The race is on

The alarm clock went off at 4 a.m. and startled me from my dreams. I sat up on the edge of the bed, bleary eyed, and looked out the window. The full moon was very bright, and it illuminated the backyard in a soft blue light. Three deer were grazing in the wintertime weeds that take over our lawn between the garden and our shed.

I got up and pulled on my clothes. When I looked back outside, the deer were gone. They are safe here, but I was headed to the Lowcountry to get after some of their kin.

The streets are nearly deserted at this hour of the morning, and it seems almost absurd to stop at the red lights when there is no other traffic. Outside the city I took the open road to Summerton to pick up my son Clayton. He was ready when I got there, and we took the interstate south to the Edisto.

We had marveled at the full moon and the star-studded sky on the long ride south but noticed the dark clouds that rolled in and covered the moon just before we got to the club.

The season is winding down, and we were surprised to see so many trucks at the clubhouse. The hounds were being loaded and were barking with excitement over the hunt to come. Inside the big clubhouse was a crowd of eager hunters.

We signed in with the huntmaster, and I heard him tell someone that we had 21 standers. I don't know how many dog packs were there, but there were many. We gathered outside, and the club president gave a safety meeting, followed by a prayer from the club patriarch Marion Ruple. Mister Ruple is 94 years old and makes nearly every hunt.

The standers drew numbers and loaded onto trucks that would take them out to their stands. I carried five standers to Ridge Road and dropped them off at the numbered tower stands they had drawn. I took the last stand before Middle Road. The dog handlers were assigned release sites, and they moved into position after the standers were in place.

It was good daylight when the hunt got underway. Heavy, dark clouds scudded across the sky from the west, and a stiff cold wind blew through the pines. It was much colder than I had anticipated. I could see blue sky on the northern horizon.

I could also hear a big pack of hounds coming our way from the Middle Road, but they turned into the wind and headed west. When they were nearly out of my hearing a single shot rang out ahead of the pack in the Upper Swamp. Another big pack of hounds started up near the Middle Road, and they also turned to the west. I remember thinking "the race is on, again."

The dark clouds had moved over, and some shafts of sunlight were slanting through the pines behind me. The wind changed direction from the west to the south and seemed to get stronger. It was harder to hear the dogs running out in the hunt in front of me. I heard another shot in the west but couldn't hear any dogs in that direction.

It seemed much colder now, and I moved up and down the road a little - trying to stay in the patches of sunlight streaming through the tall pines behind me. The sunlight didn't help much, and it seemed like the wind was blowing straight off the side of an iceberg. I had another coat in the truck, but I was too hard-headed to put it on. I had offered the coat to Clayton, back at the clubhouse, but I think he thought that I would need it more than he would.

I could hear dogs now heading to the upper end of Ridge Road, straight to the south. They were packing together, and it was a good race. A shot sounded out there, but the dogs went on - into the Ridge Club. They headed straight to the river and were soon out of my hearing.

There was a quiet now that was broken only by the wind in the pineland, and I knew that the hunt would be called off soon. The drivers would need to collect their hounds, and the standers would head back to the clubhouse to get ready for another hunt and another race.

Reach Dan Geddings at cdgeddings@gmail.com.