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| The red fox is usually the main quarry in Alabama fox hunts. |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Recalling the fox hunt” was originally
published in the Nov. 20, 2003 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville,
Ala.)
There was a time, not too long ago, that this time of year
was the beginning of the fox hunters season.
The full moon and cool winds that give a slight chill to the
early autumn evenings would give warning to the sly old fox that the hunters’
moon now hung in the heavens.
But the time of the old fox hunters, as some of us once knew
them, has slowly slipped from the scene. The nights of the chases across open
pastures and across the freshly harvested fields and the fireside gatherings
had almost disappeared.
No more do the night winds of autumn carry the laughter of
the fox hunters as they gather together for a hunt and the many stories of the
great fox hounds that used to be. Such names like Danny Boy, Old Bottom, Dixie
Darling and many more. This was truly a breed of special people; people who are
fast vanishing from the scene and from a special place within the countryside.
No more does the smell of wonderful hot coffee, brewed over
an open fire, ride the night winds of our autumn. And having a glorious full
moon overhead while feeling the warmth of an open campfire has almost been
forgotten.
What is the reason for the end of such a wonderful era? Why
has the beauty of the chase and the music of the faithful foxhounds, as they
trail the crafty old fox across the meadows, lost their calling? Is it the lack
of love for the outdoors? Has the boob tube captured all our interests? Have we
become so weak and lazy until we no longer have the strength to go forth on a
chilly autumn evening and be a part of the Creation?
Whatever the reason, a time in our history has almost
disappeared from among us that will never be recaptured again. The beauty and
the romance of the fox hunters’ moon will soon be no more. The campfire tales
have disappeared from the scenes, never to return. Those few of us who remember
has lost a beautiful portion of our lives.
What will we tell our children? Will they pass through life
without the pleasures of hearing the music of a pack of fox hounds as they give
chase to wise old gray fox?
How will they know the feeling and satisfaction of hearing
the tall tales of the fox hunters as they sat around the glowing fires? And, as
they sat there, listening to sounds of the chasing hounds, deep in their
hearts, each hoped that the hounds never caught up with the sly old fox.
Are we depriving the of knowing the love of an open campfire
under a full harvest moon? Truly, we should never let this happen. If our trend
of life continues on its present course, these wonderful times of our past will
just about disappear into the darkness of oblivion.
As Southerners, we are now at the time in history when we
desperately need some of the old forms of entertainment and some of the past
times of yesterday. I believe that we must have a knowledge of these if we are
to identify ourselves with our past.
Laugh if you must, but the time has come when we have
separated ourselves almost completely from our upbringing. We have become so
absorbed in our lives of fantasy, in a world of make believe, we have forgotten
what has made us great.
I know that many of you smile and many wonder just how,
perhaps foolish to some, this form of entertainment could be of value in today’s
way of life. But, today our world is a finer place to live because of the ways
of the generations before us. I do not wish to sound like the voice of doom,
but I think the time is at hand when we need to share all the knowledge and
no-how we can extract from our past, so our youth of today may live a sane and
more useful life into tomorrow.
This does not mean that one has to be a dyed-in-the-wool fox
hunter to survive the coming years. But, the peace and contentment of such a pastime
will be a great plus in the minds of our youth when facing the coming
tomorrows.
It seems that we try very hard to separate ourselves from
our history of the past. But, we should do whatever we can to pass our experiences,
both good and bad, to our youth of today. I have a saying that a person, a
family, a community or a nation does not know where they are going, unless they
know where they have been. This, I believe with all my heart.
Many of the problems of the day were talked about and
discussed around those evening campfires, and things looked much better with
the coming of the new day. I know that honor, respect and decency were common words
of the old fox hunters. These men put great faith in the words of others. Their
word was law, that’s all they had. This practice could be of great use in today’s
society.
Today, as we push deeper and deeper into the age of the computer,
we are less inclined to give much honor and respect to the word of our
neighbor. We turn to the machine for much of our thinking and advice. We cannot
see the rising of a glorious full moon on our computers or televisions; we
cannot sit in our dens and living rooms and feel the wonders of our
surroundings and know that somewhere up there a loving and caring God is watching.
We must be a part of our creation; we must smell the campfires
and taste the crisp evening air. And, as we feel the chill of the evening and
listen to the lullaby of the autumn winds across the hills, we will know that
our God is forever present, and all is well within our souls. And, as the fox hounds
race in the distance, you will know that peace of mind is at hand.
(Singleton, the author
of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of
79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances
Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in
Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a
U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand,
lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964
and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from
June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks
to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe
County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe
Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that
appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared
in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He is buried in Pineville
Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns
are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County
Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week
for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work
and memory alive.)
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