By Jenn Jensen
It was September 6, 2020 on a hot South Carolina evening when I dropped the tailgate and my hounds jumped into the thicket in search of deer. I will never forget it. It was the first day that I hunted with a pack of hounds. Not just any pack of hounds. It was my pack of hounds. It was a crazy dream that I had a few years ago that seemed far- fetched at the time when I lived in Maryland.
You see, not many people up north hunt big game with hounds. At the time that this implausible idea came into my mind, I was a member of a historical foxhunting club where we hunt fox with hounds on horseback. It is more of a social event than anything else. The context of this “social event”, meaning who has the most money to show off, and what drama could be discussed that day. I was there to gallop the countryside and watch the hound’s work. I’ve always loved dogs, horses, and nature. It was the perfect way to enjoy the day or so I thought. But after realizing it was mostly drama with the hunt club, I started to think of ways to have my own pack. But it just was not possible. Not then or there at least.
In the fall of 2019, I was hanging around my farm one evening in Maryland enjoying a few margaritas. Tequila makes everything better! I needed an adventure to take my mind off of the divorce I was going through. I felt lost, alone, and taken advantage of by someone I once thought was my best friend. I had the great idea of booking a guided hog hunt in South Carolina. I didn’t have a hunting license. I had never been on a hunt before and didn’t even know you needed a license to hunt. I did not come from a hunting family. I would not even say that we were much of an outdoorsman. Thankfully I was advised by a friend that I needed a license to hunt. That friend ended up becoming my first hunting mentor. The poor guy didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he reached out to offer me some tips on shooting my bow.
When I arrived at the outfitter for my first hunting experience, I found out that you can actually hunt wild hogs with dogs. I envisioned a still hunt but I knew that I had to do this with hounds. I drove an hour and a half to the nearest Walmart and purchased a knife and a headlamp. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was not going to let the boys at camp think I was a beginner. I was ready to stick a pig! A few days later I found myself in the South Carolina swamp. We were off and running trudging through the swamp, hot on the trail of a wild hog. The hounds had the hog at bey in the middle of the deep water. My guide and the owner of the operation stood on the bank discussing who was going in the swamp to get my hog. I pushed them out of the way saying, “Stop being a bunch of Pussyfoots and get out of my way!” My primal instincts took control. I grabbed the hog by the back leg and flung it on the bank. Before I knew it, I was on my knees holding a bloody knife and covered in mud. The wild hog lay lifeless on the bank. That sealed the deal. Hunting was officially a permanent part of my life. So was my obsession of hunting with hounds. No experience in my life could compare to that moment. I used my bare hands to harvest an animal that would provide me with food for many months to come. I could survive on my own and knew at that moment I need only depend on my own abilities. I was not lost any longer. I had found my confidence, my passion, my drive. That day, I found myself.
When the pandemic hit, it temporarily shut down my business. I decided to move to my vacation house in South Carolina indefinitely. Hunting was completely different in South Carolina than my home state of Maryland. I quickly came to find that you could also hunt deer with hounds. Of course, I had to put together my own pack! I found 6 hounds through friends as well as through the Internet. To an experienced houndsman, they might not have been the best hounds. But these hounds were all mine and that’s all that mattered.
I hunted with my pack every Friday and Saturday at the hunt club during deer season. Each day I would study the other houndsman at the club and tried to absorb all that I could. I would observe what they would do in the kennels and in the field. I wanted to be the best houndsman that I could be. Not for fame, but for my hounds. I wasn’t alone anymore. It was me and my hounds! I was lucky enough to shoot my first buck ever in front of my hounds a few months into the season. The buck ran right to me in a cutover with the hounds singing closely behind him. The Buck, Goofy as I named him, was introduced to my Stoeger shotgun. It was a beautiful shoulder shot. He ran for about a quarter mile on a broken shoulder before he went down. I heard a voice come over the CB Radio that said they found my buck in a pond. My hounds right there with their quarry! I was ecstatic! My first buck! I jumped in my truck to get to the other side of the block driving like I was in Dukes of Hazzard. He was an asymmetrical four point and a trophy to me. That experience still brings tears to my eyes. It is a memory that is etched into my memory forever. I had reached a new milestone, proving to myself that I can stand on my own two feet. I was filled with strength and confidence once again.
It has only been a year since I became a full-time resident of South Carolina, I have been embraced by the outdoor community and have forged many new friendships. I learn from all of them on every outing. They are my friends, my mentors. Some of my new found friends come from a long line of houndsman. I am blessed that they share their knowledge and experience that has been passed down to them from father to son/daughter and now friend to friend. These days I hunt every season with my hounds for deer, small game, and hogs. I have added more kennels to my farm and put together a pack of hounds for each quarry. Hunting hogs is my favorite game. But anytime I can hear those hounds sing, it gives me goosebumps. It makes me feel alive.