My first wife came from a ranching family way back up in the hills of central California and had a cousin, Ted, who was a hounddog man. This made him akin to Evel Knievel with a pack of pooches.
I talked my way into hunting with him, of course.
All went well until we were on the way home, when a badger ran across the road and dove into a large culvert pipe.
"Oh wow!" Ted yelled. "Let's get him!"
He released most of the hounds and they plugged the culvert pipe with bawling insults. In the dead center of the pipe was a snarling badger.