The hare, startled from his indolence, has also heard her bellow and he flees immediately, certain he will be discovered, expecting to be followed. I run quietly, for fear that he may hear me coming, and that he may veer off in another direction. A few minutes have passed and by now Chloé has found fresher scent. She knows, somehow, that the hare is up and running in my direction. Her bays are now shorter and higher pitched and she increases the tempo. Going up the steep hill, I try not to breathe too heavily and I keep my eyes focused in his direction. I strain to hear or see him and hope I will be able to stop before it is too late. The trick, you see, is to get as close as possible and then remain completely still before he suspects that I am there, stalking him.
I get there a split second too late! The hare has just gone by. I was only able to catch a glimpse of him, crossing the path so swiftly that he seemed to fly over it; much like a flat rock is made to skip over water. Never mind, I will see him again later and perhaps, next time, I will get a chance for a good shot. I move closer to the spot, as I expect Chloé will be right on the track. She is not far behind, and although her frequent bays have settled to a steady rhythm, I can detect the excitement in her intonation. In a way, I feel sorry for her. She tries so hard! She is so sure that she can catch him! Little does she know she does not stand a chance! The chase moves quickly now through some brushy area near the path and up a small side hill to continue in the mature woods above. The running is easier there, as the forest is open and carpeted with moss. At first, the hare bolts ahead in a straight line and runs swiftly for a few minutes. He then stops and changes direction quite abruptly, trying to shake the dog off his trail. Satisfied that he is well ahead, he finally slows down and from a vantage point awaits at a distance the outcome of his maneuver.
He listens for a while as the dog below tries desperately to decipher his trail. A sudden change of direction is not easy to figure out. Chloé, of course, overshoots the line and continues some distance ahead. She turns to the left after losing the scent, and tries to reconnect without success. Nose to the ground, she then circles back to the line, towards the point of loss, follows it a short distance and this time, veers correctly to the right to recapture the track. As she announces her success, the hare understands that on this day, he is not dealing with one of the pups that, just last week, he had tricked so easily. This is a more serious matter. He will have to try something a little more devious and complicated to elude the annoying intruder.
He crosses the path some distance ahead, unseen, as I try desperately to catch my breath and to run as quietly as possible. I finally get there, huffing and puffing, and I wait patiently, unaware that he has already passed by. The chase gets closer and closer, and Chloé is now coming in my direction. My heart is pounding and my hands shaking with anticipation. I think I know exactly where the hare will cross and I prepare for the shot. Sure enough Chloé is almost in view and I expect the hare will appear at any moment now. The sound is almost deafening as she approaches, baying happily and she rushes by me, head high and at full speed. No hare! I missed again. I am disappointed. I do not want to come back home without anything to show for my efforts.
By now the hare is far ahead and trying to gain enough time to confound his tracks. He knows the game and is not too worried. He tries a series of small circles of 200 yards or so and uses more or less the same pathways to lull the dog into a dull routine, always crossing the road at the same place. His scent is still fresh and still strong there from the last passage. After the third circle, the dog, mesmerized into a state of complacency, is confident that this is the correct path and that the hare is just ahead. But the hare has other plans this time! Instead of continuing in a straight line to the other side, he turns abruptly and runs gingerly downhill on a compacted rut. Ruts hold almost no scent, especially when it is dry. After a hundred yards or so, he takes a huge leap to the side and disappears quietly into the grass.
The dog is unlikely to find him again. With all this scent, how could you possibly know where the new trail ends and where the hare has finally changed direction? Many will follow the scent for a few minutes until it starts fading into the air and they realize they have been duped. But where do you look now? The fresh track could be anywhere. Where was the point of loss? Many dogs are completely baffled by this stratagem. Not Chloé; Not on this day. She mistakenly follows the line to the other side, but soon suspects foul play, as she realizes that the scent now grows gradually fainter instead of stronger. She stops baying, declaring a loss. She leaves the track and turns back. She soon reconnects though and follows the rapidly deteriorating trail until she reaches the point where the scent is the strongest. She crosses again, but this time quickly realizes her mistake. By chance, she decides to return a few meters downhill. She is lucky enough to encounter a few molecules of scent where the hare had barely touched the ground. She builds on this clue and, tail wagging, follows the faint and ephemeral track silently to the end. She puzzles there for a while, not understanding why a trail could end this way. Finally, she catches a whiff of scent that lingers in the grass a little distance from the path.
By now though, the trail is cold, and the hare has gained a lot of distance on her. It is quite possible that the track has become too faint to claim. She advances slowly in the thick brush and stops under a tree to smell the ground more intently. It is good enough to claim and she sounds a loud and joyous bay. It expresses her satisfaction at having recovered the track. She moves ahead slowly, checking to make sure she is headed in the right direction and soon gains enough assurance to proclaim loudly that the chase is still on. She works her way quite meticulously into the brush, claiming at intervals until she reaches a small clearing. The hare had stopped there, unconcerned, certain of his superior abilities, listening intently for the sound of the horn that would recall the stupid hound, and allow him once again to bask undisturbed at his favorite spot in the sunshine, at peace once again.
It is not to be. After a long period of silence, when all he could hear was the distant sound of the bell hanging from the dog’s neck; he had settled and relaxed. But now the irritating clamor of the mad beast is once again troubling the peace and coming his way. He has to move again! This time he is quite annoyed. He is going to show that slow witted and malevolent animal who is the boss once and for all! He waits until Chloé is near. He is so confident that his speed and endurance will prevail, that he allows the dog to sight chase for a while, hoping she will lose her composure. Then, he literally disappears in a blur in front of her, dashing here and jolting there behind the trees. He leaves nothing behind but confusion. After a few seconds of fast and furious action, Chloé predictably loses contact, but she is smart and surprisingly sedate in her actions. She soon settles once again on the track and follows it steadfastly.
The hare now finds it comfortable to maintain a distance of about 2-3 minutes ahead of the dog, and stops at intervals, just to listen. She keeps up with him quite easily, as he is covering a lot of ground in a straight line, going to a far away cover. There, in the comparative security of dense brush, small thickets of evergreens, long grasses and a myriad of water puddles, the hare tries a few tricks for a while and then returns at full speed. He hopes that at that pace, little scent will be left behind, and the track will soon get so cold that it will be difficult to recover. He is quite sure that the dog will linger in the labyrinth of scent he left behind, take too long to solve the puzzle and declare defeat right there. But Chloé is persistent. She keeps her cool and maintains the line, favored by the fact that on this day, the temperature, the lack of wind and the rate of evaporation allows the scent to persist longer than usual.
Many chases will normally last from 40 to 50 minutes until the hare gets tired of this game and speeds ahead to take such a lead over the dog that his scent vanishes completely. Or he may cook up such a diabolical plan that only sheer luck will allow the dog to recover. On this day however, Chloé continues to have the upper hand. I have long given up trying to keep up with them and have determined that it is much wiser to stay put, wait patiently for the hare to return to his preferred territory and try to guess the spot at which he will appear in plain view. I hope that I will be close enough this time and fast enough to get a shot.
I am lucky today. Despite my efforts to listen and to watch for any sign of his approach, he appears suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere and stands there, right in front of me, ready to flee at any sign of movement. He is as surprised as I am and for a moment he does not dare to move. As I adjust my posture ever so slightly to get a better shot, he notices the movement and bolts right pass me with incredible celerity. But I have him in the open and he is mine. I press the record button and I shoot away. Got him! I am elated! Such good luck is rare. I hear Chloé in the distance, still on the track. I continue filming, knowing that she too will appear in front of me in a few minutes. As she does, I notice that the heat is getting to her and that she is getting a little tired. I know she will not quit. She never does. But it's her first hunt of the season and she is not yet in shape to hunt all day. It is just too hot!. I stop her on the track. I tell her how good she is and after a few moments, I draw a deep breath and blow a couple of long notes out of my horn. The hills echo my happiness as I announce that the chase has come to an end and that the hare is safe again, until another day. With my esteemed friend by my side, I return home, content. I have witnessed many such natural dramas that very few are privileged to see. I have thus acquired an immense respect for my dog and for her quarries and have fallen in love with the places in which they live. I am happy to live here in this beautiful country of ours, where one is still free to enjoy nature as one’s nature allows.
