dad” to let him know at least one was here. I’d written his number down on the notepad of my phone – not input it directly into my phone. (I really didn’t think we’d encounter the pups. Just goes to show you!) I eventually managed to get through and described where we were. He said he’d come as fast as he could.
The Hunt
No sooner did I hang up but the deer and dog disappeared into a forest in the far distance to our right, across a golden field. In what seemed like an eternity but was probably only five minutes or so, if that, the dad and kids showed him up. As they pulled up alongside of us, we could see (and hear) a beagle in the back seat bouncing around with the sister.
“Did you find one of them already?” Karl asked.
“Yup. This other one has been a devil to catch,” the Dad tried to grin, referring to the Deer Chaser still on the loose.
“Well, he took off that way,” and I pointed ahead and across a vast field.
After saying thanks again, they drove ahead, chasing the elusive Spade. Or was it Rip?
We ended up texting back and forth over a span of an additional 10 or 15 minutes, as the little devil tore back and forth over a span of probably six or eight vast fields and tracts of woods. We co-located them using the home of the wolfhounds as a reference point, for they were directly northwest of us ‘as the crow flies.’
Yep. I literally used that expression when texting the dad.
Success!
By this time, the sun had completely set and it was nearly dark. The pick-up truck doubled back and rolled down their windows.
“Got ‘em! Thanks so much for all your help!”
Karl and I cheered. It felt great to help a neighbor out. We were sure they’d have a better night now that their pups had been found. Neighborly collaboration. Guess we’re seeing that both locally and globally.
(T+85)
