Melanie D. Calvert

The Mountain Man Snipe Hunt

© 2005 Copyright by W.R. Benton, all rights reserved.

Now, most of y'all don't know me, but my name is Cy and I am an old man. I jess hope the good Lord lets me get a little older a-fore he calls to them golden meadows in the sky. See, when I was a youngster, I headed into to the back country to learn to trap and to make my fortune. I move away from other people ‘cause I am more or less a loner. While I did learn ‘bout them furs, you know, I never did make that fortune. Or, did I?

I may be fairly short on greenbacks, but let me tell ya, I am a rich man in mem-rees. I've lived a life that most of y'all would envy and some of ye would be scared of. I have fit wolves, bears, wolverines, and even a wife ‘er three, but I would do ‘er all oveh again in a heartbeat. Why? With all of this heah jabberin' I jess ‘membered a time, way back when I furst come to the shinnin' mountains and a huntin' trip I played the fool on, or twas it the other way ‘round.

I was a young man then, mayhap fifteen years old and my body was better worked than my brain. Oh, I was smart ‘nough, but I had a heap a learnin' to do yet. My hunting partners, Teacher and Zee, took me under their wings and taught me things that would keep a feller alive in them mountains. Times was hard, but them two old men had the hair of the bear on ‘em and as y'all know, that means they was tough men.

One cold night in December, if-un I ‘members right, them two fellers dee-cided we was a-gonna go on a snipe hunt. Waugh, how did I know they was fixin' me up fer a tease! I found out later on in life there is a snipe bird, but they fer shore don't live in the Rocky Mountains . Any who, they give me this big buckskin bag, took me out in the dark cold night, and put me on a less than slightly used critter trail.

“Son, no matter how cold ya get, or how tired you are, stay heah and wait fer me and Teacher to drive them birds to ya. I ‘spect they'll come right down this heah trail fast like and all ya gotta do is scoop ‘em up in that bag.” Zee instructed as he filled his old briar pipe with tobacco.

“What do these heah birds look like? Do they make a sound as they move? And, why don't they fly ‘way from y'all if-un yer a-gonna scared ‘em?” I asked in my innocence as I assumed the bent over posture Zee had indicated I had to use to catch the fast little critters.

“They is small son, ‘bout the size of a quail. They'll not make a sound as they come, so ya gotta pays attention all the time. Plus they cain't fly, but they do run fast.” Was Zee's answer and I still 'member the serious look on his face as he spoke in the pale moonlight.

“Got it, Zee. You can ‘pend on me to get ‘em if-un they comes this a-ways.”

“Good, now I gotta go and get Teacher so we can start a-drivin' them birds towards ya.”

Well, I wasn't the smartest man in the mountains, but after five hours I started to think I had been had. A light snow started to fall and the temperature dropped to the point even the grizzly bears was a-thinkin' ‘bout a-puttin' on coats. I kept a-thinkin' bout a cup of hot coffee and finally gave up the waiting game. Now, mountain men don't give up easy, but I figured five hours was long ‘nough and in that time Zee or Teacher should have walked up to me, if-un they was a-drivin' them birds towards me like. So, I started back to the campfire, with a sore back I might add from bein' bent over fer so long.

As I neared the fire I hear'd Zee give a loud laugh, so I injuned up on the campsite. Why, them two old fools was a-sittin' by that warm cracklin' fire sippin' on some trader's whiskey from their tin cups. I knew right at that moment that they had been a-funnin' me and I was hot.

“That young coon took it all serious like too, Teacher!” I hear'd Zee say and then break into a horse laugh.

“Well, it's cold out, but I bet ya my bottom dollar, that boy will ‘member his furst snipe hunt fer years!” Teacher replied and gave a loud belly laugh that echoed through the still night.

Right then and there I dee-cided I'd show them two old fools. I made my way down by Little Piney crick where I knew a flock of turkeys liked to roost at night. As I neared the old oak tree they usually spent the night in, I had to walk ‘round it a few times to finally see the dark form of one against the dark gray night sky. I slowly bent down, so as not to alarm them big birds, and picked up a nice big snow covered stone. I brushed the freshly fallen snow from the rock, drew back and threw as hard as I could at that sleepin' turkey.

I was fit to be tied as the bird fell, deader than last years moonshine at a fur roony-voo. I picked it up and gave a loud scream. I had to get those two old beaver tails away from the fire, so I could turn the tables jess a might. I moved up the trail quickly and ducked unner the lower branches of a large pine tree as I heard them a-comin'.

“Zee, if-un that boy is hut ‘er daid, I'm gonna be all over yer behind!” Teacher said as he bulled down the trail.

“Teacher, you knowed I was a-doin' it and ya thought it was funny too! So, don't be on my hind-end ‘bout that boy. You and me both know they ain't nothin' out a-movin' in this weather, man nor critter.”

As soon as they moved further down the trail a might, I made a bee line straight fer that campsite. Once there, I moved ‘hind some oaks and quickly gutted and skinned that turkey. I didn't get all the feathers, but that wasn't real ‘portant any ways. As soon as that bird was cleaned, I put ‘er on a spit and stuck ‘em over a hot bed of coals from our fire.

For the better part of two hours Zee and Teacher hunted fer me out in that cold weather and they constantly called out my name, but I didn't make a sound. Oh, I hear'd ‘em jess fine, but it was pay back time. Finally, I guess they gave up and I could hear them returnin' to the campsite, so I ‘tended I was sleepin' as one of ‘em walked up.

“Ty, didn't ya hear us a-callin' yer name? It's colt out there!” A angry Zee asked as he stood over the fire and extended his open palms to the heat.

I slowly opened my eyes and sat up as I said, “I guess I was sleepin' fellers. I didn't heah a thang.”

Teacher, who had be behind a bit Zee gradually made his way to the fire and immediately noticed the big bird a-cookin'. Lookin' at me in total disbelief he asked, “Ty, what is that a-cookin'?”

“It's one of them snipes, Teacher. When that big ole thang run inta my bag, why, it knocked me on my backside. It was Myrtle bar the door fer a spell there. I wasn't shore who had who, me or the bird.”

I noticed both Zee and Teacher exchange questionin' looks and knew then I had to carry the plan a bit mo'. I bent over, picked up my skinnin' knife and cut a big piece of meat off of the breast of that huge “snipe.” I handed it to Zee. Of course, I had to cut ‘nother one fer Teacher. As they ate the bird, I watched as smiles started to form on both of their faces.

Finally Zee broke the silence with, “Dang me, Teacher, if-un this heah snipe don't ‘mind me of turkey meat.”

Teacher chewed his meat for a minute ‘er two and then replied, “Yep, she shore does. I thank a man could learn to like eatin' these snipe birds.”

I looked up at both men, gave a big toothy grin and said, “Well, I'm glad to heah that fellers, ‘cause since I was all alone out there I could only get us one bird. Hows ‘bout tomorrow night, I do the drive and you two catch the birds?”

Zee gave a loud laugh, slapped his right knee and said, “By golly, we'll shore do ‘er son, I do like the taste of these heah snipes!”

So, yer wonnerin' if-un them two went out the next night ‘er not, ain't ya? Well, that's ‘nother story fer ‘nother time. Like I done tolt y'all, I ain't got much money, but I have some mem'rees that make me a rich man and I ain't gonna spend ‘em all in one place. Next time y'all can get away from the telly-vision, ‘puter, ‘er them video games, try a-makin' a few mem-rees of yer own. And, ‘nother good thang ‘bout mem'rees is hain't nobody can steal ‘em neither, so you'll be the onliest owner. Mayhap one day you'll share some of your-un with me sometimes.

Take care and keep yer powder dry pilgrim.

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