Blueberry
UKC Forum Member
Registered: Dec 2004
Location: High Deserts of Western Utah!!
Posts: 698 |
another fun story....
THE COON HUNTERS by CONNIE BAISDEN BARKER
The West Virginia mountains of Appalachia are so close to each other that the country around and in between is almost inaccessible.
During the time this story took place, a dirt road wound through the lower slopes and the trails into the mountains were little more than cow paths. Trace Creek flowed gently and avidly, cutting a deep gash through the mountains, and the bottomlands were black and fertile on either side.
Julius was about 14 years-old and his brother, Boots, was a little younger. During 1936, when the Great Depression was raging, the boys were lean from working the farm and most of the time ran barefoot through the mountains wearing faded blue bib overalls. They hadn’t traveled farther than Williamson, the county seat of Mingo, in their entire lives and even though they enjoyed sitting in front of the old radio in the evening and listening to programs like The Shadow, their first love was coon hunting.
Mist and wood smoke hovered just above the thick stand of beech and sycamore trees that bordered the cornfield, and the gold, rust, and flame-red shades of the autumn night reflected in the moonlit ribbon of the meandering creek. Music to the boys’ ears was the sound of their coonhounds and they spent many a night out in the forests with their three dogs. When Fred, their favorite redbone, treed a coon or possum, his voice echoed across the mountains. It reverberated through the foothills, louder than any other dog’s in the whole countryside.
Another one of their dogs, Patty, was a mixture of redbone and bulldog. Her ears, nose and color were those of a redbone, however, her great square jaws, muscular neck and broad chest showed her bulldog blood.
One autumn night, away the two boys went with their three hounds to hunt coons. At the start, Julius thought about loading his father’s gun that he carried, rather than doing it later, but decided to leave the chamber empty.
The lads hiked down the dirt road to a point where they decided to enter the woods; the dogs took one sniff, picked up a scent and bayed. They followed the hounds through the woods to a massive hickory tree where the redbone coonhound sat panting, slobbering and smiling up at the limbs of the standing timber. The drool of high hopes dripped from his jowls. Not much more than a pup, the hound proved himself a great coon dog just like his mother.
The boys caught a glimpse of the raccoon, and it looked to be a granddaddy; maybe the largest ever seen in those parts. It was practically the size of a coon dog and it was the kind of critter men talked about for years to come.
“Too bad Fred can’t climb a tree,” Boots said sharply, sitting wearily on a stump. Julius exclaimed, “I know that critter’s up there, I seem him and we’re going to get him out of that tree.”
“I’m hungry,” Boots said as he leaned against a tree and crossed his arms. “Real hungry.” “Then go home,” Julius snapped at his brother. “If you can’t think of a way to get that coon out of that tree, just go and get on out of here.” There was silence for a few minutes as the boys tried to think of a way to get it down.
Rex, Boot’s bluetick, had given up entirely. He wasn’t much of a hunting dog anyway. All night he had trotted along behind Fred, howling because Fred howled, sniffed where Fred sniffed, and finally stopped at the base of the hickory tree, because Fred had stopped there. He scratched his ear and then flopped down on the ground.
Boots shined a light up into the gnarled limbs and down the trunk of the tree to reveal a hole hidden in the center, impossible to see unless the light was just right.
“Look underneath the right limb!” Boots hollered. The boys jumped up and danced a little jig at the foot of the large hickory tree. “We got him now!” Julius whooped and thumped Boots on the back.
“But we ain’t got him either,” Boots gasped, the grin fading from his face. “That hole’s ten feet up in the tree. Ain’t no branches low enough or I’d climb it.”
Julius pushed back his hat and scratched his head. At last, his face lit up. “Let’s just cut it down!” he shouted.
The boys chopped the tree with an ax, and although it took quiet a while, the tree came tumbling down. Surprisingly, the tree was hollow and what came out of the hole shocked and frightened them.
A shaggy coated black bear sit there, blinking its small brown sleepy eyes in its broad head, and just stared at them for several minutes. The creature turned its short, thick neck and pointed its muzzle towards the boys, and sniffed.
Julius remembered the gun he was carrying. He shouldered it and began to squeeze the trigger. All of a sudden, the hammer closed and there was a loud click. He realized then he hadn’t loaded the gun. The bear turned, looked, and began to move towards them at a clumsy gait. The beast stood up on its hind legs and extended its massive claws, striking out towards the lads.
“Oh, my God,” they shouted. At that moment, the boys looked at each other and screamed, “ Run!” Julius ran so fast through the woods that the trees were nothing more than a blur. Looking back, he couldn’t see Boots anywhere, and the dogs had vanished. Just as soon as he saw the bear wasn’t following, he came out of the forest onto the road. He was running so fast that it took him the entire roadway to stop.
Sweating and gasping for air, he wondered aloud, “What’s happened to Boots?” He just knew that his brother had been a good meal for the two hundred pound bear. His eyes were full of tears by the time he reached the farmhouse. How was he going to tell his daddy that he had forgotten to load his gun and run off and left his only brother to be eaten alive by a bear?
Soon as he got to the house, he discovered the door locked, which was unusual. While sniffing and wiping the sweat and tears from his eyes, he knocked softy. His brother was dead, and he didn’t know what to say. Slowly the door creaked open and there stood his brother. “What are you looking at? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! What took you so long getting here, anyway?” Boots bellowed.
With a surprised look on his face, Julius asked, “How’d you get here so fast?” Boots pointed out, “Well, I reckon I just ambled along with the dogs! That’s how!”
Since the bear hadn’t, Julius felt like killing his brother. Instead, he grabbed him, hugged him around the neck, and the boys fell on the ground laughing. The bear tale would be told many times over.
The hickory trees will forever look down on a light in the cool autumn forest in southern West Virginia. Each year a harvest moon will continue to cast shadows on two boys bounding after their coonhounds and the quiet of the night filled with the deep voices of their hounds.
__________________
Matthew Barton
Home of Oquirrh Mtn. Kennels
PR' Willow Creek Will's Miss Molly
PR' Oquirrh Mountain Blue Belle
Two steps forward, one step back.
Least yu'r still movin'.
Report this post to a moderator | IP: Logged
|
11-24-2005 05:22 AM
