A Reluctant Hunter And An Eager Beagle Track A Rabbit Together

I didn't tell my father or Uncle Bert that I had fired only when the rabbit was gone from sight and there was no chance of killing it. If at that moment in the woods I realized that hunting wasn't my sport, I also worried that this might be considered a weakness.

But what about the beagle? He had run all day and now he couldn't walk. He had performed just as generations of breeding and hours of training would have it, and then some kid, acting more from sentiment than conviction, betrayed the ritual of the hunt, probably the dog's last.

About two months later the dog died, and Uncle Bert confirmed that he hadn't taken him hunting again. Even now I feel a touch of guilt whenever I see a beagle trotting along a dirt road, head down and sorting through the scents for one worth chasing.