Our guest blogger is my friend of many years, Prof. Ronald T. Noyes, PhD (retired), who relates the events of one dark night from his distant past …
By now–you may know that the Noyes Boyes are not your averageoverthehillrunofthemill intellectuals. In fact–there’s nothing average about us.
In fact – (or maybe fiction) — We are known in some circles – and maybe some squares – as serious intellectual anomalies (aka intellectual outliars).
I learned a lot on those long coon hunting weekend nights, out there lying in the grass on a side-hill with my coon hunting colleagues, reveling in the stars, listening to our coon dogs as they explained where they were and why they had not treed their quarry–talking about top coons we’d bagged (catch and release – sometimes we released them before we even caught them). We also talked about bobcats, top coon dogs, top girls, life and other important subjects.
Did I tell you about the night we treed eight (yep – 8) coons in one tree on the south bank of the South Canadian River, just east of West Cedar Creek? I drew the short straw and had the pleasure of climbing the tree and shaking out the coons.
Turned out we had about 1.6 coons per coon-dawg and several of our dogs were novices—one or two were even rookies.
When those coons started hitting the ground, we had dogs and coons going in all directions except— fortunately—north, which would have been heading across the river and potentially into quicksand.
You talk about a fun night – trying to find five dogs chasing eight coons. There was no quit in those dogs, even the pups. Took us almost until first light to round up those feisty hounds.
Of the eight coons I went up the tree to shake out – guess which were the hardest to shake out – you’re very perceptive—the Old Sow and the Old Boar!
They were near the top of the tree. They hadn’t lived through all those coon hunts for naught – The Old Sow had counted the number of Coon Dawgs swarming around the base of the tree, or setting on their coondogs (rumps) baying up into the tree.
They (MA and PA Coon) figured—five dogs and six coon pups. They’d just hang onto the tree limb till the coon pups hit the ground, then the dawgs would scatter, and they could just ease down the tree and mosey off into the river and look for crawdads for their evening snack, whilst the coon pups (they told two of them coon pups to stick together as there weren’t enough dawgs to go around so each coon pup could have their own coon dawg) would get some good OJT that night to help them mature – give them some good dawg ditching experience.
They likely gave the coon pups some coon dawg avoidance and evasiveness instructions when they saw me starting up the tree to do the shaking. “When you pups find a creek with water, run upstream, staying in the water—you can lose the dawgs cause they can’t smell your tracks underwater—then let’s all form up over at Frog and Turtle Pond on West Cedar Creek before first light, have a snack and hit the hay for the day.”
Well, I went to poking Ma and Pa Coon with a long stick. They didn’t much care for that. I had to give them quite a bit more persuading and poking than the coon pups. But they figured there were no coon dogs left below that tree to entertain, so they went flying down that tree. Nothing there to fuss with them, so they ambled off into the bush.
Later, they rendezvoused with the coon pups – we’re just not exactly sure where it may have been at Frog and Turtle – on West Cedar Creek – that was just a wild guess on my part.
From the number of coon tracks I’ve seen around Frog and Turtle Pond, during later fishing trips, I suspect Ma and Pa Coon did frequent the thriving crawdad hole.
We did not succeed in catching any coons that night – it took a lot of miles of walking and calling to catch the coon dogs.
Warmest (102F) Regards.
So there you have it. Anybody else gone coon hunting? Tell us your story, too …