George Buster Singleton |
(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 “King of turkey hunting: Cousin
Jake was the best,” was originally published in the April 8, 1982 edition of
The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
There are people who strive for total perfection in their
chosen professions. There are those who, through some powers or happenings,
gain total perfection without really ever trying.
The art of turkey hunting is truly a sport that requires
total perfection if one is to be successful.
This is a story about a man I knew as I was growing up. He
was probably the most successful of all the turkey hunters in the area. If some
kind of record had been kept, he would probably have equaled the best in the
state and maybe the nation.
I will call this man Cousin Jake. This was not his full
name, of course, but a nickname that he gave himself. Everyone he saw, whether
he knew them or not, he called “cousin.” So after a while, the name “Cousin
Jake” was given to him by all who knew him for the rest of his life.
Heavy and hungry
Cousin Jake did not appear to be a man who was an expert in
anything. He was a large man, heavy set, and with an extra large stomach. This
was due largely to the never-ending hunger pains that he said he suffered from.
He wore no special or camouflage hunting clothing when he
hunted turkeys. His garb was always a pair of overalls with a jumper. He never
wore a shirt under the jumper or even an undershirt. Winter and summer, always,
overalls and a jumper and high-top brogans. He usually kept about a three-day
growth of whiskers. Three days without shaving for Cousin Jake equaled about 10
days for most men.
He also had the tobacco-chewing habit. He always had a
“chew” in his jaw unless he was doing what he loved most, trying to kill that
hunger pain that bothered him so much. He said chewing tobacco kept the
mosquitoes and bugs away. Once the tobacco got in your system, the bugs and
mosquitoes would not bother you, he said. And I believed that.
His turkey hunting equipment consisted of a small cow horn,
about three inches long, with a short piece of fat lightwood splinter in the
small end. He would rub the end of the lightwood with a short piece of slate.
This turkey caller seemed as old as Cousin Jake. This equipment was always kept
in the bib pocket of his overalls. Nothing else was kept there, not even his
chewing tobacco.
His gun was even older than his turkey caller. It was a
single-shot 12-guage. The stock had been reinforced by wrapping copper wire
around it just below the trigger guard. The ejector that was supposed to eject
the empty shells from the firing chamber had long since worn out. But this
didn’t bother Cousin Jake – he carried with him a piece of brass, just a little
smaller than the shells he used. After firing the 12-guage long tom he would
unbreech the gun and then drop the small piece of brass down the barrel.
This would knock the empty shell loose and it and the brass
would fall to the ground – but Cousin Jake had perfected the skill to the point
that he always caught the brass. This kept him from having to bend over and
pick it up.
Besides being a great turkey hunter, he was without a doubt,
one of the best mechanics around. He drove an old pickup truck that looked like
it would not go another mile. It looked like an accident waiting for a place to
happen. Each of the six sparkplugs had a “jump spark” on it. This was to keep
them from fouling, and delay the timing just a bit. No one knew for sure just
how Cousin Jake kept this truck going, but it always carried him wherever he
wanted to go.
Largest gobblers
Cousin Jake was not one to break the game laws. He always
said that if he couldn’t kill a turkey legally, he would not bother to kill one
at all. But he always managed to seek out the largest gobblers, always the ones
with the longest beards. He had dozens of turkey feet tacked to the wall inside
the hallway of his house. He always carried the longest beard of the year in
his jumper pocket to show around.
Cousin Jake won all of the turkey-calling contests. He would
pull the caller from the bib pocket of his overalls and after he was through
calling and yelping, there was no doubt who was the best. He would show off a
little by using his mouth or a fresh oak leaf from his overall pocket. Yes,
sir, Cousin Jake was the king; no one would argue that fact.
The sound of his old caller and the blast of his rickety old
shotgun is silent now. Cousin Jake was killed in a logging accident a few years
back. A kind of sadness lingers when the old turkey hunters around home gather
to swap their stories. But I know that somewhere up there Cousin Jake is
hunting turkeys, and if the Lord himself is around for just a moment, Cousin
Jake is calling him Cuz.
(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 on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County and served
as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to 1987.
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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