About 'Coon Hunting

By Tom Jeffries
See also the Jun '07 entry Doesn’t A Coon Coat Look Good?

How It Began

Raccoon hunting is a sport enjoyed throughout almost all of West Virginia as well as many other states. This pastime had its beginnings as a necessity by our pioneer ancestors to utilize all of the resources available for survival in the wilderness. The fur of the raccoon was made into crude coats, as well as the famous “Davy Crocket” caps. As the years passed and manufactured goods became available, the hunting of fur animals continued on a lesser scale. The raw hides were sold to traders for shipment to processing plants to be made into fashionable fur coats. Gradually, the demand for warm clothing was met by cheaper and perhaps better synthetics. The price of fur became so low that few people still hunted the raccoon. Those who did so continued because they loved the sport.

To the right is the auther's grandfather, T.E. Jeffries, taken about 1900.

I Learn To Hunt

I was one of those novice coon hunters who was thrilled by walking through the woods in the dead of night, listening for the sounds of the dogs as they trailed and treed. I also liked the companionship and conversation with hunting partners on the sometimes long treks through the hills and hollows of Clover Fork, Oil Creek, and Three Lick.

I began to participate in this sport in the late 1960’s during my frequent visits to my parents’ home on Oil Creek. My father, Coleman Jeffries, had started to coon hunt with a couple of his coworkers on the railroad. While I had enjoyed hunting squirrels, deer, groundhogs, and rabbits, I had never hunted coons. I was invited to go along a couple of times, but I declined the first invitations. After a little persuasion and hearing of some of dad’s hunting tales, I decided to go along. I don’t remember any of the details of that first hunt, but I must have enjoyed it because I never missed an opportunity to go coon hunting after that night.

The Hunt

Normally, a coon hunt begins about a hour after dark since a raccoon is a nocturnal forager and sleeps in a hollow tree during the daylight hours. I have seen raccoons abroad as early as 4 P.M. on very cloudy and overcast days, but normally they don’t venture out until dusk. They like to visit small streams to forage for crayfish, minnows, and other creatures that inhabit those areas. Coons also will eat wild fruits, berries, persimmons, etc. They are especially fond of sweet corn and field corn when it is in the “milk” stage of development. Coons often travel miles across the ridges and hollows in search of food. The coon hunter takes advantage of these habits by releasing his hunting dogs in these areas and allowing them to range about him as he walks up a “run” or a creek. During the late summer and early fall the law allows the training of dogs, but not the killing of any raccoons. During this time the hunter will often visit a cornfield and allow his dogs to roam through it in hope of “striking” the scent trail left by the raccoon as he fed or passed through the area.

Most of the time, the raccoon or raccoons will hear the hunters and dogs as they move into the area and will retreat to a safe tree to wait until the danger has past. When the dogs move into the area, they will detect the scent of the raccoon and somehow establish in which direction the animal is moving. The dogs will then bark or bawl in their own particular way and continue to make “hound music” until they follow the raccoon to the tree in which it has found refuge. When the dogs reach the tree where the raccoon has hidden, they will (if they are good hounds) sit or stand at the base of the tree and bark until the hunter arrives. The hunter will then search the tree with his light until he finds where the raccoon is hiding. Sometimes it can be very difficult to find the hiding place especially in late summer and early fall when the trees still have their leaves. Often the only way to find coons is by seeing the yellow reflection of their eyes in the light.

If the raccoon season is open, sometimes the hunter will dispatch the coon by shooting it. When the coon falls from the tree, the dogs will immediately attack the raccoon and shake it vigorously unless they are restrained by a leash. The dogs are petted, encouraged and congratulated by their owners and any others present and then led well away from the tree to begin the hunt for another raccoon. Some dogs develop the bad habit of returning to the tree even after being led several hundred yards away. That makes it necessary to return to the tree to retrieve the dog! Most coon dogs cannot be “called” off a tree but instead have to be led away.

The Coon Hound

Coon dogs are usually of one of six or seven hound breeds. They include the Redbone, Bluetick, Black & Tan, Plott, Redtick,Walker and Mountain Curs, as well as various mixed breed dogs. Most of these varieties are recognized by the United Kennel Club and a couple by the American Kennel Club. It is my understanding that most of coon dogs are American breeds which were developed from the English foxhound breeds. The ancestors of the coon dogs of today are from foxhounds that had a natural tendency to “bay” or bark at a treed animals. I am not partial to any breed, but admire any well trained coon dog.

Thanks to Charlotte McCauley for this photo of coon dogs on Clover Fork.

Below are several breeds of 'coon hounds: Black & Tan, Redbone, Blue Tick, Red Tick and Mountain Cur.

Training the Dogs

The training of coon dogs involves a lot of long nights in the woods and trainers sometimes make many mistakes in the process. Young dogs are often taken into the woods with other trained dogs when they are as young as six months. They learn to follow the older dogs and have a natural instinct to track. Over a period of time and with experience some will learn to trail and tree with the old dogs. At that point in their training, the trainer must separate them from the older dogs and hunt them by themselves. Some will learn to run and tree by themselves and others never are able to do it themselves. During the training, the dogs often learn bad habits such as trailing and running animals other than raccoons such as foxes, opossums and house cats. They must be trained not to trail these animals. There are various methods that many employ to do this, but two of which I became aware are at least somewhat amusing. I don’t know if they are effective.

One of the methods that I have heard used to cure a hound from trailing deer is as follows: buy a billy goat, and with a chain about 6 feet long, tie the collar of the dog to a collar on the goat and allow the two animals to live together for a couple of weeks. It is said that the scent of the goat is so similar to the smell of a deer that the dog will become so turned off to that scent that he will never trail a deer again. And, I am sure that the goat butting him from time to time during the ordeal helps the cure the problem also!

A method I have heard of that is used to cure or break a dog from running foxes is a little different. A two level cage is built big enough for a dog to live in. One-half inch chicken wire is used to separate the lower level of the cage from the upper level. Then the coon dog trainer needs to obtain a fox and confine it in the upper level of the two level cage over the dog in the lower level. After a week or so of the fox’s defecating and urinating on the dog, the dog will become physically ill when he smells a fox! I am told by a reliable source that two hunters did this many years ago. One night they took the dog out of the bottom of the cage to take him hunting and they were both bitten when they attempted to return the dog to the cage after the hunt. It was not reported if the dog ever ran a fox again.

Memorable Hunts

My father and I often hunted with “Short” Riffle who was a long time resident of Clover Fork. Short knew everyone that lived in the area and had no trouble obtaining permission to hunt from anyone who owned property. Most of the time he would arrange where we would hunt on that night and we would arrive at our drop off point about an hour after dusk. Short Riffle believed from years of hunting that the best way to hunt was to climb to the top of the hill and to walk the ridges. He believed that a foraging raccoon would have to cross over these high areas as he moved through the woods looking for food. He often led us to areas of which I was totally unfamiliar, but Short could often see familiar house lights in the valleys and identify those as being at a particular family’s residence. He used those as landmarks as well as the natural lay of the land. He normally never got us lost, although on one very dark and foggy night we came out of the woods two miles from where the truck was parked. Our travels would sometimes take us miles on the ridges of Clover Fork, Knawl’s Creek, Redlick and sometimes over into the upper Oil creek area. We also often hunted around the area of the railroad tunnel at Chapman.

Short Riffle’s Coon Dogs

Short had several dogs over the years, but the one that he mentioned most often was called “Old Huck” or properly “The Huckleberry Hound” which he told us was named by his Granddaughter. He bought Old Huck as a pup and trained the dog himself. Most of the coon hunters that I knew trained their own dogs because a really good dog was very expensive and difficult to obtain at any price. Short later obtained another pup to train by hunting him with Old Huck. When he thought that this dog was trained, I believe that he sold Old Huck. Short was disappointed to find that the younger dog was not nearly as good as Old Huck. We had a difficult time treeing coons after Old Huck was sold. We also hunted with Dad’s young Bluetick hound named “Abe” that was not completely trained.

Dad and I Buy a Coon Dog

After a season or so of somewhat unsuccessful hunts, Dad and I decided to try to buy a trained dog. Dad ordered a dog from another state. After the dog arrived, we tried to hunt coons with the new dog only to discover that he too was a sorry excuse for a coon hound! Shortly afterward, I bought a hound from a friend that I knew to be a fair coon dog. I brought my new dog to Dad’s on a weekend in the early spring. On Saturday night, we hunted on Clover Fork in the hollow behind Jim Henline’s home. After an hour or so the dog struck a trail and after a while barked “treed.” Dad and Short were somewhat dubious of the dog’s abilities until they saw the raccoon in the tree. After that, they were some very happy hunters! That dog’s name was “Blue” and I sold her to Dad who kept her until she died.

With the 'coon dog in the photo to the left is the author Tom Jeffries.

We Caught the Devil

We had a great many hunts over the years, but one I remember most was the night we were hunting in the Chapman area. We had hunted a couple of hours but had not struck any tracks. Suddenly, Blue bawled and continued to bark and bawl at a frantic pace with the other dogs also joining in the chase. I believed that there was something more than usual to this chase. The dogs’ barking seemed more like they were chasing the devil than a coon. The three of us sat down to wait to see what was going to transpire. The chase came very close to where we were sitting and the animal ran past us about 40 feet away with the hounds in hot pursuit. Not long afterward the animal climbed into a nearby pine tree and the dogs bayed at the base of the tree. We spent a long time searching the tree for the creature before I saw the reflection of one eye. I shot at that eye with my scoped .22 pistol. The animal fell from the tree quite dead. That was a very good thing because it was a young bobcat! With its long and sharp claws that young devil would have probably injured the dogs if it had been alive when it hit the ground!

I Still Reminisce

All too soon, time and age overcome everyone. My father and my friend Short are long gone, as are all of the dogs involved in those adventures. The responsibilities of work and raising a family took the place of long nights in the woods and on the ridges of Clover Fork and Oil Creek Disease and age also have overtaken the writer, but the memories remain.

Sometimes in my dreams I can still hear the bawls of the hounds and hear the voices of my hunting companions.

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Comments

comment 1

Short's real name was George Lester Riffle (1917-1983). He was the son of Oscar L. and Rosetta (Groff) Riffle. Short served in World War II. He was a maintenance of way worker for the B & O.

Short married Phebe Posey. Phebe nearly died while Short was away in the service. Phebe, who lived on Clover Fork, had come to town and picked up her mail. Among the mail Phebe received that day was a letter from her husband, Short Riffle, who was away during World War II and who had not written for a while. Phebe starting reading the letter as she walked up the railroad tracks to her home on Clover Fork. Engrossed in the letter she was reading, Phebe did not hear the train coming behind her. Unfortunately, the train struck Phebe and ripped an arm off her body. The injury was grievous and was believed to be fatal. Phebe was rushed to the hospital but there was little hope that she would survive. Phebe’s arm was taken to Mike Moran who was expected to bury the arm with Phebe when she died from her wounds. Miraculously, Phebe survived her brush with death. The story can be found in the Feb '07 entry
Michael Vincent Moran

Doesn’t A Coon Coat Look Good?

by David Parmer

We have no photos related to Orlando coon hunting, but David Parmer chose the three stock photos in this entry to demonstrate how it was: the dog with two raccoons to the left, the skins drying on the side of an out building, below left, and bottom right, the dog posed in front of several drying skins.

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At college football games in the 1920s and 1930s, the fashionable look for college kids, men or women, was a long, nearly dragging-the-ground, raccoon coat. The coon coat was fluffy and warm to keep out the cold, with nice big pockets to conceal the flask of illegal booze, and besides that, it really looked good! The coon coat craze lasted for over twenty years and provided a nice cash crop for many Orlando area hunters during the 1920s and 1930s.

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It seems hunting has always been a favorite pastime of Orlando men. Nearly every home in the 1920s and 1930s in the Oil Creek valley had a good coon dog, or two, or more. And every fall or winter night, even half-fitting, was a good coon night. The dogs were always raring to go, and there was no shortage of hunters to search for and kill the crafty coon.

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Good coon dogs are a treasure to coon hunters. Orlando hunters did not appear to have a favorite coon dog. Some hunters preferred the black and tan, and others preferred the redbone, while others favored the blue tick. Actually, according to Dale Barnett, “Any good squirrel dog can make a good coon dog, and even cow dogs, terriers, or spaniels can chase coon successfully”

There is nothing more exasperating than a poor coon dog. Orlando men have been known to shell out many precious dollars for a “tried and true” coon dog. The allure of a “good coon dog” raised out of state was enticing. Helen Jeffries recalls that her late husband Coleman Jeffries paid over $200 for a coon dog from Oklahoma plus express shipping costs, including the costs when the dog was first sent in error to Kentucky by the freight company. When asked if the dog was a “good coon dog,” Helen replied that it was a “doozy in the absolutely worst way.” She further elaborated that the dog was a fraud and could not follow a scent. After one totally disastrous hunt the dog ended up being found on the “other side of Burnsville.” “It was a total waste of money,” Helen added, and she, by a stinging letter, let the seller of the dog know that “the Devil was waiting on him.”

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Please click on each of these three newspaper ads for hunting dogs; one each from Oklahoma, Illinois and Ohio.

After the day’s chores were done and the evening meals were eaten, Orlando farmers became Orlando hunters. As darkness fell, and the coon dogs became edgy, Orlando men and boys became night stalkers of the coon. Coons seemed always to be plentiful. In the winter, coons don a rich thick fur, so winter hunts are the most rewarding to Orlando men when the pelts were exchanged for cash. According to Dale Barnett, coon and mink pelts were the top pelts for fur buyers. In the 1930s, a good female raccoon or mink pelt brought as much as ten to twelve dollars. This was quite a bit of money for a Depression-poor Orlando farmer.

Dale Barnett’s father, Bill Barnett, was a buyer of furs. From his home in Orlando , Bill would buy and pay cash for all sorts of furs. Rabbit, opossum, skunk, weasel, muskrat, fox, mink, or raccoon pelts were all readily marketable. Dale Barnett recalls that his father would store his prized pelts, mink and raccoon, in his house or cellar house so they would be well-secured. Most of the other pelts would be stored in outbuildings. Periodically, especially during the fall and winter, fur buyers would visit Bill Barnett and buy all the furs he had. Two of the area fur buyers Dale Barnett recalls were Clay Thompson of Burnsville and Ira Myers of Weston, formerly of Walkersville. The large national concerns of Sears, Roebuck and Company and Montgomery Ward also were eager to buy quality pelts, especially coon and mink, which would be made into luxurious and fashionable coats for sale in their stores and from their catalogs.

Now, to the hunt. The dogs are straining at the leashes and barking and clawing the ground and more than ready to go. They are loosed from their chains. The pent-up energy of the dogs overwhelms the ability of the hunters to keep up with their four-legged companions. The hunters know this and just follow at a leisurely pace in the same general direction the dogs take. The hunters are keen to listen for the distinctive baying sound indicating a treed coon. The coons though have other ideas.

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Bruce Brannon made the folk sculpture to the right and his daughter Joyce Carole Brannon shares it with us. (Bruce Brannon was the husband of Olive Henline, see the June '07 entry The Buzzardtown Tongue Twisters )

The baying of the dogs perk up the ears of the wily, but slow-moving coon. The coon, motivated by the unwelcome sounds of the dogs, commences its often-futile search for an escape. The coon seems to fix the location of the dogs and begins its evasive actions of leading false trails, circular in shape. What dogs lack in wile, they often make up for in endurance and persistence. But, sometimes, not. Charles Bennett of Clover Fork, a frequent hunting companion of Short Riffle, recounts a hunting experience involving many hours and many miles over the hills of Clover Fork and into the “Booger Hole” section of Knawl’s Creek. Charles became concerned that he had passed through the same grape thicket several times before, which, to Charles, meant they were going around in circles. Charles pointed out to Short the lights of a house in the valley below which they had passed each time they passed the same grape vine thicket. Finally, Charles convinced Short where they were and whose house it was and that they were going in circles. The wily coon had lead them into an unfruitful chase. In his analysis of the hunt, Charles concluded that Short “would get lost in his own back yard.” On this hunt, the coon had prevailed, to live again another day.

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Coon hunters are of all ages, from youngsters to grandparents. Dale Barnett recalls several coon hunters when he was growing up in Orlando. Among those nimrods of the night were Frank Stutler, Cecil Skinner, Ed McNemar, and Marion Wymer. Two other coon hunters identified by Uncle Zeke in a 1931 column were O. L. Stutler and O. B. Heater who “caught a rousing big coon.” The late Coleman Jeffries, who lived two miles north of Orlando on the Oil Creek road, coon hunted into his late seventies. His loss of hearing, more than loss of physical stamina, was the cause of the end of his coon hunting days. His main hunting companions, Arthur Williams and Short Riffle, were also of senior citizen status. Their favorite hunting grounds were the Clover Fork area and the “ Free State ” area of Three Lick. Everyone is familiar with Clover Fork and knows its range. The “Free State” area may be a term unfamiliar with all but the oldest of Orlando residents. The “ Free State ” was a large tract of land consisting of over 1300 acres, well-watered, and stretched from the Three Lick area to the head of Posey Run. This land was owned, it is said, by an absentee landlord from the Philadelphia area, who paid the taxes on the land, but did little else to develop it. Hunters could range at will on the land, not worrying about “No Hunting” signs, or livestock to worry, hence the name “Free State.” The land was mostly wooded until The Koppers Company purchased most of the timber after World War II and the Leech Company finished up the logging in the 1950s. Huge poplar trees, with the first limbs 75 feet from the ground, and tremendous hickory trees and oaks providing mast covered the “Free State” and provided cover and food for all sorts of wild animals. And, was it ever good coon hunting territory! The old time hunters were familiar with the terrain and the haunts of old “Charlie Coon” in the “Free State” area and hunted successfully there for years.

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Pictured are coon hunters: upper right Coleman Jeffries, center left Frank Stutler (b. 1911) and immediately right, Oras L. Stutler (1896-1868).

Some coon hunts end up with unexpected results. Tom Jeffries was hunting one night with his father Coleman Jeffries and Short Riffle on Clover Fork. After a long hunt, the dogs treed and began baying, bringing the hunters to the tall oak where the animal was cornered. The beam of the flashlight revealed that the dogs had not treed a coon but rather a large bobcat which was brought to earth by a long barreled .22 pistol.

A good dog barks, and barks loud. Once a coon realizes that it cannot escape by circling or making false trails it will go to tree. Once treed, the bark of the dog changes and is recognized by the hunter that his dogs had treed the coon. Dogs can’t climb trees to catch the treed coon and the master of the dog is required to administer the coup de grace to the unlucky coon.

After the coon takes its final plunge to the ground the first step toward being a nice fur coat is accomplished. Dale Barnett advised that the coon pelt is generally dried by tacking it to the barn wall. The same procedure is used with mink. Other pelts are often tacked to a stretching board until dry.

During the dark days of the Depression, many Orlando residents, in addition to the pleasure of the hunt, were able to supplement their meager incomes by the sale of furs of coon, mink, and other creatures. It was a true cash crop. And, each time Rudy Vallee, in his long coon coat, with his megaphone, began singing “Winchester Cathedral,” who knows, his nice coon coat might have come from Clover Fork or the “Free State.”

Arch A. Riffle – Orlando Nimrod and Groundhog Nemesis

by David Parmer

The favorite pastime of Orlando men without question was hunting. Today hunting is considered somewhat of a “sport” or “recreation.” In Orlando’s early days, hunting was considered more “putting food on the table” than a sport.

When we think of hunting, deer is the first animal which comes to mind. However, deer in the early part of the last century were scarce around Orlando. Farmers who earned their livelihood from the raising of crops could not allow the voracious appetites of ravenous deer take food from their tables. Deer as a result lived short lives around Orlando and were in fact scarcely seen.

Groundhog photo by Robert McCaw.

Large families were the rule during the early days of Orlando and it was always a struggle to keep food on the table for a large family. Generally the only domestic meat protein which found its way onto the Orlando table was pork. Most families raised swine and perhaps sheep; few however raised beef cattle. In order to make the family pork or lamb last the winter careful rationing was required. Still with a large family, a butchered hog or lamb could only go so far.

In the early 20th century, an animal which was plentiful as well as edible was the groundhog. Many Orlando families supplemented their meager supply of meat protein with groundhog.

Preparing Groundhog for the Table
Properly prepared, groundhog is as tasty and nourishing as any other meat. Orlando women prepared groundhog routinely as they would any other wild animal meat. It was however, first necessary to remove the scent glands, or “kernels” from the back and under the forearms from the groundhog to avoid the unpleasant taste of the glands. Some families allowed the groundhog to age a few days before using. Some preparers soaked groundhog in salted water to remove any “wild” flavor from the meat. Groundhog could be prepared by cooking in water or frying. Either way it was a tasty dish for the Orlando table surrounded by hungry children.

About Arch Riffle
Perhaps the most prolific hunter of the groundhog in the history of Orlando was Arch A. Riffle of Three Lick. Arch Riffle was the son of Jacob Isaac Riffle and Matilda Riffle and was born on Clover Fork in 1885. Arch was from a very large family of around twenty children, give or take a few. Food, no doubt, was always in short supply on the family table. Arch learned from a young age to hunt wild game to supplement the Riffle’s meager rations. Clover Fork was mostly grazing country with a few hilltop and bottom land crops thrown in. This was ideal country for the groundhog and they were plentiful. Arch developed a taste for groundhog growing up and continued that tradition as he grew older.

Arch married Minnie Blake and began raising his family of nine children on Three Lick. Arch lived on a farm owned by Mike Moran as a sharecropper of sorts about a mile or so from Orlando. Arch worked for a short time for the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad but mostly he was a farmer and a hunter. Groundhog was his specialty.

Arch ranged many miles to hunt the groundhog. Since he never learned to operate an automobile, he was always afoot. His son Leo relates that Arch would go many miles in a day hunting. On one hunting day Leo recalls that his dad went as far as Long Shoal in Gilmer County before turning back for home.

Arch hunted with his mongrel dog which was an excellent seeker and hunter of groundhogs. After his dog put the groundhog to hole, Arch would dig the groundhog from its burrow and dispatch it with his Winchester pump .22 caliber rifle he bought from Marple’s Store in Burnsville. This rifle is still in family ownership today. Arch was also an excellent shooter and often could forego the digging part of the hunt by his accurate marksmanship.

Uncle Zeke's Observations
Arch Riffle’s reputation as a hunter was spread far and wide by P. N. Blake who wrote the Buzzardtown News as “Uncle Zeke” for the Braxton Democrat newspaper. Uncle Zeke may have exaggerated his tales a mite to make them even more interesting. In his column of October 10, 1927 , Uncle Zeke bragged that Arch and the Posey boys had killed 162 groundhogs so far that year. The Posey boys were Arch’s brothers in law. About a month later, Uncle Zeke reported that the groundhog kill total was up to 177 and that Arch hoped to make it 200 by year’s end. In a 1924 column, Uncle Zeke remarked that “since Arch Riffle’s hen has refused to set he wants to know if it would be all right to set a groundhog on the eggs.” Later in the same year, Uncle Zeke reported that “Arch Riffle says he is going to buy a new Ford this summer if he can catch enough groundhogs to pay for one.” Uncle Zeke also reported that Arch had complained that since he went to work for the railroad “he was three days behind in his groundhog hunting.” Arch did not hunt groundhogs exclusively. Uncle Zeke also reported in 1924 that “Arch Riffle says he got enough gasoline out of one polecat last week to run a Ford to Halifax”.

Arch Riffle was not however the only nimrod in the Orlando area when it came to groundhog hunting. Uncle Zeke also reported a great battle between the furry creature and J. R. Posey of Buzzardtown. Uncle Zeke told the public that “a large groundhog declared war on J. R. Posey the other day. After a fierce battle, J. R., with the dexterity of David, landed a stone on Mr. G. Hog’s forehead and laid him out for dead”.

Advancing age and financial necessity came to Arch Riffle and he left the area of his birth to live out the rest of his days in the smoky city of Parkersburg where his children had gone for work and to raise their families. There is no doubt Arch missed the sunny days of scouting the hills of Braxton and Lewis County for his arch nemesis, the groundhog, and the taste of groundhog pie.

Arch died in 1970 at the age of 85 and was laid to rest in the Mitchell Cemetery on Clover Fork in prime groundhog territory.

Note: Nimrod was the great-grandson of Noah and he was a mighty hunter. (Genesis 10:8-10)


For more on preparing small wildife for the table see the Sept '06 entry Squirrel for Dinner

Fishing In Oil Creek

To the right is a photo from the early 1930s with Nelson and Stanley Mitchell (Homer and Lula (Henline) Mitchell 's boys) showing a fish they caught in Oil Creek.

This photo was a surprise to me because, since Oil Creek sometimes drys up, I didn't think fish would live there. David and Barbara (Jeffries) Parmer assure me that is not the case.

David says, "I have fished Oil Creek many times particularly when my in laws still owned the farm on Oil Creek above Orlando. I often fished Oil Creek right in Orlando and had good luck each time I fished it. You would be surprised what you can catch from such a little creek. I recall fishing one night by the light of a burning tire on Oil Creek and caught several catfish and assorted other fish. At the bend in Oil Creek just past the trestle I caught a bass which was perhaps 17 inches long. I considered fishing a great success that day. "

In an earlier entry about Heater Henline Barbara (Jeffries) Parmer remembered "on heat-shimmery summer afternoons he'd take his fishing pole in hand and say “Think I’ll go up the crick”. After awhile, he would return with what he called “a mess of fish”—suckers and “baccer boxes1”—which my aunt or grandmother would fix for breakfast the next day.

Dave Hyre also remembers fishing on Oil Creek. "My first fishing experience was along Oil Creek a Burnsville, I loved it! I had no reel, just a thin bamboo pole with a stung line, hook, and plastic bobber. Bait was worms. Murky water, but the excitement of that bamboo pole bending to the tug of a bite was magic. Cat fish and "bacca boxes" were a typical day's excitment.

1. Sunfish were called "baccer boxs" because there are about the size of a tobacco box. See the entry on March 12 '06 Prince Albert in the Can

Squirrel for Dinner

Hunting game is a part of our heritage that remains strong1. Deer and squirrel are two popular prey. I'd think wild turkey would be, too, but I haven't heard that it is.

Bill Beckner likes that squirrel hunting comes before deer hunting in the fall. In addition to the chance to be out in the wild and the good food squirrel hunting provides, it's good target practice for deer hunting.

This photo from the internet illustrates how the squirrel is fried.

Here is Bill Beckner's recipe for squirrel. Bill cuts the critter into chicken-like pieces and par-boils it to make it tender. Then he goes ahead just like fried chicken. He coats it with four and browns it in a medium high skillet and seasons it with salt and pepper. When it's all crispy brown, he puts a lid on, turns down the heat and lets it cook till it's almost falling off the bone.
Bill makes gravy by thickening the liquid the squirrel was parboiled in.

Just a quick word about "the best part:" a great delicacy for Bill's grandma, Josie Beckner, were the brains. She loved breaded, sauted squirrel brains. This put an extra but welcomed burden on grandson Bill. The standard way to kill a squirrel was to blow its brains out: quick and painless a death as can be. But if he was going to bring home brains for his grandma, Bill had to shoot the squirrels in their body, squarely enough so they didn't suffer. Fortunately, Bill is a very good shot.

Now here is a quite different approach to squirrel, which shows just how versatile squirrel can be. This is not from and Orlando hunter but a hunter from the Hacker's Creek Pioneer Descendants (Don't have his name, but his e-mail "handle" is "Steel78") He offered the following recipe: "The only way we fixed rabbit and squirrel was to drop them off to a neighbor lady, and the next day or so, she sent a cherry pie over. I recommend it."

Going Gigging for Frogs

One time, just one time during all the summers we went to Orlando, I remember grandpa going out with his buddies of an evening. It was all so hush-hush I thought it was illegal. Maybe it was. It was way after dark that the preparations were being made in my grandparents' big county kitchen and they involved flashlights, hipboots and spears (the gigs). When I pestered my folks for information I was told that grandpa was going gigging for frogs. I remember that the next day I thoroughly enjoyed those unbelievably sweet, mild, flavorful, tender little delicacies.

For a first person account of a gigging expedition, see Clementine James' story at http://www.dartreview.com/issues/11.12.01/gigging.html Clementine says, "Gigging is a dying sport. While it used to be a common practice, few hunt anymore. For its fellowship, its challenge, and its cuisine, frog gigging is unsurpassed." 1

This is how I remember froglegs being prepared. It is similar to Clementine's receipe. Dip the cut and skinned legs in egg yolk and then flour. Saute them in a skillet in lots of butter and season lightly to taste. Have them nicely browned, but don't overcook.

1. The Dartmouth Review Nov 21, 2001. "The Joys of Frog Gigging" by Clementine James
http://www.dartreview.com/issues/11.12.01/gigging.html