From: mcmurtrey@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: THE HUNTERS DILEMMA
Date: 20 Nov 92 00:01:20 -0600
Organization: University of Northern Iowa

        Greeting, its that time again.   Its 11:30 at night and I'm
beginning to babble.

                        ----------------------

        Back in the hills were I grew up, there is an old hillbilly family
named, the Massey's.  The head of this clan was an old gent, Gid Massey.  Gid
had two favorite pastimes: 1) hunting, and 2) spinning yarns (that's tales to
you and I).  He was in rare form when he could combine the two, and this was
often the case.

        Since hunting was his main pastime, many was the time that he took his
old coon dogs and any nearby able-bodied person on a late night excursion to
search for some illusive animal.  He never did come back empty handed because
he often brought back at least a tale to tell...

        The following was one of the many tales he would tell as he sat on an
old broken down sofa on his front porch.  As a child I can remember nearly
pestering him to death for stories.  He was a master story teller.  His voice,
movements, gestures, and looks bespoke the story even more than the words he
would say.  It was entertainment in its purest form for young and old alike.

        I am sorry that the following is only a pale comparison to Gid's tale. 
This is probably his most famous story, in fact, I'm sure that nearly every
person in Ozark and Douglas county heard him tell it at least once before he
died.

        Be advised, while Gid loved to tell stories, he was never known to lie.


                            THE HUNTERS DILEMMA

        It was the perfect night for a coon hunt (racoon), the moon was full,
and the sky was clear overhead.  There was a bitter nip in the air that some
would call brisk. 

        Around the Massey homestead it was just assumed that a hunt would soon
begin.  The household was a bit crowded since several of the Massey boys had
come home to visit.  For that reason, even the womenfolk were glad for the
excuse to clear the menfolks out of the house since they were underfoot.

        Once Gid had managed to organize the group, there were in all seven or
eight men and half a dozen or so coon dawgs(dogs).  Somehow they managed to fit
everyone (dawgs included) into an old farm truck and off they went in search of
just about any furry critter that might cross their path.  This could be
interpreted to include a few hairy McClareys if the truth were known.

        Gid drove the group back into the Devil's Backbone National forest as
far as possible before unloading.  Being good-natured and resourceful, the lads
had made sure to be well prepared with enough ammo to take over a small country
and a few bottles of the local moonshine to slake their thirst.

        Scouting around the area, the group managed to find a few raccoons and
one lonely coyote to pick on.  

        After tromping around the woods for several hours our intrepid hunters
and their fearless dawgs came across the trail of an old and wise coon.

        For those of you who have never hunted raccoons, a normal racoon is
much like those small and cute critters you see on T.V. or in the zoo, but in
the wild an old white back can grow large enough and mean enough to easily kill
a dog, especially a young dog who hasn't hunted much.  A common trick the coon
will use is to lure a young dog into water were the coon will drown it.

        Before the hunters could stop the dawgs, they were off in pursuit of
the old coon and were soon lost from sight.  It was at this point that the
party decided that they had hunted their fill.  Since Gid and two others in the
party wee getting on in age, they elected to wait in the truck, while the rest
of the men went to catch the dawgs.

        As the three men sat in the truck cab, they began talking and sipping
on the moonshine.  After about 20-30 minutes, the back end of the truck shook
and rattled.  The men assumed that the others had returned with the dawgs and
were clamoring into the back of the truck.  Gid immediately jumped out if all
the dawgs had been caught and why it had taken so long to find them.

        Only when he got out, no one was in the back of the truck.  In fact, he
could see nor hear anyone or anything.  Since the shocks on the old farm truck
were pretty worn out, the back end of the truck still swayed from the shaking
it had taken, but no one was around.  Needless to say the gentlemen were
mighty spooked by the episode and were much relieved when the others finally
returned.

        What could have made the truck jump like that?  Many theories have been
discussed.  Everything from pranks to ghosts to bears have been blamed.  Only I
know that Gid would never hunt alone in that particular section of woods again
after that night.....

        What do you think?




                                                Diana McMurtrey
                                                University of Northern Iowa


P.S.  Have a safe Thanksgiving!!!








        
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