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.........................
Topic: Duck on the wing (Read 859 times)
