The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1952-11-21
OLD DAYS, OLD FRIENDS
AND OLD HUNTING TRIPS
BY CARLTON NORRIS
(In the Gates County Index


lin the Gates County Index
1t was one of those days that
happens to a man only once in a
lifetime. The weather was not too
hot or too cold and the gentle Au-
tumn sun fell like a benediction
upon our shoulders as we tramped
along.
1t. F. A. Manning, USN of
Norfolk and dear friend of my
youth and his son Billy IA, were
with me as we cut across fields for
day of hunting in the sweet
smelling woods of late Fall. We
paused in the open fields and look
ed at many deer tracks and flush
ed covey of quail. We came to a
ditch and talked over the time
when the Lieutenant was a small
lad and l let him and his brother
jim ride our old mule, Old Tom by
name, and long since gone to the
place where good mules go.
We recalled with keenest nos
talgia, how l made the old mule
jump the ditch and how they fell
to earth when he made his leap.
We fought through the briars
and underground of an old railroad
bed built in World War / and
abandoned 10 these many years.
Robins with their flaming red
breasts played and whispered their
chattering song from every gum
tree. Little grass seed sparrows
fitted across the way and hung
sideways from grass stalks load
ed with seed. 1t was day that
just can't happen, yet it did.
We came to the place where our
mutual friend, Carlos, once shot a
deer and was afraid to tell us for
he thought it was a neighbours
goat. We stopped at the spot where
l once saw a panther and thought
he was dog. We were going
squirrel hunting, but we didn't
care about them hiding, for we
were living once again in our
youth.
We left the old railroad bed and
tramped through the woods on
Bearpen Ridge and we recalled our
many days together. never men
toned World War II to the Lieu
tenant. l knew he had been in
most of the major battles of the
Pacific and his face now smooth
without the show of fatigue that
it wore when I saw him shortly
after the war, was a source of joy
to me and l could not recall those
days for him.
We paused once again at the
fork of Herring Run swamp and
though 1 had told it many times
before, l pointed out the exact
spot where l once shot a buck
with % caliber rifle. 1 told how
1 shot him five times and he got
away, only to be found later by
one of my neighbors.
AS 1 talked we heard a rafting
in the dry leaves that covered the
earth and we turned about to see
the cause thereof. A big buck
with many points on his horns
walked calmly out not Is steps
from where we stood in open
mouth ,amazement. l tried in vain
to find his head in my peep sights
and he turned and faded back in
to the underbrush from whence he
came. l fired ,one wild shot and
Billy shot once and the Lieutenant
only stood there. He bent the trig-
ger on his rifle for he forgot to
release the safety. Many times he
said, had he dreamed of just such
a shot as that buck presented and
always in his dreams, he couldn't
get his gun to fire. Now his dreams
had come true. Solemnly we shook
hands and congratulated each 9th
er for now we were heroes as we
had saved that deer's life. Then ]
stepped a few PAGES ahead and
bent over. l begged them to kick
me until my nose bled. They could
MT miss so broad target, but they
wouldn't do it.
AS we stood there we heard the
wild staccato yelp of a fox. His
voice seemed to hold a great
amount of derision.
For many winters to come as
we sit by the fireside and listen to
the wind as it bowls around the
corners, we will remember the big