Old-fashioned coon-hunters with old-timey lanterns. |
(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 “Coon hunting offered many hours
of entertainment” was originally published in the Nov. 9, 1995 edition of The
Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
I will always say that anyone who didn’t grow up in the
country during the last days of the Great Depression missed a great deal in
life. It’s true that our youth of today have many ways that they entertain
themselves. Recalling my early youth brings to mind what I believe our youth of
today are missing. I know of nothing more enjoyable than the youth of community
where I grew up together for a late autumn coon hunt.
Just a few weeks back, my high-school graduating class got
together for a reunion. Much time was spent reliving the past good times and
recalling the many wonderful memories – most especially during the months of
late autumn when the light of a pale harvest moon floated across the chilly
evening skies and the sound of the hunter’s horn gave a note that a coon hunt
was about to begin. These memories were relived time and time again as we
gathered for an evening of fun, togetherness and remembering old times.
Good hunting dogs
There was a time when great emphasis was placed on someone
who could boast of having a pack of good coon-hunting dogs. I know that the
proper word is raccoon, but country boys weren’t known too much for their proper
use of the English language. I can’t imagine what would have happened if
someone had mentioned that they were going raccoon hunting.
Yes, sir, a good pack of coon dogs was like having money in
the bank. The owner of such a pack of dogs was one of the most popular men in
the community during the coon-hunting season.
There were several types of coon hunts conducted in the local
communities. There were the real serious type of coon hunts, when only the dyed-in-the-wool
coon hunters took part. These hunts were for those who pitted their best coon
dogs against all comers to see which dog would tree that sly old coon in the
shortest amount of time.
On these hunts, there was no laughter or unnecessary
talking. If anything was said, it was to identify a favorite dog by the sound
of its barking. Only rarely did you find a teenager on one of these hunts. If a
dog was ever known to lie about a coon being up a tree, that name stuck for the
remainder of the dog’s life. The owner of a dog that would lie was kinda looked
down on by the serious-minded coon hunters. But, one in a while, the truth
would be stretched just a little.
Not-too-serious hunts
Then, there were those not-too-serious coon hunts. This was
when almost anybody could go along. On these hunts, you could talk or laugh and
maybe joke a little with other members of the hunt. The dogs that were used on
these hunts were dogs of the less-serious breed. If a dog lied about a coon up
a tree, it wasn’t a life-or-death matter. These hunts consisted of mostly the
over-the-hill hunters – those who had passed before the more serious decisions
of living and breathing the art of coon hunting.
And, last, there were those who went coon hunting for no
other reason than to have a good time. These consisted of certain groups, such
as Training Union classes, Sunday School classes, or just the local teenagers
who had nothing better to do. These groups were always chaperoned by two or
three older couples who saw that the proper conduct was maintained between the
young boys and girls on the hunt.
It really didn’t matter a lot whether the coon dogs that
were carried on these hunts knew the difference between a coon or a house cat.
Refreshments were always carried, and time was taken out to build up a fire and
make coffee or hot chocolate. There were always tea cakes or popcorn balls, or
perhaps a large amount of roasted peanuts or pecans. More attention was given
to helping the young ladies across the small streams than worrying about
whether the dogs were going to tree a large, fat coon.
Eagle-eyed chaperones
During one of these crossings, a beautiful smile or a tight
hand squeeze was worth all the coons that could have been caught out of the
woods. Once in a great while, when the chaperones might have lost their way a
bit, the young men would try and seek out a place where the stream would be too
wide to step across, and on rare occasions, the young men would be allowed to
pick up the beautiful young things and carry them in their arms across the
stream. These crossings were supervised very strictly by the eagle-eyed
chaperones.
The coal-oil lanterns were turned to their highest
brightness, and the eyes of the chaperones glowed in the lantern light as these
crossings were encountered.
I wasn’t too eager to find these crossings like the other
boys. Being one of the larger boys in the group, it fell to my lot to have to
carry across the stream a young lady who was quite large in size. This hefty
young lady was always present on these get-togethers. While crossing the
stream, I would get all kinds of squeezes and pats on the back, because it took
some kind of holding on to get that large young lady across the smallest stream.
The other boys would lie and say that they couldn’t carry
that much weight. I was always called on to carry the burden. But, all was not
in vain; this young lady always brought a sack full of goodies to eat with her
on the hunts. She always saw that I got my pick of whatever there was to eat
that her mother had prepared for her to bring along.
Coons didn’t suffer
I can tell you for sure, the coon population didn’t suffer
any from these hunts. The noise that accompanied this group would have scared
the living daylights out of almost any animal within hearing distance. And,
too, the coon dogs didn’t seem to want to get too far away from the group; they
were afraid that they might miss the discarded food scraps at refreshment time.
Besides, who wanted to hunt a silly old coon on a full stomach?
When the large fires were built and the snacks and
refreshments were brought forth, no one ever had to guess where the hunting dogs
were. They were always there, waiting for a handout.
In looking back, I feel a certain amount of sorrow for our
youth of today. Little do they know what they have missed. Never will they
witness the many good times the youth of our era enjoyed. We might not have had
it all, but we had the most.
Under the watchful eagle eyes of our chaperons, we knew that
our well-being was foremost. Their love and patience will dwell always in the
memories of yesterday. Even today, when on occasion I come in contact with some
of those who chaperoned these groups of my time, I see the twinkle of their
eyes and smiles come to their faces as they, too, remember the good times of
the past.
Always, if time permits, I am asked if I recall being
selected to carry a certain young lady across the creek – a certain young lady
who had become known to the others of the group as Fat Sally.
(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, graduated from Sweet Water High School, served in
the Korean War, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County
in June 1964 (some sources say 1961) and served as the administrator of the
Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to 1987. For years, Singleton’s
column “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. Some of his earlier columns also appeared under the heading of
“Monroe County History: Did You Know?” 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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