Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-12-06
Hunting the Coon.

ihere Is but one way Of hunting the
coon. Hunted only at night, to follow
him the boldest rider must dismount. vet
ne Who risks neck and limbs, or mel.s or
freezes for sports sake, and deems no sport
manly that has not spice of danger or
discomfort in it, must not despise this hum
| BILE pastime for such reason.
On leaving the highway that leads near
est to the hunting-ground, the way of the
| coon hunters takes them, in darkness or
feeble lantern light, over rough and uncer-
tain, footing, till the corn fields edge is
reached and the dogs cast off, Away go
| the hounds, their course only indicated by
| the rustling of the corn leaves as they
range through the field, until one old truth
| teller gives tongue on the trail of Br'er
Coon, who. perhaps, has brought his whole
family out on a nocturnal picnic. The
hounds sweep straight away, in full cry,
on the hot scent to hill or swamp, where
their steadfast baying proclaims that the
game is freed.
The follows pell-mell scramble toward
the musical uproar. Stones, cradle knobs,
logs, stumps, mud holes, brambles and all
the inanimate enemies that lie in wait for
man when he hastens in the dark, combine
to trap, bump, bruise, sprain, scratch and
bemire the hurrying hunters.
Then when all have gathered at the CEN
ter of attraction, where the excited hounds
are raving about the boil of some great
tree, the best and boldest climber volun-
teers to go aloft into the upper darkness
and shake the quarry down or shoot him
if may be. If he succeeds in accomplish
ing the difficult task, what a melee ensues
when the coon crashes through the branches
to the ground and becomes the cratic
center of the wild huddle of dogs and men.
Fewer voices never broke the stiffness of
night with sounds more unearthly than
the medley of raging, yelping and growl-
ing, cheering and vociferous orders given
forth by dogs, coon ard hunters, while
hillside and woodland toss to and fro a
more discordant badinage of echo.
The coon is not great beast, but a
tough and sharp-toothed one, who carries
beneath his gray coat and fat ribs stout
heart and wonderful vitality; and tussle
with veteran of the tribe of corn-feld
robbers tests the pluck Of dogs and the
GOODNESS of men.
If the coon takes refuge in tree too
tall and limbless for his pursuers to climb,
there is nothing for them but to keep
watch and ward till daylight discovers
him crouched in his lofty perch.
A huge fire enlivens the long hours of
guard-keeping. A foraging party repairs
to the nearest corn-6eld for roasting ears,
and the hunters shorten the slow night
tide with munching scorched corn, sauced
by joke and song and tales of the coon
hunts of by-gone years.
The waning moon throbs into view above
serrated Interest, then climbs the sky,
while heshadows draw eastward, then pales
in the dawn, and when it is blotch of
white cloud in the zenith, sunrise gun
welcomes day and brings the coon tumbling
to earth. Or, perhaps not coon, but some
vagrant house cat, is the poor reward of
the long watch. Then the weary hunters
plod homeward to breakfast and the nail
ing of their trophies to the barn door.
When the sweet acorns, dropping in the
frosty night, tempt the coon to later feast,
there is as good sport and primer peltry.
In any of the nights wherein this sport
may be pursued, the man of lazy mold and
contemplative mind loves best the hunt
deemed unsuccessful by the more ardent
hunters, when the hounds strike the trail of
wandering fox and carry the tide of wild
music, flooding and ebbing our valley and
hilltop, while the indolent hunter reclines
at ease, smoking his pipe and listening,
content to let more ambitious hunters
stumble over lodges and wallow through
swamps in pursuit of the elusive COON
Forest and Stream.