Singleton tells of 'ancient Indian village site' near Nancy Mountain

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 “Take time to observe Mother Nature’s busiest creatures” was originally published in the Jan. 18, 1996 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Tuesday afternoon, Jan. 9, was one of those days. Although the air was quite chilly, I couldn’t resist getting out a warm coat and firing up my iron horse and slipping away for a few hours of fun and relaxation.

As usual, I didn’t really know just where I was going until I crossed Flat Creek bridge up Highway 41. Here, I decided to visit along the river near the ferry at Haines Island. It seemed a good afternoon for a jaunt in the woods nearby, so I turned left and headed in the direction of Nancy Mountain.

As I crossed the top of my favorite hill, I slowly descended the winding narrow road that led to the river. Traveling along the road that runs parallel with the river, I decided to take a walk up along the side of the hill over to my left.

I have been up in this area many, many times during the past years. Never have I walked the hiking trails that I didn’t see something of great interest. I felt sure that, as before, I would not be disappointed.

After securing my transportation out of sight, I started around the southern end of the hill. I had planned to walk around the base of the hill, through an ancient Indian village site. Perhaps I might find something that I had overlooked during my past visits.

Just as I was about to move away from the lower edge of the huge pond, I heard a loud splash in the water near me. Thinking that it might be the huge alligator I had seen in the pond several times before, I eased myself down in a secure place where I could view the goings on without being seen.

But what I was seeing was not an alligator. Swimming along the bank was one of the largest beavers I had ever seen. Somewhat disappointed, I decided I would watch the beaver for a short while before moving on and around the bottom of the hill. Little did I know that I was about to be entertained in grand style for the next two hours.

The huge beaver came within 20 feet of where I was hiding. Here, he proceeded to try and drag a large sapling he had chewed down at an earlier time out into the pond. Time and time again, he tried without success to pull the small tree into the waters of the pond.

After each try, the large beaver would move along and closely inspect the downed sapling. Then he would try again to pull it into the water. This went on for about 20 minutes. I was so sure that he would give up that I wasn’t disappointed when he swam out into the pond and disappeared.

Two large beavers

As I was about to leave my hiding place and move up the trail, I was surprised to look out and see not one but two large beavers swimming toward the fallen sapling. As I watched in amazement, the two beavers closely examined the small tree. The large beaver closely inspected the tree, as though giving orders to the smaller one, which had tried unsuccessfully to move it earlier.

Then, both of the beavers began to chew and trim the small branches from the sapling. After they were finished, the larger beaver once again closely looked up and down the small tree. Seemingly satisfied that the small tree was ready to move, both beavers caught hold of the sapling with their teeth and tried to move it into the water.

The sapling would not move from the muddy bank. The larger beaver once again inspected the small tree. Then, moving down the small tree a distance of about five feet, he proceeded to cut the mall tree in two pieces with his teeth.

When he was about half way through the tree, the larger beaver stopped chewing the tree and moved aside. As if instructed by the larger beaver, the smaller one came over and began to finish the task the other had started.

As the small sapling fell apart in two pieces, the two beavers paused for a couple or three minutes, as though resting from cutting the tree. Then both locked on the larger piece of sapling and pulled it out into the water.

Prearranged signal

Leaving the larger piece to float in the pond, the two beavers returned to the bank and began to move the small part into the water. Then as if by some sort of prearranged signal, the larger beaver caught hold of the longer piece of sampling and began to swim out into the pond and out of sight.

Following close behind with the smaller part of the sapling, the smaller beaver also disappeared out of sight behind some underbrush growing there in the shallow waters of the pond.

Totally amazed by what I had seen, I slowly got to my feet and was about to finish my walk around the bottom of the hill. Looking at my watch, I knew that I would not have time to walk the large circular trail around the base of the hill. I had spent most of the afternoon watching the hard-working beavers, and the time had slipped by without me being aware of its passing.

Returning to where I had hidden my trail bike, I hurriedly put on my coat and started back along the road there by the river. As I began to pick up speed, I looked up there by the road about 50 yards to see one of the largest buck deer that I have ever seen standing there in the road. Quickly, I cut the engine and came to a stop. The large buck seemed in no hurry to move on, so we looked each other over for a period of about three minutes.

Buck disappeared

Knowing that I had to be on my way, I touched the starter of my motorcycle, and the engine sprang to life. The large buck turned and raced up the dirt road. Moments later, he disappeared around the curve and out into the dense woods near the boat landing.

Reaching the top of Nancy Mountain, I stopped for a moment, hoping to see if my buddy, the huge golden eagle, might be sailing in the air currents out over the vast valley below. But my friend was not to be seen.

The skies were clear and the chilly winds of the late evening sighed through the tall pines there on the mountain. Perhaps, he had been here earlier. Maybe next time he would be here riding the winds.

Looking across the narrow road and up the faint trail that leads into the deep woods, I wondered if perhaps the ghost of Aunt Nancy had started her evening walk along the faith path that leads across the hill to the old homeplace and then down the steep hill to the banks of the mighty river.

(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, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, 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 also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. 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.)