THE LAST TIME I WENT POSSUM HUNTING: In the Ouachita Mountains of West Central Arkansas there was all kinds of wild animals living free and not bothering anybody. I was a normal kid who grew up, learning to hunt hand fish with my dad and his hunting pals. Dont assume for a moment that those brave hunters knew as much as they would have you believe, about animals and their habits and their instincts for survival. I learned more than I wanted to learn by the time I was ten years old. One cold November night, like tonight, I was fooled into going on a night hunt for Raccoons and Possums with daddy and the other men and two of my cousins, who were my age, I had been a time or two before and didnt like it all that much. I hadnt forgotten how unpleasant that other hunt was. I was the youngest and had to bring up the rear in a single file march through the dark woods, through bushes, saplings and tangled undergrowth. The lead man had a kerosene lantern to light his way, and about four men back another man carried another lantern to light the way for the rest of us. There was no one in front of me except daddy, and he told me to stay on his heels. That turned out to be a bad idea. As we walked through the night, trying to keep up with the guys with the lanterns, daddy had to push through low hanging limbs on saplings and bushes. After he pushed through, the limbs snapped back into place just about the time my face arrived, smacking me in the face every time it seemed. I was sick and tired of that and finally one limb caught me in the eye and made me cry. The whole troupe of hunters had to stop while daddy made sure I was not blinded permanently. I needed my own light, like a flash light, but no, they were saving the batteries, and besides they didnt trust me to keep from flashing the light all around, causing the forrest animals to scamper to safety; as if they didnt know we were there already. So, from then on, I walked a step further back of daddy with my arms extended up like a boxer protecting his face from being punched....You should know that this night, that I am telling you about now, didnt t;urn out any better than that previous years, face smacking hunt. So off we went, once again, into the night, with me in the rear, fists and forearms up. Just then, the dogs treed something just over the next ridge. The men could tell that the dogs run something up a tree, by the difference in the sound of the dogs bark when they were barking while looking up a tree. The tenor of the dogs bark changed or perhaps the intensity changed. Sure enough, they all took off in a dead run in the direction of the barking dogs, leaving me alone to stumble thought the darkness, watching the swinging lantern lights up ahead.........Finally, we all arrived and eventually, after failing to spot the animal up in the tree, the lead hunter pointed to a hole in the hollow tree about eight feet from the ground, exclaiming that must be where the animal was hiding. Daddy cut off a small limb about four of five feet long and clipped off the small end, leaving a fork at the tip. Then he shoved that forked stick up that hollow tree until he could feel the limb poke something alive. By twisting the limb, the fork grabbed the hair of the frightened animal as daddy pulled down on the limb, dragging the animal closer to the hole in the tree. That is the best daddy could do with that method. Another brave hunter got the bright idea of putting on two Mule Hide Brand, leather work gloves on the same hand in order to reach up the hollow tree and grab the animal by the tail and pull him out. No one volunteered for that opportunity, so daddy volunteered me. He put me on his shoulders and with two leather gloves on my hand, I reached up in that a hollow tree, feeling for that frightened creature. Daddy told me to grab its tail and pull him out. I felt no tail. But when I did feel something, it bit down on my middle finger, hard !!!....Then I pulled down in a panic, not knowing if my finger wild come along with my hand. Sure enough it was a Possum. That night I learned that a Possum does not go in a hole in a hollow tree, face first. No ! They climb up a hollow tree backwards, so as to meet any challenge that dares to enter that hole, teeth first....That night was the last time I ever went night hunting.......I for one, did not think that whole thing was as funny as the rest of our troupe thought it was....Evidently, most of the night hunters have died out or lost interest walking and running blindly through the woods at night, and sticking their hands up in hollow trees.....
Posted on: Mon, 01 Dec 2014 03:11:58 +0000
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