Post by jack hamilton on Jul 8, 2010 7:46:13 GMT -5
Stories from my 25 acres.
Houses in a Row all made of Ticky Tacky
I was nine years old, out hunting early one morning,
I was walking in a field full of big boulders,
it was Saturday and very cold I had my pellet gun under my arm
and my hands in my pockets.
As I stepped from one boulder to another my foot slipped and unable to get my hands out of my pockets quick enough to brace myself against the fall, I hit hard on one of the big rocks.
I was not hurt but was mad.
Getting up I kept on across the field of boulders,
going from one patch of woods to another.
At the rise in the field I looked out across the landscape and saw a view of my neighborhood.
The street going into my neighborhood
up the big hill past the small store.
And rows of houses, which looked warm to me,
no one was outside as it was pretty cold.
I stopped and just looked.
I looked around and became aware that I seemed to be the only person outside that cold Saturday morning.
All the other kids my age were as I imagined home in front of their television sets, warm not even dressed yet.
What was I doing out here in the cold with my knee hurting from falling on that d**n rock?
Then I realized what turned out to be an important lesson in my life. I looked down and saw that I was carrying a Benjamin pellet gun and had my knife in my pocket where it always was and in fact still is. I looked at the scene on the next ridge
with all the warm houses in rows,
and here I was out in the woods with my gun,
hunting and I had what can be described as a vision.
I saw myself as not one of the people in those houses
but different.
I was a hunter.
It must sound silly now but it was a profound and moving experience to me the cold Saturday that it happened.
J. Winters VonKnife
“ My Usual Saturday Night Mule Ride.”
Saturday night, the weeks work is done and it’s the weekend.
After a big dinner and a few beers, I am thinking a mule ride sounds good.
The weather is cool and I have some Scnapps,
so I go out and bring up old Red.
Red is my world famous perfectly trained coon hunting saddle mule.
I would jump on old Red right now,
and ride her up to Denver,
bareback and would not think anything of it.
I loved old Red and although most of my dogs were killed long ago by two cowards named hall, present address Huntsville Texas,
I still have Red the best mule anyone ever had.
I put Red’s bridle on and fill my flask and we are off.
A dark night, but cool.
The moon is just a sliver and the weather was nice,
not too hot and not too cold or windy. We rode out the gate,
locked it, and I jumped back on Red,
we were going on a mere 4 mile walk.
The usual walk I used as my run when I was trying to get in shape. Now however I was trying to get drunk,
so I thought Red would like to have a change of scenery.
We walked down Watermill road and past the two or three neighbors houses and were just bopping along.
I was holding my flask of Peppermint Schnapps in my right hand
and holding the reins with my left.
I was drinking a little Schnapps and enjoying the scenery.
As we were almost to the ninety-degree left turn we could see a cars lights were coming towards us from the opposite direction.
I held Red up and we stopped short of the turn so as to not be right in the turn when the car went around the corner.
Of course Reds ears shot forwards in an attentive poise, we were blinded by the lights,
but as the car was careful and driving slow we did not worry.
The car made the corner and stopped before the turn just like we did.
We stood stock still Red and I while the driver saw us and made the corner real slow and easy.
As the car was going around the corner and just as it was passing us.
I had my Scnapps in my right hand against my chest, and squinted my eyes against the light,
and to see some kind of writing that was on the side of the car.
Lets see… Sheriffs dept.
Hmmmm,
As Red’s ears which had been forwards to check out the car which was now even with us and no danger,
now went back signifying
{its ok.}
That’s what I was waiting for,
as I was watching Reds ears for my instructions,
when they turned back I said:
“well Red, you ready?”
And then let’s go!
Get!
And gave Red a little kick.
Red, who was in fact ready, immediately started again.
I looked over at the car and saw that it was a sheriffs car, so I saluted them with my flask and nodded and Red and I went on down the road.
The two sheriffs stood there,
still,
for as I thought an unusually long time.
Then they both burst out laughing!
And as Red and I walked off and they laughed till Red and I were way down the road over a hundred yards.
Just sitting there and laughing for the longest time!
Just sitting there in their Sheriffs car and laughing like two crazy men.
Till Red and I were clear out of hearing.
I said “Red did you hear that?”
but Red didn’t say anything.
J. Winters VonKnife
{Sandy’s asleep ya’ll}
o
“ My Usual Saturday Night Mule Ride.”
Saturday night, the weeks work is done and it’s the weekend.
After a big dinner and a few beers, I am thinking a mule ride sounds good.
The weather is cool and I have some Schnapps, so I 'go out and bring up' old Red.
Red is my world famous, perfectly trained, coon hunting saddle mule.
I would jump on old Red right now and ride her up to Denver bareback and would not think anything of it.
I loved old Red and although most of my dogs were killed long ago by two cowards named Hall,
present address Huntsville Texas, {prison}
I still have Red, the best mule anyone ever had.
I put Red’s bridle on and filled my flask and we were ready to go.
A dark night, but cool,
the moon is just a sliver and the weather was nice, not too hot and not too cold or windy.
We rode out the gate, locked it, and I jumped back on Red, we were going on a mere 2 mile walk.
The usual walk I used as my run when I was trying to get in shape.
Now however I was trying to get drunk so I thought Red would like to have a change of scenery.
We walked down Watermill road and past the two or three neighbors houses and were just bopping along.
I was holding my flask of Peppermint Schnapps in my right hand and holding the reins with my left.
I was drinking a little Schnapps and enjoying the scenery.
As we were almost to the ninety-degree left turn we could see a cars lights were coming towards us from the opposite direction. I held Red up and we stopped short of the turn so as to not be right in the turn when the car went around the corner.
Of course Reds ears shot forwards in an attentive poise,
we were blinded by the lights, but as the car was careful and driving slow we did not worry.
The car made the corner and stopped before the turn just like we did.
We stood stock still Red and I while the driver saw us and made the corner real slow and easy.
As the car was going around the corner and just as it was passing us.
I had my Scnapps in my right hand against my chest,
and squinted my eyes against the light, and to see some kind of writing that was on the side of the car.
Lets see… Sheriffs dept. hmmm,
As Red’s ears which had been forwards to check out the car which was now even with us and no danger,
now went back signifying {its ok.}
That’s what I was waiting for, as I was watching Reds ears for my instructions,
when they turned back I said “well Red, you ready?”
And then let’s go! Get!
And gave Red a little kick. Red, who was in fact ready,immediately started again.
I looked over at the car and saw that it was a Sheriffs car,
so I saluted them with my flask and nodded and Red and I went on down the road.
The two Sheriffs stood there, still for as I thought an unusually long time.
Then they both burst out laughing!
And as Red and I walked off and they laughed till Red and I were way down the road over a hundred yards and out of hearing. Just sitting there and laughing for the longest time!
Just sitting there at 11:00 at night in their Sheriffs car
and laughing like two crazy men.
Till Red and I were clear out of hearing.
I said “Red did you hear that?”
But Red didn’t say anything.
J. Winters von Knife
Sandymay & von Dukedog
Bluff Cat!
Winter 1959,
cousin Joe was staying over for the weekend at our house in oak cliff.
We were going hunting and I wanted to introduce Cousin Joe
to my new friend Randy Gibson.
We got up early, the weather was overcast and cold,
good hunting weather.
We walked down to Randy’s house and his mom said
he had already gone to check his trap lines.
So Joe and I kept on walking down the long alley
that took us to five mile creek.
We got to within one hundred yards of the last road,
loop 12, the creek was just over on the other side.
Five mile creek and what seemed to be a continent
when we were in the fourth grade,
but was actually 400 acres or so.
It was thick, wooded, with big rock piles
and an old trolley car in a field,
another creek going perpendicular to five mile
and northward parallel to IH35,
lots of coon, and fox!
as it was too close in to town for the coyotes to bother with,
and lots of cats as it was surrounded by houses.
Joe and I were walking down the long alley
there were no houses now as Randys was the last house
before we got to the woods.
Joe was asking me about Randy as they had never met,
and Joe was from pleasant grove which was more built up and populated.
We were talking about thing’s trappers and hunters talk about,
carrying our pellet guns and walking along.
When something caught my eye and I took a good look and saw Randy running across loop 12 and up the alley we were on.
He was running like crazy and hollering every jump!
I couldn’t hear what he was yelling about but the look on his face was excited and desperate.
As he got closer “Bluff Cat!
Bluff Cat!” Caught my ear.
Joe said what the hell is a Bluff Cat?
And I retorted well, we are about to find out!
Randy ran up to us and grabbed my gun without saying a word,
tore it out of my hands and turning ran back in the direction he had come! I looked at Joe and he looked at me,
and we both started running too!
We all crossed loop 12 and ran through the wooded field till we came to the creek and climbed down to the water and as the creek was kinda dry now we crossed to this giant brush pile where Randy was already easing up to with my Benjamin .22 caliber.
He was looking like a real hunter and creeping up to this brush pile where he had his trap set.
Now I really don’t know how big the brush pile would seem to me now
but when you are in the fourth grade it seemed huge!
Randy was ready to shoot,
there was blood in is eye,
and he was sneaking up on it when out jumped
a giant squalling and profoundly mean and viscous
black house cat.
It jumped out to the end of the trap chain screaming
and was showing his teeth, attacking Randy.
But for the chain I don’t know what would have happened.
Randy was a hunter and a killer
and was not scared by the Bluff Cat however,
he held his ground, he aimed and fired the old pellet gun
and shot the cat right through the head!
Pop!
And finished him off with another shot,
pump-pump-pump-pump-pump
…pop.
And the Bluff Cat was dead.
Joe said “that is just a house cat!”
Big, sure but, just a dxxx cat!
Then Randy told us a house cat that is dumped out in the wilderness
and has to fend for himself,
becomes wild and can do quite well as a predator,
just like a hog can.
It is not a house cat anymore
as it has crossed the line and become a wild cat,
a feral cat,
or as his relatives in Arkansas say…
a Bluff Cat!
J. Winters Knife
and Sandymay
_________________
jacksknifeshop.tripod.com/
Chapter 10. Short Stories/Hounds & Hunting
« Thread Started on Jul 7, 2010, 3:33pm »
Houses in a Row all made of Ticky Tacky
I was nine years old, out hunting early one morning,
I was walking in a field full of big boulders,
it was Saturday and very cold I had my pellet gun under my arm
and my hands in my pockets.
As I stepped from one boulder to another my foot slipped and unable to get my hands out of my pockets quick enough to brace myself against the fall, I hit hard on one of the big rocks.
I was not hurt but was mad.
Getting up I kept on across the field of boulders,
going from one patch of woods to another.
At the rise in the field I looked out across the landscape and saw a view of my neighborhood.
The street going into my neighborhood
up the big hill past the small store.
And rows of houses, which looked warm to me,
no one was outside as it was pretty cold.
I stopped and just looked.
I looked around and became aware that I seemed to be the only person outside that cold Saturday morning.
All the other kids my age were as I imagined home in front of their television sets, warm not even dressed yet.
What was I doing out here in the cold with my knee hurting from falling on that d**n rock?
Then I realized what turned out to be an important lesson in my life. I looked down and saw that I was carrying a Benjamin pellet gun and had my knife in my pocket where it always was and in fact still is. I looked at the scene on the next ridge
with all the warm houses in rows,
and here I was out in the woods with my gun,
hunting and I had what can be described as a vision.
I saw myself as not one of the people in those houses
but different.
I was a hunter.
It must sound silly now but it was a profound and moving experience to me the cold Saturday that it happened.
J. Winters VonKnife
“ My Usual Saturday Night Mule Ride.”
Saturday night, the weeks work is done and it’s the weekend.
After a big dinner and a few beers, I am thinking a mule ride sounds good.
The weather is cool and I have some Scnapps,
so I go out and bring up old Red.
Red is my world famous perfectly trained coon hunting saddle mule.
I would jump on old Red right now,
and ride her up to Denver,
bareback and would not think anything of it.
I loved old Red and although most of my dogs were killed long ago by two cowards named hall, present address Huntsville Texas,
I still have Red the best mule anyone ever had.
I put Red’s bridle on and fill my flask and we are off.
A dark night, but cool.
The moon is just a sliver and the weather was nice,
not too hot and not too cold or windy. We rode out the gate,
locked it, and I jumped back on Red,
we were going on a mere 4 mile walk.
The usual walk I used as my run when I was trying to get in shape. Now however I was trying to get drunk,
so I thought Red would like to have a change of scenery.
We walked down Watermill road and past the two or three neighbors houses and were just bopping along.
I was holding my flask of Peppermint Schnapps in my right hand
and holding the reins with my left.
I was drinking a little Schnapps and enjoying the scenery.
As we were almost to the ninety-degree left turn we could see a cars lights were coming towards us from the opposite direction.
I held Red up and we stopped short of the turn so as to not be right in the turn when the car went around the corner.
Of course Reds ears shot forwards in an attentive poise, we were blinded by the lights,
but as the car was careful and driving slow we did not worry.
The car made the corner and stopped before the turn just like we did.
We stood stock still Red and I while the driver saw us and made the corner real slow and easy.
As the car was going around the corner and just as it was passing us.
I had my Scnapps in my right hand against my chest, and squinted my eyes against the light,
and to see some kind of writing that was on the side of the car.
Lets see… Sheriffs dept.
Hmmmm,
As Red’s ears which had been forwards to check out the car which was now even with us and no danger,
now went back signifying
{its ok.}
That’s what I was waiting for,
as I was watching Reds ears for my instructions,
when they turned back I said:
“well Red, you ready?”
And then let’s go!
Get!
And gave Red a little kick.
Red, who was in fact ready, immediately started again.
I looked over at the car and saw that it was a sheriffs car, so I saluted them with my flask and nodded and Red and I went on down the road.
The two sheriffs stood there,
still,
for as I thought an unusually long time.
Then they both burst out laughing!
And as Red and I walked off and they laughed till Red and I were way down the road over a hundred yards.
Just sitting there and laughing for the longest time!
Just sitting there in their Sheriffs car and laughing like two crazy men.
Till Red and I were clear out of hearing.
I said “Red did you hear that?”
but Red didn’t say anything.
J. Winters VonKnife
{Sandy’s asleep ya’ll}
o
“ My Usual Saturday Night Mule Ride.”
Saturday night, the weeks work is done and it’s the weekend.
After a big dinner and a few beers, I am thinking a mule ride sounds good.
The weather is cool and I have some Schnapps, so I 'go out and bring up' old Red.
Red is my world famous, perfectly trained, coon hunting saddle mule.
I would jump on old Red right now and ride her up to Denver bareback and would not think anything of it.
I loved old Red and although most of my dogs were killed long ago by two cowards named Hall,
present address Huntsville Texas, {prison}
I still have Red, the best mule anyone ever had.
I put Red’s bridle on and filled my flask and we were ready to go.
A dark night, but cool,
the moon is just a sliver and the weather was nice, not too hot and not too cold or windy.
We rode out the gate, locked it, and I jumped back on Red, we were going on a mere 2 mile walk.
The usual walk I used as my run when I was trying to get in shape.
Now however I was trying to get drunk so I thought Red would like to have a change of scenery.
We walked down Watermill road and past the two or three neighbors houses and were just bopping along.
I was holding my flask of Peppermint Schnapps in my right hand and holding the reins with my left.
I was drinking a little Schnapps and enjoying the scenery.
As we were almost to the ninety-degree left turn we could see a cars lights were coming towards us from the opposite direction. I held Red up and we stopped short of the turn so as to not be right in the turn when the car went around the corner.
Of course Reds ears shot forwards in an attentive poise,
we were blinded by the lights, but as the car was careful and driving slow we did not worry.
The car made the corner and stopped before the turn just like we did.
We stood stock still Red and I while the driver saw us and made the corner real slow and easy.
As the car was going around the corner and just as it was passing us.
I had my Scnapps in my right hand against my chest,
and squinted my eyes against the light, and to see some kind of writing that was on the side of the car.
Lets see… Sheriffs dept. hmmm,
As Red’s ears which had been forwards to check out the car which was now even with us and no danger,
now went back signifying {its ok.}
That’s what I was waiting for, as I was watching Reds ears for my instructions,
when they turned back I said “well Red, you ready?”
And then let’s go! Get!
And gave Red a little kick. Red, who was in fact ready,immediately started again.
I looked over at the car and saw that it was a Sheriffs car,
so I saluted them with my flask and nodded and Red and I went on down the road.
The two Sheriffs stood there, still for as I thought an unusually long time.
Then they both burst out laughing!
And as Red and I walked off and they laughed till Red and I were way down the road over a hundred yards and out of hearing. Just sitting there and laughing for the longest time!
Just sitting there at 11:00 at night in their Sheriffs car
and laughing like two crazy men.
Till Red and I were clear out of hearing.
I said “Red did you hear that?”
But Red didn’t say anything.
J. Winters von Knife
Sandymay & von Dukedog
Bluff Cat!
Winter 1959,
cousin Joe was staying over for the weekend at our house in oak cliff.
We were going hunting and I wanted to introduce Cousin Joe
to my new friend Randy Gibson.
We got up early, the weather was overcast and cold,
good hunting weather.
We walked down to Randy’s house and his mom said
he had already gone to check his trap lines.
So Joe and I kept on walking down the long alley
that took us to five mile creek.
We got to within one hundred yards of the last road,
loop 12, the creek was just over on the other side.
Five mile creek and what seemed to be a continent
when we were in the fourth grade,
but was actually 400 acres or so.
It was thick, wooded, with big rock piles
and an old trolley car in a field,
another creek going perpendicular to five mile
and northward parallel to IH35,
lots of coon, and fox!
as it was too close in to town for the coyotes to bother with,
and lots of cats as it was surrounded by houses.
Joe and I were walking down the long alley
there were no houses now as Randys was the last house
before we got to the woods.
Joe was asking me about Randy as they had never met,
and Joe was from pleasant grove which was more built up and populated.
We were talking about thing’s trappers and hunters talk about,
carrying our pellet guns and walking along.
When something caught my eye and I took a good look and saw Randy running across loop 12 and up the alley we were on.
He was running like crazy and hollering every jump!
I couldn’t hear what he was yelling about but the look on his face was excited and desperate.
As he got closer “Bluff Cat!
Bluff Cat!” Caught my ear.
Joe said what the hell is a Bluff Cat?
And I retorted well, we are about to find out!
Randy ran up to us and grabbed my gun without saying a word,
tore it out of my hands and turning ran back in the direction he had come! I looked at Joe and he looked at me,
and we both started running too!
We all crossed loop 12 and ran through the wooded field till we came to the creek and climbed down to the water and as the creek was kinda dry now we crossed to this giant brush pile where Randy was already easing up to with my Benjamin .22 caliber.
He was looking like a real hunter and creeping up to this brush pile where he had his trap set.
Now I really don’t know how big the brush pile would seem to me now
but when you are in the fourth grade it seemed huge!
Randy was ready to shoot,
there was blood in is eye,
and he was sneaking up on it when out jumped
a giant squalling and profoundly mean and viscous
black house cat.
It jumped out to the end of the trap chain screaming
and was showing his teeth, attacking Randy.
But for the chain I don’t know what would have happened.
Randy was a hunter and a killer
and was not scared by the Bluff Cat however,
he held his ground, he aimed and fired the old pellet gun
and shot the cat right through the head!
Pop!
And finished him off with another shot,
pump-pump-pump-pump-pump
…pop.
And the Bluff Cat was dead.
Joe said “that is just a house cat!”
Big, sure but, just a dxxx cat!
Then Randy told us a house cat that is dumped out in the wilderness
and has to fend for himself,
becomes wild and can do quite well as a predator,
just like a hog can.
It is not a house cat anymore
as it has crossed the line and become a wild cat,
a feral cat,
or as his relatives in Arkansas say…
a Bluff Cat!
J. Winters Knife
and Sandymay
_________________
jacksknifeshop.tripod.com/
Chapter 10. Short Stories/Hounds & Hunting
« Thread Started on Jul 7, 2010, 3:33pm »
[Modify] [Delete]
Joe and Suemays second Coon
I was trying to use a pet coon to train hounds.
I would drag the coon cage and hang it up and let hounds track it. They were getting board of this especially Sue May.
Joe would not bark at a caged coon,
even if I tried to sic him on it.
So I let coon go and figured he would change county’s,
however he went up the first little tree he came to.
He would not come down or run so I left him food and water and went home.
He was there all night and all the next day,
but the following day he came down and left.
So the next night about midnight we went out.
I had no gun this being September 15th.
I wanted to exercise the hounds and try and find the easy coon.
We walked the usual route,
Joe and Sue May picked up a track near where the easy coon was last seen but lost it along a long grownup fence row running across bare fields. Then we went farther into the woods on down by the creek. Sue May treed a possum and I remember thinking this is better than nothing.
I called them and walked on, they left the tree right away.
We walked way down the creek but struck nothing.
I turned come back and they just then opened and ran up hill away from the creek and west…chalk rock and cedar uplands.
I walked after them with old Barry dog my collie retriever who stays with me when we hunt. The hounds were long gone so I waited with light on dim so they could see me.
In about fifteen minutes I heard one walking around in the leaves nearby. I stood there and enjoyed the ¾ waning moon which was very high and cast a very good light and the loud rustling of the giant cotton wood trees.
Thinking back to many past hunts, while watching the many patches of still white moonlight on the ground.
The moonlight on the chalk rock is bright enough for walking without a light so I switched off the nightlight and was walking along.
I noticed a shadow moving across the ground
so I switched on light and noticed a big skunk
waddling unhurriedly along.
Sue May just then crossed the track of the skunk and sniffed.
When I said no Sue May, she much to my surprise turned and walked away continuing to hunt.
Just this year all of a sudden Joe and Sue May stopped chasing armadillos, skunks, and rabbits,
I believe it is because I trot hard and keep up with them
and am in fact hunting with them,
and they know it.
I remind them coon!
Coon! is what we are after,
and scold them promptly for trashing and after a number of times a word is enough.
Hounds naturally loose interest in trash when you let them know what you are hunting and keep up with the hunt yourself.
Don’t let them get board.
The worst thing you can do with hounds is beat them for hunting undesirable game and then fail to take them to where there are coon and then to hunt hard and have fun. They must hunt it is their nature.
Guide them by doing your part,
by finding good coon areas, staying out late,
and often.
Enjoy being pack leader and encourage them to excell.
Anyway, we went over onto the power company land and bingo!
Joe treed at once.
I shone light up the tree and the first thing I saw was a coon.
He was in the first crotch of a giant oak 6’ through
and as sound as a dollar.
With a large limb 3’ through leaning against it 5’ high at the tree.
After 4 years of possums skunks, armadillos, rats, cats and poodles,
{and one lucky coyote kill” A coon!
And there he was!
Well, I thought poor old coon.
This is the tame one we let go 4 nights before.
I enjoyed the dogs treeing awhile and then got to thinking of the old colored man I had seen the other night with 3-4 of his friends.
It was mid September and they were out hunting with half a dozen hounds and a shotgun. They would surly kill this dumb coon.
My dogs need him awful bad to chew as their reward,
and as training’s final touch.
I really need to shoot this coon out to the dogs.
I thought to myself…
Do you, self, want coon dogs?
Or do feelings of compassion for pet coon outweigh?
Do I want to be legal and miss chance to blood dogs on their number one first fair chase coon?
Moral problem … poor coon, 4 days of freedom and pow!
vs my hounds education?
I figured due to my inexperience at training they are behind.
I hear about 1-2 year old hounds treeing their own coon regularly.
My hounds are going to loose interest in treeing as they are never encouraged on anything but squirrel.
Everything else is trash!
I do let them tree possums, anything that climbs.
They need a coon to chew on I have been saying a thousand times, get a coon.
They need coon scent strongly implanted in their minds!
They need it!
In order to be good coon hounds!
So I made my mind up to tie Susie up, and go back to the house for the gun to shoot the coon in the name of education.
Unsporting as it is.
I came back with gun.
Joe had left tree and had met me at the house.
He is used to me leaving tree because of seasons or trash,
he is loosing his natural treeing instinct because of this so back we goo to get Joe that coon. !
Poor Joe had thought I was going home
when he realized we were going back!
He was very excited.
25% of the way back to the tree he took off!
And I soon heard him barking treed with his sister
who I had tied to a bush so she would keep the coon busy.
When I got to the tree,
dogs wouldn’t even bark at coon,
I was siccing them I held up the gun, coon saw that gun!
And started going places!
He came down the tree and started going places.
He came down the tree and ran off into this thicket zip zip.
Joe didn’t see this I called Joe over to where coon had passed
on leaning tree and as he hit the scent trail
Boooowwwww!
And the chase was on.
Joe took off in full cry, hot after coon,
working strictly by scent.
He never saw coon but the track was so hot Joe sounded like he was right on that coons tail.
Joe had coon treed in one minute!
Down thickly wooded dry wash in big oak hollow,
on edge of wash.
I shined but saw only a hole.
Joe was treeing hard but not Suemay.
I climbed tree and shined light down hole,
there was a coon down in the center of the tree,
he looked up at me,
and I said well hi there coon!
For this was not the same coon I had let go!
It was all scroungy all grey and not nearly as fat my coon!
There were coon hairs all over the opening of this well worn
coon tree.
I later noticed tracks of coon on every log crossing the wash,
and since it hadn’t rained for two weeks,
I am sure this was a real wild coon,
and not the pet.
This coon had lived here for months.
I still couldn’t get Sue May to bark treed like she will on a squirrel.
But she hasn’t been tree barking much lately letting Joe
do all the work.
She will come and lay on the porch while Joe is treeing,
however get a gun and walk outside and she run to tree
and bark like hell.
Popped a few rounds up at tree,
all dog were silent then all started barking like crazy.
A few more shots and they were thinking
“well now the fool will shoot the coon out for us”
and they just barked like there was 10 coon up there,
for that’s all sue wanted was for me to do my part.
They were used to summer hunting
and no shooting but shoot over them and they really respond,
they are happy.
I really should shoot out a coon to them first chance
but this jump out and second chase,
got them to treeing good.
In shape for the hunting season and I now have a coon to chase every night plus the pet coon,
I HAVE YET TO RUN ACROSS.
The hounds, Barry and I stayed at the tree till 4 in the morning,
we all had a good time.
There are two coon in the woods now,
right beside my house,
and come kill season,
Susie will get all the coon she wants.
This is an old story,
written in 83 and the pups were young then.
Jack
Howdy, Y'all,
I have had a stroke of good luck !
[Its about time!]
I have been running a pretty good coon line,
but nothing special.
A friend who I have known for 49 years,
since the fourth grade!
And happens to be the manager of a feed store,
called and said he has had a big chicken die off because of a recent freeze.
And he knew I was trapping and needed chickens,
I have called and gone by many times looking for bait,
feathers even.
"Jack, he said, I have three feed sacks full of fresh dead chickens!
Come and get them!
My first thought was Bobcat!
And how they are quite fond of chickens.
I will get on over there tomorrow morning.
Good old Randy.
I have been having a hard time with bait,
I haven't trapped in 14 years, since all my Hounds were poisoned or gut shot
by some cowardly brothers named Hall,
present address Huntsville Texas. [Prison]
It broke my heart,
but something happened when I was in this coma!
People don't dream while in Comas.
I was out for five weeks,
only once did I have a dream...
but it wasn't a dream.
It was a vision from God.
I saw my best Walker hound Cotton Joe.
He was all muscled up, his fur just shined,
and he looked like he did while at his best,
in his life.
It took Joe three months to die.
He suffered the most and was my favorite.
In the vision, Joe's eyes were full of tears,
he couldn't speak because he was a dog,
of course, but he spoke to me telepathically,
his lips didn't move.
God fixed it up somehow.
"Jack, we all really suffered when we died,
me most of all.
But we are all O.K. now!
All of us, I have been 2-3-4 dogs since then,
its been 12 years!
You are the only one still suffering and it hurts me!"
You are getting old, and you are missing your life!
You never got another hound.
You never set another trap.
You never hunted at all,
You drink beer and ride that motorcycle up to that beer joint
way out in the country late at night.
You sit on the back porch alone,
you never talk to anybody and you don't have any friends.
We would all be there with you if we could, but we can't!
Get you some hounds and go hunting!
After 5 weeks in a Coma I opened my eyes
and was in a Hospital.
So, after all that,
I am the beneficiary of three sack fulls of dead chickens!
Great big ones!
How ones luck can turn around when you least expect it!
I really needed this!
I have the sets already laid out and I will have a dozen of my favorite Bobcat sets out by sundown tomorrow easy,
and a dozen the next day.
The trapline is bringing my health and my spirit back.
It is what I live for and what I get up for in the morning.
The memories come flooding back.
Every day on the line makes me stronger.
Bobcats will make me rich!
Well.. at least not quite so broke.
My new hound Sandy May is incredibly smart!
She will be a great hound.
Thank you
J. Winters von Knife
jacksknifeshop.tripod.com/
First Coon for Katy May
Sunday evening about 10:20 Ballard, Gary and I walked down to the creek with the dogs and right away the dogs treed,
right on the creek in a large tree.
We shined and squalled and it was a long time before Ballard saw eyes very faintly.
He said they were yellow and were no coon but looked more like a ring tailed cat.
I had treed and trapped ringtails within 300 yards on several occasions, so I surmised that’s what they were.
We couldn’t see the eyes after that so after fifteen minutes we moved over to a pecan tree and while all three dogs gave the cat hell we all picked five pounds of pecans.
The pecans picked and piled to be picked up on out return trip we moved south across the bottom pasture and into the woods.
Almost as soon as we got into the woods Sue May
and then Joe opened and started sniffing around very seriously.
Katy got in there too and they treed her within one hundred yards. Ballard spoke before I did but we both noticed the dogs change in attitude at the same time.
When we got to the tree all the dogs were there.
Ballard searched the tree carefully with lights on and set very dim.
We squalled some and circled around the giant oak.
I would step slowly checking for eyes.
Turn the light off and look for a silhouette,
a dark bump against the sky.
I was backing slowly when I saw reddish green lights
in the top of the old tree in a crotch.
“I’ve got him, ”I said,
coon!”
and showed him to the dogs.
Good girls Sue May and Katy dog,
Get that coon!”
And they did, jumping up on the tree and bawling,
they were having a time!
The weather was warm and damp good weather for scenting
and I hoped young Katy was watching and smelling and remembering.
We sicked dogs and raised hell and I aimed to shoot out the coon with a neck nick so he would have a little fight left in him but I aimed too low and just as the coon moved I fired and said d**n!
I missed him.
Just then as dogs were quiet and waiting to see if I hit anything there came a crashing and a shaking of limbs below where I knew the coon was.
I said here he comes and shone my light on the ground where I expected him to land.
I thought he was jumping out but when he landed I knew he had fallen and must have been hit. As soon as he landed the dogs had him and were stretching him.
He had been hit square in the head and neck and was killed clean.
We let the dogs especially Katy wool the critter
and hung him in a tree and sicked dogs on him again.
Katy was jumping on the tree and I took two pictures of dogs fighting coon where he landed and two treeing pictures.
A good lesson for Katy her first coon!
She sure got her teeth in coon fur.
She chewed the coon till I put him on a heel stick and we took off.
Gary insisted on carrying the coon and was very proud of his first coon hunt,
and he carried it for the rest of the hunt.
All in all we hunted about three hours,
but after this coon it was fairly uneventful.
Tonight the dogs did not trash,
except Sue was trailing something in the edge of a field,
maybe Joe could not smell it or maybe it was trash.
No telling, but she did not embarrass me by killing armadellos
or crap like that.
We circled around to ‘Head lake d**n’
and walked back through the uplands,
and came back to the house.
We skinned the coon {I did]
and talked till 2:30 making plans to do it again.
J. Knife
The True Story of Old Joe Crow
As told to Lt. Wendell Goggins
Dallas Sheriffs dept.
{During my investigation for something}
{I never did find out what!}
{me} “Well I knowed this feller once, his name was Randy.”
{Lt.} “The crow?”
{me} “No, the kid” the crows name was Joe.”
{unison} “Old Joe Crow”
“Arrrggg
If I hear the story about old Joe crow again I’ll go crazy!”
{The Lt. had obviously been listening in
on my telephone conversations too long.”
“It’s eating my brain!”
Well what did you ask for?
I’ve heard the story of Joe Crow,
the one where your friend taught a crow to say sxxx my dxxx bxxxx!
No,
I thought it was,
anyway I don’t have time to hear the story of Joe Crow again.
Ok, fine, I don’t care.
But you have it wrong,
if you don’t mind having giant gaps and omissions in your information about me in your file, your resume, investigation, dossier, what do you call it?
“Ok make it quick.”
Well, like I was saying I knowed this feller once,
trained a crow to cuss.
Randy Fraze was his name. The Crows name was Joe.
Old Joe Crow.
This was back in the fourth grade.
Randy Fraze was out hunting with my other friend Randy Gibson and had shot this Crow.
He ran over and picked up the crow and the Crow was still alive. Randy was going to pull the Crows head off and stopped just a second and looked at the Crow,
the Crow was not trying to get away, or peck Randy, not cawing on scratching or pecking.
He just looked Randy right in the eye.
Randy later said that “the Crow was not afraid or mean either one, he just looked me right in the eye, with no fear at all”
He had real pretty eyes and they just shined.
Randy later told me “I was about to pull his head off and put him in my pocket but stopped as there was something about this crow.” Randy took an immediate liking to the crow.
Randy said “I decided to keep that Crow,
right then and there.
Took him home and put him in a big squirrel cage
I had in my back yard. I fixed it up with limbs and a water bowl
big enough for him to bathe in. And named him Joe.
And so began the story of old Joe Crow.
Randy fed Joe old bread mostly that he got for free at the store, and had him for a while,
when one day Randy looked at Joe and remembered that he’d heard somewhere that crows could be trained to talk.
Randy said that he would carry the trash out for his parents and walked right by Joe’s cage every day and he thought that if he was to train old Joe this was the way to do it.
He said, “every day when I would take the trash out I would stop at Joe’s cage.
I kept a loaf or two of old bread,
{ fresh bread cost .30-.40 back then,}
on top of the cage to feed to old Joe. And even if I was late for school, even if it was raining, no matter what.”
“I would always stop at Joe’s cage and get a piece of bread and say Joe, get fxxxxx, get fxxxxx, get fxxxxx.”
And old Joe never said anything,
so Randy would give him the bread and go on to school.
“I sort of made a religion out of it” he used to say.
Well this was in the fourth grade you remember,
and Randy had given up on Joe ever learning to speak.
Randy just kept on doing this out of habit as he walked by Joe’s cage every day, several times, anyway.
He kept on saying when he would feed Joe,
“Geeeet Fxxxxx!
Get fxxxxx, come on Joe,
get fxxxxx
, throw the bread in and walk off.”
Well one day Randy was late for school as usual,
he walked out to get his bike and go to school
and stopped at Joe’s cage,
it was so easy and was a habit now anyway,
Randy said Joe, here’s your bread boy,
get fxxxxx
and I can remember the look in Randy’s eyes out on our trap line that winter as he told me this.
Randy said:
“Joe jumped on his old limb and ruffled his feathers
and looked right at me and said “GET Fxxxxx!”
And Randy was ecstatic,
he was the most excited kid in the world that morning.
So excited in fact he said “I took the whole loaf of bread
and threw it all!
In Joe’s cage!” And old Joe loved bread!
Randy told me:
“I lined the bottom of old Joe’s cage with bread that morning.
” Joe was happy too and realized instantly what he had done!
He was a smart Crow!
Randy went on to school and told everybody what had happened. That he had trained a crow to cuss, and he had!
All this was in the fifth grade,
and every day after school there would be lots of kids over at Randy’s house admiring old Joe,
every day his driveway would be full of bicycles,
he was the most popular kid in the school.
One day in the fifth grade Randy decided to teach old Joe
something else.
Randy decided after some profound thought,
that if Joe could say two words the next lesson should be four words!
And if “get fxxxxx was so popular”,
the next lesson should be “sxxx my dxxx bxxxx”
Randy told me that this second lesson did not take nearly as long as the first!
Old Joe was catching on and adapting to his new home and life.
So in addition to “Get fxxxxx
” Joe would say “Sxxx my dxxx bxxxx” equally as readily.
Randy was as proud of a kid as I think it was possible to be. Every day Randy’s driveway would be full of bicycles and he was the lion of fifth grade society.
But as all good things come to pass so did old Joe.
One day, Randy’s mother … was going to work,
she was all cleaned up and perfumed,
had her makeup on and her hair groomed,
her eyebrows plucked out and painted back on.
And she was on her way to work,
walking out to her Plymouth with the push button transmition and the biggest tail fins that were ever put on a car.
1961or so?
And Randy’s mother was real churchy,
I mean she made Randy not only go to Sunday school,
but actually made him do his Sunday school homework!
You know she was a fanatic.
And she walked right past old Joe’s cage.
Joe saw her coming and jumped up on his perch ruffled his feathers and looked her right in the eye and said:
“sxxx my dxxx bxxxx!”
Well Joe didn’t know what that actually meant.
Old Joe just wanted some bread.
But unfortunately Randy’s mother did,
and she went crazy!
Randy said to me when he was telling us this story on our trap line that winter.
That he had never seen his mother go crazy before and he was worried about her.
She raved and screamed and raised hell till,
as Randy later told me,
“my dad took me outside like he was going to beat me,
and after Mom went to work.”
“My dad said “Randy I know how much work you have done with old Joe,”
I never thought you would get that d**n crow to say anything.” And I am proud of you. Randy’s dad was cool, {he worked for the phone co.} He went on.
“You have really accomplished something,
training that crow to cuss.
I have never heard of anybody doing that before,
and I am proud of you for it.”
You have really accomplished something!
And you have done good.
“But… you know how women are.” “Your mother doesn’t appreciate things like that and either that crow, old Joe.
Or you and me and Joe too!
All of us! are going to have to move!”
Randy said” Dad I know what you mean.”
“Just give him to Randy Gibson or Greg Cook, or Jack Hamilton.”
Randy said, “no.”
“Dad, old Joe is a good old crow,
and I have been thinking about this for a long time anyway.
” He has earned his freedom.”
I’ll let him go!
He has made me the most popular kid in the school and yes,
Old Joe has earned his freedom.”
Randy told his dad about how he had shot old Joe and almost pulled his head off.” The whole story,
and his dad said how proud he was to have such a good son.
So Randy took old Joe out of his cage one Saturday.
It was cold and overcast
and held him for a long time.
Randy talked to old Joe and gave him all the bread he would eat.
Randy said good bye to old Joe and how he was going to set him free.
How Joe was the best crow any kid ever had.
And how he would never shoot another crow.
I even remember Randy telling me that:
“I don’t care if you shoot a crow Jack,
but I will never shoot another as long as I live,
I promised that to old Joe.”
And as it turned out I never shot another crow either.
Randy took old Joe and petted him and after a few false throws to get Joe ready,
to know he was going to be thrown in the air.
Randy threw old Joe up and later told me that Joe flew up and perched on top of a telephone pole
where the other crows used to sit and caw at him while he was in his cage.
Joe sat on the pole for a long time
and would not fly away.
Randy would say “go on Joe, go on.” But Joe just stayed on top of the telephone pole
and Randy went in the house.
Randy said to me on the trap line later in the winter,”
old Joe would stay on the pole and just sit.
He seemed undecided as what to do.
Randy kept bread on the top of Joe’s cage for a long time,
especially in the winter. Joe stayed around Randy’s house and would fly off but come back, and took to bringing the other crows with him. Old Joe would stay gone longer and longer
till one day he just didn’t come back.
The Story of old Joe Crow
Jack Hamilton as told by Randy Fraze
1961-2
Supplemental to old Joe Crow
One day,
long after Randy had let old Joe Crow go,
as near as I can remember, about two months.
Two of my other friends, Randy Gibson and Greg Cook,
were riding their bicycles down to the 7-11,
the local convenience store.
They went in, and it being a cold Saturday,
as they knew the old guy pretty good,
it was a good place to hang out.
They would eat candy, drink Cokes,
and one of them would keep old Noah busy
while the other would steal shotgun shells.
{One or two out of a box.}
A kid could hunt all day on one or two shells.
Nobody ever noticed or cared anyway.
However old Noah, the manager,
was not his usual friendly self.
“How’s it going Noah!” Greg said.
No response.
“Noah, hi.”
No response.
“Whats the matter?
You fighting with your old lady again?
Grumble Grumble.
Noah! We know we are just kids,
but we are your friends.
Tell us what the problem is,
it might help just get it off your chest. Or you never know,
maybe we can help!
Greg and Randy kept after old Noah for a long time. Finally he opened up and told them what was bothering him so much.
Old Noah said, “nobody can help!
“I’m going home today and shoot myself.”
“ I don’t even own a gun,
and will have to buy one on the way home to shoot myself with!”
“And then my wife will not be able to return it as it will be used,
Everything is just going wrong.”
Old Noah was really disturbed.
“No”, he said, “no one can help!”
I think I am loosing my mind, he went on,
“I was opening up this morning,” “I was pushing the drink box out on the porch, filling it up with ice and cases of cokes,”
“When this big black bird.”
He didn’t know what a crow was.
“This big black bird,
flew down, lit on the drink box,
walked right up to me,
and looked me right in the eye,
and told me to get f**ked !”
Old Noah said.
With a strange far away look in his eye Noah, told Greg and Randy, how when this morning he was pushing the drink box out on the front porch, and was filling it with ice, this big black bird, { He didn’t know what 'Crow' was,}
“ This big black bird flew down, lit on the drink box, walked right up to me, looked me in the eye, and told me to get f**ked!”
“I waved my arms and the bird flew away.”…
“Why are ya’ll laughing”?
They knew instantly what had happened.
They both laughed, and said
“That’s old Joe!!!!!
He’s still around!
And told Noah the story of old Joe Crow, ending the story with the usual, “He just wanted something to eat.”
Noah was so relieved he told them…
“ Ya’ll can have $10.00 dollars worth of anything in the store!
Help your selves!”
That was his whole days pay, back in the late 50’s and early 60’s.
Greg and Randy were happy,
and old Noah did not have to go home and shoot himself,
so he was happy too!
How good to have friends like Randy and Greg!
They had saved old Noahs life!
And they had!
Written 2003
But I have told this story for the last 40 years
Jack W. Hamilton
Randy Gibsons crow would say “Hello Joe.”
And catch Cicadas and eat them, catch them on the wing,
What if the preacher herd the crow cussing!
Gibson and fraze climbed a tall limbless tree and knocked 1-2 crows down with a cane pole.
Opened store up, was pushing drink box out and filling it, with cases of drinks, Nehi’s…
Crow are the smartest bird in the world! Fact!
Noah’you wouldn’t believe it if I told you…..smile
Frazes mom threw brick at crow, and tried to kill it. “What if the fxxxxxx preacher herd that!
Thank you
J. VonKnife
Joe and Suemays second Coon
I was trying to use a pet coon to train hounds.
I would drag the coon cage and hang it up and let hounds track it. They were getting board of this especially Sue May.
Joe would not bark at a caged coon,
even if I tried to sic him on it.
So I let coon go and figured he would change county’s,
however he went up the first little tree he came to.
He would not come down or run so I left him food and water and went home.
He was there all night and all the next day,
but the following day he came down and left.
So the next night about midnight we went out.
I had no gun this being September 15th.
I wanted to exercise the hounds and try and find the easy coon.
We walked the usual route,
Joe and Sue May picked up a track near where the easy coon was last seen but lost it along a long grownup fence row running across bare fields. Then we went farther into the woods on down by the creek. Sue May treed a possum and I remember thinking this is better than nothing.
I called them and walked on, they left the tree right away.
We walked way down the creek but struck nothing.
I turned come back and they just then opened and ran up hill away from the creek and west…chalk rock and cedar uplands.
I walked after them with old Barry dog my collie retriever who stays with me when we hunt. The hounds were long gone so I waited with light on dim so they could see me.
In about fifteen minutes I heard one walking around in the leaves nearby. I stood there and enjoyed the ¾ waning moon which was very high and cast a very good light and the loud rustling of the giant cotton wood trees.
Thinking back to many past hunts, while watching the many patches of still white moonlight on the ground.
The moonlight on the chalk rock is bright enough for walking without a light so I switched off the nightlight and was walking along.
I noticed a shadow moving across the ground
so I switched on light and noticed a big skunk
waddling unhurriedly along.
Sue May just then crossed the track of the skunk and sniffed.
When I said no Sue May, she much to my surprise turned and walked away continuing to hunt.
Just this year all of a sudden Joe and Sue May stopped chasing armadillos, skunks, and rabbits,
I believe it is because I trot hard and keep up with them
and am in fact hunting with them,
and they know it.
I remind them coon!
Coon! is what we are after,
and scold them promptly for trashing and after a number of times a word is enough.
Hounds naturally loose interest in trash when you let them know what you are hunting and keep up with the hunt yourself.
Don’t let them get board.
The worst thing you can do with hounds is beat them for hunting undesirable game and then fail to take them to where there are coon and then to hunt hard and have fun. They must hunt it is their nature.
Guide them by doing your part,
by finding good coon areas, staying out late,
and often.
Enjoy being pack leader and encourage them to excell.
Anyway, we went over onto the power company land and bingo!
Joe treed at once.
I shone light up the tree and the first thing I saw was a coon.
He was in the first crotch of a giant oak 6’ through
and as sound as a dollar.
With a large limb 3’ through leaning against it 5’ high at the tree.
After 4 years of possums skunks, armadillos, rats, cats and poodles,
{and one lucky coyote kill” A coon!
And there he was!
Well, I thought poor old coon.
This is the tame one we let go 4 nights before.
I enjoyed the dogs treeing awhile and then got to thinking of the old colored man I had seen the other night with 3-4 of his friends.
It was mid September and they were out hunting with half a dozen hounds and a shotgun. They would surly kill this dumb coon.
My dogs need him awful bad to chew as their reward,
and as training’s final touch.
I really need to shoot this coon out to the dogs.
I thought to myself…
Do you, self, want coon dogs?
Or do feelings of compassion for pet coon outweigh?
Do I want to be legal and miss chance to blood dogs on their number one first fair chase coon?
Moral problem … poor coon, 4 days of freedom and pow!
vs my hounds education?
I figured due to my inexperience at training they are behind.
I hear about 1-2 year old hounds treeing their own coon regularly.
My hounds are going to loose interest in treeing as they are never encouraged on anything but squirrel.
Everything else is trash!
I do let them tree possums, anything that climbs.
They need a coon to chew on I have been saying a thousand times, get a coon.
They need coon scent strongly implanted in their minds!
They need it!
In order to be good coon hounds!
So I made my mind up to tie Susie up, and go back to the house for the gun to shoot the coon in the name of education.
Unsporting as it is.
I came back with gun.
Joe had left tree and had met me at the house.
He is used to me leaving tree because of seasons or trash,
he is loosing his natural treeing instinct because of this so back we goo to get Joe that coon. !
Poor Joe had thought I was going home
when he realized we were going back!
He was very excited.
25% of the way back to the tree he took off!
And I soon heard him barking treed with his sister
who I had tied to a bush so she would keep the coon busy.
When I got to the tree,
dogs wouldn’t even bark at coon,
I was siccing them I held up the gun, coon saw that gun!
And started going places!
He came down the tree and started going places.
He came down the tree and ran off into this thicket zip zip.
Joe didn’t see this I called Joe over to where coon had passed
on leaning tree and as he hit the scent trail
Boooowwwww!
And the chase was on.
Joe took off in full cry, hot after coon,
working strictly by scent.
He never saw coon but the track was so hot Joe sounded like he was right on that coons tail.
Joe had coon treed in one minute!
Down thickly wooded dry wash in big oak hollow,
on edge of wash.
I shined but saw only a hole.
Joe was treeing hard but not Suemay.
I climbed tree and shined light down hole,
there was a coon down in the center of the tree,
he looked up at me,
and I said well hi there coon!
For this was not the same coon I had let go!
It was all scroungy all grey and not nearly as fat my coon!
There were coon hairs all over the opening of this well worn
coon tree.
I later noticed tracks of coon on every log crossing the wash,
and since it hadn’t rained for two weeks,
I am sure this was a real wild coon,
and not the pet.
This coon had lived here for months.
I still couldn’t get Sue May to bark treed like she will on a squirrel.
But she hasn’t been tree barking much lately letting Joe
do all the work.
She will come and lay on the porch while Joe is treeing,
however get a gun and walk outside and she run to tree
and bark like hell.
Popped a few rounds up at tree,
all dog were silent then all started barking like crazy.
A few more shots and they were thinking
“well now the fool will shoot the coon out for us”
and they just barked like there was 10 coon up there,
for that’s all sue wanted was for me to do my part.
They were used to summer hunting
and no shooting but shoot over them and they really respond,
they are happy.
I really should shoot out a coon to them first chance
but this jump out and second chase,
got them to treeing good.
In shape for the hunting season and I now have a coon to chase every night plus the pet coon,
I HAVE YET TO RUN ACROSS.
The hounds, Barry and I stayed at the tree till 4 in the morning,
we all had a good time.
There are two coon in the woods now,
right beside my house,
and come kill season,
Susie will get all the coon she wants.
This is an old story,
written in 83 and the pups were young then.
Jack
Howdy, Y'all,
I have had a stroke of good luck !
[Its about time!]
I have been running a pretty good coon line,
but nothing special.
A friend who I have known for 49 years,
since the fourth grade!
And happens to be the manager of a feed store,
called and said he has had a big chicken die off because of a recent freeze.
And he knew I was trapping and needed chickens,
I have called and gone by many times looking for bait,
feathers even.
"Jack, he said, I have three feed sacks full of fresh dead chickens!
Come and get them!
My first thought was Bobcat!
And how they are quite fond of chickens.
I will get on over there tomorrow morning.
Good old Randy.
I have been having a hard time with bait,
I haven't trapped in 14 years, since all my Hounds were poisoned or gut shot
by some cowardly brothers named Hall,
present address Huntsville Texas. [Prison]
It broke my heart,
but something happened when I was in this coma!
People don't dream while in Comas.
I was out for five weeks,
only once did I have a dream...
but it wasn't a dream.
It was a vision from God.
I saw my best Walker hound Cotton Joe.
He was all muscled up, his fur just shined,
and he looked like he did while at his best,
in his life.
It took Joe three months to die.
He suffered the most and was my favorite.
In the vision, Joe's eyes were full of tears,
he couldn't speak because he was a dog,
of course, but he spoke to me telepathically,
his lips didn't move.
God fixed it up somehow.
"Jack, we all really suffered when we died,
me most of all.
But we are all O.K. now!
All of us, I have been 2-3-4 dogs since then,
its been 12 years!
You are the only one still suffering and it hurts me!"
You are getting old, and you are missing your life!
You never got another hound.
You never set another trap.
You never hunted at all,
You drink beer and ride that motorcycle up to that beer joint
way out in the country late at night.
You sit on the back porch alone,
you never talk to anybody and you don't have any friends.
We would all be there with you if we could, but we can't!
Get you some hounds and go hunting!
After 5 weeks in a Coma I opened my eyes
and was in a Hospital.
So, after all that,
I am the beneficiary of three sack fulls of dead chickens!
Great big ones!
How ones luck can turn around when you least expect it!
I really needed this!
I have the sets already laid out and I will have a dozen of my favorite Bobcat sets out by sundown tomorrow easy,
and a dozen the next day.
The trapline is bringing my health and my spirit back.
It is what I live for and what I get up for in the morning.
The memories come flooding back.
Every day on the line makes me stronger.
Bobcats will make me rich!
Well.. at least not quite so broke.
My new hound Sandy May is incredibly smart!
She will be a great hound.
Thank you
J. Winters von Knife
jacksknifeshop.tripod.com/
First Coon for Katy May
Sunday evening about 10:20 Ballard, Gary and I walked down to the creek with the dogs and right away the dogs treed,
right on the creek in a large tree.
We shined and squalled and it was a long time before Ballard saw eyes very faintly.
He said they were yellow and were no coon but looked more like a ring tailed cat.
I had treed and trapped ringtails within 300 yards on several occasions, so I surmised that’s what they were.
We couldn’t see the eyes after that so after fifteen minutes we moved over to a pecan tree and while all three dogs gave the cat hell we all picked five pounds of pecans.
The pecans picked and piled to be picked up on out return trip we moved south across the bottom pasture and into the woods.
Almost as soon as we got into the woods Sue May
and then Joe opened and started sniffing around very seriously.
Katy got in there too and they treed her within one hundred yards. Ballard spoke before I did but we both noticed the dogs change in attitude at the same time.
When we got to the tree all the dogs were there.
Ballard searched the tree carefully with lights on and set very dim.
We squalled some and circled around the giant oak.
I would step slowly checking for eyes.
Turn the light off and look for a silhouette,
a dark bump against the sky.
I was backing slowly when I saw reddish green lights
in the top of the old tree in a crotch.
“I’ve got him, ”I said,
coon!”
and showed him to the dogs.
Good girls Sue May and Katy dog,
Get that coon!”
And they did, jumping up on the tree and bawling,
they were having a time!
The weather was warm and damp good weather for scenting
and I hoped young Katy was watching and smelling and remembering.
We sicked dogs and raised hell and I aimed to shoot out the coon with a neck nick so he would have a little fight left in him but I aimed too low and just as the coon moved I fired and said d**n!
I missed him.
Just then as dogs were quiet and waiting to see if I hit anything there came a crashing and a shaking of limbs below where I knew the coon was.
I said here he comes and shone my light on the ground where I expected him to land.
I thought he was jumping out but when he landed I knew he had fallen and must have been hit. As soon as he landed the dogs had him and were stretching him.
He had been hit square in the head and neck and was killed clean.
We let the dogs especially Katy wool the critter
and hung him in a tree and sicked dogs on him again.
Katy was jumping on the tree and I took two pictures of dogs fighting coon where he landed and two treeing pictures.
A good lesson for Katy her first coon!
She sure got her teeth in coon fur.
She chewed the coon till I put him on a heel stick and we took off.
Gary insisted on carrying the coon and was very proud of his first coon hunt,
and he carried it for the rest of the hunt.
All in all we hunted about three hours,
but after this coon it was fairly uneventful.
Tonight the dogs did not trash,
except Sue was trailing something in the edge of a field,
maybe Joe could not smell it or maybe it was trash.
No telling, but she did not embarrass me by killing armadellos
or crap like that.
We circled around to ‘Head lake d**n’
and walked back through the uplands,
and came back to the house.
We skinned the coon {I did]
and talked till 2:30 making plans to do it again.
J. Knife
The True Story of Old Joe Crow
As told to Lt. Wendell Goggins
Dallas Sheriffs dept.
{During my investigation for something}
{I never did find out what!}
{me} “Well I knowed this feller once, his name was Randy.”
{Lt.} “The crow?”
{me} “No, the kid” the crows name was Joe.”
{unison} “Old Joe Crow”
“Arrrggg
If I hear the story about old Joe crow again I’ll go crazy!”
{The Lt. had obviously been listening in
on my telephone conversations too long.”
“It’s eating my brain!”
Well what did you ask for?
I’ve heard the story of Joe Crow,
the one where your friend taught a crow to say sxxx my dxxx bxxxx!
No,
I thought it was,
anyway I don’t have time to hear the story of Joe Crow again.
Ok, fine, I don’t care.
But you have it wrong,
if you don’t mind having giant gaps and omissions in your information about me in your file, your resume, investigation, dossier, what do you call it?
“Ok make it quick.”
Well, like I was saying I knowed this feller once,
trained a crow to cuss.
Randy Fraze was his name. The Crows name was Joe.
Old Joe Crow.
This was back in the fourth grade.
Randy Fraze was out hunting with my other friend Randy Gibson and had shot this Crow.
He ran over and picked up the crow and the Crow was still alive. Randy was going to pull the Crows head off and stopped just a second and looked at the Crow,
the Crow was not trying to get away, or peck Randy, not cawing on scratching or pecking.
He just looked Randy right in the eye.
Randy later said that “the Crow was not afraid or mean either one, he just looked me right in the eye, with no fear at all”
He had real pretty eyes and they just shined.
Randy later told me “I was about to pull his head off and put him in my pocket but stopped as there was something about this crow.” Randy took an immediate liking to the crow.
Randy said “I decided to keep that Crow,
right then and there.
Took him home and put him in a big squirrel cage
I had in my back yard. I fixed it up with limbs and a water bowl
big enough for him to bathe in. And named him Joe.
And so began the story of old Joe Crow.
Randy fed Joe old bread mostly that he got for free at the store, and had him for a while,
when one day Randy looked at Joe and remembered that he’d heard somewhere that crows could be trained to talk.
Randy said that he would carry the trash out for his parents and walked right by Joe’s cage every day and he thought that if he was to train old Joe this was the way to do it.
He said, “every day when I would take the trash out I would stop at Joe’s cage.
I kept a loaf or two of old bread,
{ fresh bread cost .30-.40 back then,}
on top of the cage to feed to old Joe. And even if I was late for school, even if it was raining, no matter what.”
“I would always stop at Joe’s cage and get a piece of bread and say Joe, get fxxxxx, get fxxxxx, get fxxxxx.”
And old Joe never said anything,
so Randy would give him the bread and go on to school.
“I sort of made a religion out of it” he used to say.
Well this was in the fourth grade you remember,
and Randy had given up on Joe ever learning to speak.
Randy just kept on doing this out of habit as he walked by Joe’s cage every day, several times, anyway.
He kept on saying when he would feed Joe,
“Geeeet Fxxxxx!
Get fxxxxx, come on Joe,
get fxxxxx
, throw the bread in and walk off.”
Well one day Randy was late for school as usual,
he walked out to get his bike and go to school
and stopped at Joe’s cage,
it was so easy and was a habit now anyway,
Randy said Joe, here’s your bread boy,
get fxxxxx
and I can remember the look in Randy’s eyes out on our trap line that winter as he told me this.
Randy said:
“Joe jumped on his old limb and ruffled his feathers
and looked right at me and said “GET Fxxxxx!”
And Randy was ecstatic,
he was the most excited kid in the world that morning.
So excited in fact he said “I took the whole loaf of bread
and threw it all!
In Joe’s cage!” And old Joe loved bread!
Randy told me:
“I lined the bottom of old Joe’s cage with bread that morning.
” Joe was happy too and realized instantly what he had done!
He was a smart Crow!
Randy went on to school and told everybody what had happened. That he had trained a crow to cuss, and he had!
All this was in the fifth grade,
and every day after school there would be lots of kids over at Randy’s house admiring old Joe,
every day his driveway would be full of bicycles,
he was the most popular kid in the school.
One day in the fifth grade Randy decided to teach old Joe
something else.
Randy decided after some profound thought,
that if Joe could say two words the next lesson should be four words!
And if “get fxxxxx was so popular”,
the next lesson should be “sxxx my dxxx bxxxx”
Randy told me that this second lesson did not take nearly as long as the first!
Old Joe was catching on and adapting to his new home and life.
So in addition to “Get fxxxxx
” Joe would say “Sxxx my dxxx bxxxx” equally as readily.
Randy was as proud of a kid as I think it was possible to be. Every day Randy’s driveway would be full of bicycles and he was the lion of fifth grade society.
But as all good things come to pass so did old Joe.
One day, Randy’s mother … was going to work,
she was all cleaned up and perfumed,
had her makeup on and her hair groomed,
her eyebrows plucked out and painted back on.
And she was on her way to work,
walking out to her Plymouth with the push button transmition and the biggest tail fins that were ever put on a car.
1961or so?
And Randy’s mother was real churchy,
I mean she made Randy not only go to Sunday school,
but actually made him do his Sunday school homework!
You know she was a fanatic.
And she walked right past old Joe’s cage.
Joe saw her coming and jumped up on his perch ruffled his feathers and looked her right in the eye and said:
“sxxx my dxxx bxxxx!”
Well Joe didn’t know what that actually meant.
Old Joe just wanted some bread.
But unfortunately Randy’s mother did,
and she went crazy!
Randy said to me when he was telling us this story on our trap line that winter.
That he had never seen his mother go crazy before and he was worried about her.
She raved and screamed and raised hell till,
as Randy later told me,
“my dad took me outside like he was going to beat me,
and after Mom went to work.”
“My dad said “Randy I know how much work you have done with old Joe,”
I never thought you would get that d**n crow to say anything.” And I am proud of you. Randy’s dad was cool, {he worked for the phone co.} He went on.
“You have really accomplished something,
training that crow to cuss.
I have never heard of anybody doing that before,
and I am proud of you for it.”
You have really accomplished something!
And you have done good.
“But… you know how women are.” “Your mother doesn’t appreciate things like that and either that crow, old Joe.
Or you and me and Joe too!
All of us! are going to have to move!”
Randy said” Dad I know what you mean.”
“Just give him to Randy Gibson or Greg Cook, or Jack Hamilton.”
Randy said, “no.”
“Dad, old Joe is a good old crow,
and I have been thinking about this for a long time anyway.
” He has earned his freedom.”
I’ll let him go!
He has made me the most popular kid in the school and yes,
Old Joe has earned his freedom.”
Randy told his dad about how he had shot old Joe and almost pulled his head off.” The whole story,
and his dad said how proud he was to have such a good son.
So Randy took old Joe out of his cage one Saturday.
It was cold and overcast
and held him for a long time.
Randy talked to old Joe and gave him all the bread he would eat.
Randy said good bye to old Joe and how he was going to set him free.
How Joe was the best crow any kid ever had.
And how he would never shoot another crow.
I even remember Randy telling me that:
“I don’t care if you shoot a crow Jack,
but I will never shoot another as long as I live,
I promised that to old Joe.”
And as it turned out I never shot another crow either.
Randy took old Joe and petted him and after a few false throws to get Joe ready,
to know he was going to be thrown in the air.
Randy threw old Joe up and later told me that Joe flew up and perched on top of a telephone pole
where the other crows used to sit and caw at him while he was in his cage.
Joe sat on the pole for a long time
and would not fly away.
Randy would say “go on Joe, go on.” But Joe just stayed on top of the telephone pole
and Randy went in the house.
Randy said to me on the trap line later in the winter,”
old Joe would stay on the pole and just sit.
He seemed undecided as what to do.
Randy kept bread on the top of Joe’s cage for a long time,
especially in the winter. Joe stayed around Randy’s house and would fly off but come back, and took to bringing the other crows with him. Old Joe would stay gone longer and longer
till one day he just didn’t come back.
The Story of old Joe Crow
Jack Hamilton as told by Randy Fraze
1961-2
Supplemental to old Joe Crow
One day,
long after Randy had let old Joe Crow go,
as near as I can remember, about two months.
Two of my other friends, Randy Gibson and Greg Cook,
were riding their bicycles down to the 7-11,
the local convenience store.
They went in, and it being a cold Saturday,
as they knew the old guy pretty good,
it was a good place to hang out.
They would eat candy, drink Cokes,
and one of them would keep old Noah busy
while the other would steal shotgun shells.
{One or two out of a box.}
A kid could hunt all day on one or two shells.
Nobody ever noticed or cared anyway.
However old Noah, the manager,
was not his usual friendly self.
“How’s it going Noah!” Greg said.
No response.
“Noah, hi.”
No response.
“Whats the matter?
You fighting with your old lady again?
Grumble Grumble.
Noah! We know we are just kids,
but we are your friends.
Tell us what the problem is,
it might help just get it off your chest. Or you never know,
maybe we can help!
Greg and Randy kept after old Noah for a long time. Finally he opened up and told them what was bothering him so much.
Old Noah said, “nobody can help!
“I’m going home today and shoot myself.”
“ I don’t even own a gun,
and will have to buy one on the way home to shoot myself with!”
“And then my wife will not be able to return it as it will be used,
Everything is just going wrong.”
Old Noah was really disturbed.
“No”, he said, “no one can help!”
I think I am loosing my mind, he went on,
“I was opening up this morning,” “I was pushing the drink box out on the porch, filling it up with ice and cases of cokes,”
“When this big black bird.”
He didn’t know what a crow was.
“This big black bird,
flew down, lit on the drink box,
walked right up to me,
and looked me right in the eye,
and told me to get f**ked !”
Old Noah said.
With a strange far away look in his eye Noah, told Greg and Randy, how when this morning he was pushing the drink box out on the front porch, and was filling it with ice, this big black bird, { He didn’t know what 'Crow' was,}
“ This big black bird flew down, lit on the drink box, walked right up to me, looked me in the eye, and told me to get f**ked!”
“I waved my arms and the bird flew away.”…
“Why are ya’ll laughing”?
They knew instantly what had happened.
They both laughed, and said
“That’s old Joe!!!!!
He’s still around!
And told Noah the story of old Joe Crow, ending the story with the usual, “He just wanted something to eat.”
Noah was so relieved he told them…
“ Ya’ll can have $10.00 dollars worth of anything in the store!
Help your selves!”
That was his whole days pay, back in the late 50’s and early 60’s.
Greg and Randy were happy,
and old Noah did not have to go home and shoot himself,
so he was happy too!
How good to have friends like Randy and Greg!
They had saved old Noahs life!
And they had!
Written 2003
But I have told this story for the last 40 years
Jack W. Hamilton
Randy Gibsons crow would say “Hello Joe.”
And catch Cicadas and eat them, catch them on the wing,
What if the preacher herd the crow cussing!
Gibson and fraze climbed a tall limbless tree and knocked 1-2 crows down with a cane pole.
Opened store up, was pushing drink box out and filling it, with cases of drinks, Nehi’s…
Crow are the smartest bird in the world! Fact!
Noah’you wouldn’t believe it if I told you…..smile
Frazes mom threw brick at crow, and tried to kill it. “What if the fxxxxxx preacher herd that!
Thank you
J. VonKnife