The first dog we saw as we pulled into Saluda was a bloodhound. James Thurber once wrote that he supposed there were a lot of bloodhounds in heaven, and for people who like hounds, Saluda, NC, was a bit of heaven on Saturday.

The main street was lined with people staking out places for the parade and, along the railroad tracks, brightly-lit stands selling sausages, funnel cakes, cotton candy. I didn't see any hot dogs though a dachshund scampered up the street wearing two cushions in the shape of bread rolls on its sides and a red squiggle on its back to resemble ketchup.

Up at the public library we bought a Coon Dog Festival T-shirt and then made our way down the main street. We passed a girl wearing a raccoon skin as a shawl and reenactors dressed in Confederate Army uniforms.

The coon dogs were out on the ball field, getting ready for their afternoon show. Owners - good ol boys - gruffly identified types for us: redbone, black and tan, English, bluetick, treeing walkers (which sounded to us like Korean walkers). One young man told us he had driven down from Johnstown, Pennsylvania, to show his redbone.

Every once in a while a hound would howl, and the others would join in - a lovely sound on a Carolina morning.

The parade, which began at 11, contained more politicians than dogs. Instead of howling, they passed out fans and leaflets. They were followed by jalopies in a hillbilly theme, and the men driving them looked the part without, I think, appearing in costume. For people from the land of glitz, and the state famous for fabricated fun, it was heartening to see something unpretentious and true.

Rain started falling shortly after the parade, so we headed back to the car to start the long drive home. Taking the detour around the main street, we passed a young woman holding a bloodhound puppy for sale. Those long ears, those folds of skin, that wrinkled brow - it took a lot of effort not to stop.

Photo by Graham Donley.