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Main Boards => PowWow => Topic started by: jerry hill on March 11, 2010, 12:44:00 PM
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The year was 1964. I was 16 years old at the time. I had bought my first car, a 1950 2 door plymouth coupe, for $10.00. I had rebuilt the flat head v6 motor myself and put in a new pressure plate & clutch as well. Went to a local O.K. Rubber tire store that dealed in recaps and bought two mud & snow grip tires for the back and two regular street tires for the front.Since the car didn't have a front bumper, I went to the saw mill and got me a 2X8 ruff cut red oak board, and made myself a front bumper.I hand sanded the car and painted it with a brush using some red lead paint daddy had brought home to me from a construction job. A few days later, i was driving south on Hwy 25 out of Wilsonville, my home town.I was headed to a stream and beaver pond located across the road from Old Chapel Methodist church. This stream and beaver pond had been there for many years. It was known for its large cottonmouth snakes. It too was a favorite hunting ground of H.Hill when he was a young boy.While driving there I had the 6 volt AM radio on, listening to B.J. Thomas singing his new hit,"THE EYES OF A NEW YORK WOMEN". As I drove along I sang along with him. Never was much of a singer, but since I was alone, what the heck, it didn't matter. The type of radio that was in this car had a vibrator inside,that once turned on made a buzzing sound, like it had a rattlesnake inside. Once it buzzed for a short while, it would warm up the radio tubes and then the radio would really put out the sound through the front and rear 6X9 speakers.
Th sun was shining brightly as I pulled up behind a farmers barn to park the car. Parking here would put me upstream, but not far from where I was headed. I had plans to shoot some carp or gar fish and possibly a snake or two.I entered the small stream a short distance up from the main pond and procided downstream slowly. As I neared the main beaver pond, I was now surrounded by cattails,when I saw three mallard ducks fly in and land on the water. I dropped to my knees and began to crawl in the water, going ever so slow. I hadn't crawled to far, until I came unpon a log floating in the water. I was watching to see where the ducks were and could see the water ripple from time to time and new they were not to much farther. All of a sudden I had a feeling come over me. There in front of my face, no more than four feet,I was looking down the throat of a large cottonmouth snake, laying on top of the floating log, ready to strike me.His jaws were wide open and it looked like a ball of cotton. His fangs were pearly white and seemed to shine in the sunlight. At first I thought I was going to get bit in the face. I froze my position and the snake held his. After a second or two went by, I decided I would ease back slowly as it would mess up my chances at the ducks, if I tried a shot at him. I whispered to the snake, "Hello and Goodbye old fellow". After moving back a little, I continued my crawl in the swamp water in the direction of the ducks. I looked back over my shoulder more than once to make sure that, that old snake stayed put. Finally my chance was at hand. I rose to my feet and came to draw. The ducks, now aware of my presents, rose as well to make their exscape.I picked out one and made my shot.It caught the duck just as it reached its peak on the rise. At this same moment I heard off to my right the sound of a shot gun go off twice. Two ducks fell close to mine and the shot from the gun blast, covered me up. I hollowered at the top of my voice, "HEY"! Immediately a voice from the bushes on the far side of the pond called back, "Who are you?" "Jerry Hill", was my reply. As the man came out to where I could see him, I knew who he was. It was Jackie Ingram, an old time residence of Wilsonville that I had known for a long time. I new him well and new that he was known to be a crack shot with a gun and sligshot.He walked with a limp as 1/2 of one of his feet had been cut off at Mr.S.P. Hobbs sawmil, riding the log carriage, sawing logs. His leg sliped one day and he didn't get it back in time. I picked up his ducks, as well as mine and carriedd them over to where he stood on the nearby bank. He said to me, "I didn't know you were there"."When I shot, I saw three ducks fall and couldn't figure out what happened to the third duck, unless it had a heart attack." We stood there and talked for awhile". He checked out my longbow and I looked at his shotgun that was worn from so much shooting over the years. As we were departing he looked back over his shoulder and called back to me,"Nice shot Jerry". I replied, "Many thanks"."See you later". Arrived back home and mother prepared the duck in some wine sauce and made some homemade biscuits and thick gravy. It sure was good. Wish she was still alive and could fix me some more. "Man oh man".Jerry Hill.........................
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:thumbsup:
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I enjoyed every word...made my day. Thanks much. Rick. :campfire:
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Nice. Thanks again.
Chuck
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Jerry I love these stories. I have no regrets nor do I usually feel I missed out on anything in my youth, but your stories are making me feel I did miss out on some great adventures.
Thanks for sharing and please keep sharing.
ps: I do appreciate it really, but if you could hit the return key a time or two as the single paragraph is hard on the eyes :-)
Thanks again.
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Member #3873...I'll certainly try. I'm not the best typiest and always miss spell something, when I look back. I get to hitting these keys and very seldom look back, as I'm not sending something off for a book or magazine. But I understand you situation and will try to help. Many thanks for all your comments, it makes me do more for your enjoyment as well as mine.Jerry Hill.................
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Dang J, that's a good story! I remember those fresh killed meals too.
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Awesome - did you have to clean your shorts?
Nice shooting...
jer Bear
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Great story. Really pulls you in as you read it.
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nice story there Jerry.
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Jer, If I did you wouldn't have smelt it, cause that mud in that beaver pond stunk so bad, that once I got home mother wouldn't let me in the house. So I had to change out in the barn after showering off with water and octegon lye soap. The water came from a rain barrel that was on top of the barn, heated by the sun. We didn't have indoor plumbing until a year or two later.You could take a pretty long shower with 55 gallons, so long as the sun was shinning, but when it didn't you had to be fast and try not to miss a spot, cause you didn't want momma to make you go back a second time.If you know what I mean.Jerry Hill..........
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Once again job well done. I always enjoy your writing. Keep it up. :thumbsup:
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Member #362 says fun read Member #22997!
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Goodun' right there Jerry. Feel free to share as many as you've got.
Many people here seem to be enjoying your stories.......... :goldtooth:
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That was a good read there, Jerry.
George
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Jerry you had quite the up bringing. My dad left when I was 2 and i lived in 25 places by the time I was 12. My mom was left with 5 kids and no alamoney.
We were shipped to uncles and aunts adn grandmas through my young life. I rememeber the farm and my uncle was in a new marriage with a woman (who I swear was a witch...well i did when I was hyoung anyway) and her three kids.
I had never been on a farm and I was 7. So they played lots of tricks on me.
The worst time was bathing day - usually only once a week.
They would boil water on the wood stove and pour into a big metal tub...my aunt would go first - my uncle next and then the other three kids - I WAS ALWAYS LAST.
The water by this time had a scum on it that was 1/4" thick and the water was chocolate brown - how was I going to get clean. So I would just go down to the creek with a bar of soap and freeze my butt off getting cleaned up.
The closeet call I had with a rattler was when we were haying.
I jumped into the old truck (hadn't been moved for ever adn hardly any floor boards).
I started it up and heard the unmistakeable sound of RATTLING under the seat.
The truck was running and I jumped up onto the seat and then open the door and jumped out....that was great but the truck was in gear and headed for the fence where the big boars were.
it smashed the fence and the boars got out (these are 600 lb babies) and the truck finally stalled in the mud.
Well i got a beating for that one.
jer bear
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That was a great story.
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you know as a youngin myself at the ripe old age of 18, I understand the "stupidity" as some would say to a kid with a traditional bow going for waterfowl. I have not been succesful yet, but I will one day.
I too do not feel I missed out on anything throughout my childhood. But boy would I love to go back to those days!!!
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Great story Jerry.Growin up next to a swampy area myself when I was a kid,I could almost smell that mud.Those were the days. :thumbsup:
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Great story! How about copy and paste it to the tradgang st jude auction journal? It is a few threads down the page.
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Wow, what a great story Jerry. Thank you for taking us down your memory lane.
BOB
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very cool !!!
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Jerry H.,
You talk about bathing with Octagon soap, ever get your mouth washed out with it-for lying or swearing (I said "darn you" and my mother heard me)?? Washed those lies and that language right out of my mouth!!!!!!!
Phil
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I loved the story! Keep'em coming. Please!! Thank you!
God bless,Mudd
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Jerry, thanks for sharing that story... I had a thought about encountering a rattlesnake as I was hunting hogs this evening...I swear he was right under the log my rearend was resting on! Turned out to be a stinking rodent... Thanks again, Barry
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Thanks for sharing another one of your stories with us! Keep them coming.
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Good story.
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Kids these days would never consider shooting a duck with a bow. By the time they clipped on their release (which means they would have to put the call down) and picked a pin, they would never get a shot off. LOL
Thanks. Great story.
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man! i could smell the mud,
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Thanks, Jerry for the story!
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Thanks, great read.
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Another great story! :clapper: