Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Whose Dog Was It ?
Its been said by some, "Coon hunting's a sport" like few others to men of the South.
Dad fit right in with that saying, he loved to scour the hills and bottom lands near our home, for good places to hunt.
He carried himself a kerosene lantern to light the way thru the woods.
A flashlight in his pocket to spot a coon when the dogs treed one .
Often... when he'd take a coon... the hide would get displayed on the side of the smokehouse for awhile.
And eating the meat from the coon became a novelty ;since coons were scarce and so was food during the depression.
Occasionally a neighbor would go along for the hunt , and bragging rights were sure to get started when that happened.
Of whose dog ,would tree the first coon, or who's dog was the most disciplined ,as to what they would chase.
Once I remember the dogs treeing something in a hollow tree.
We couldn't tell what it was , so we chopped the tree down .
You never heard such bragging going on as to whose dog actually led the pack in treeing the coon.
When the chopped down tree yielded its secret and we found out what was inside, it turned out to be a red fox.
That ended all the bragging rights of whose dog was the most disciplined coon dog, since all their dogs had suddenly became fox hounds.
Everyone was stumped as to what to call them after that.
Whose dog was it that converted the coonhounds into foxhounds, is still an unsolved mystery, as far as I know
Our family lived about as far back in the hills as you could go ,and our lives reflected that way of life in many ways.
To a lot of people; the sport of coon hunting might be offensive and a boring thing to do.
But for dad and the neighbors who went with him, it was "A way of life", like no other".
Hearing their dogs bark with excitement in a coon case, or maybe a fox chase, was sweet music to the ear, a sound, some people say Southern men, still hold dear to their hearts even today.
Until Next Time. God Bless.
My Meditation by, Coleman