Mountainmen

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coontail
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Mountainmen

Postby coontail » Tue Oct 24, 2017 2:57 pm

Whats some of the most "backwoodsy" type people you have ran across while out hunting?
Mike Leonard
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Re: Mountainmen

Postby Mike Leonard » Tue Oct 24, 2017 6:49 pm

Well my deal doesn't exactly qualify for Mountain men more like Mountain woman.


This was many years ago up on the Yellowstone River in Eastern Montana. I was coon hunting a lot for fur back then and I was really hitting it hard, and one night when my dogs treed not far from a little town there, I heard a whole bunch of other hounds light up when they heard my dogs on the timber. Well I could tell those dogs were penned or chained up cuz they weren't moving so I decided I would take a look see over there and see who else had hounds in that area. Back then very few people around there had hounds and I was young and eager to meet anybody who might be in the hound game.

Next day I drover around over there where I had heard them, and I saw a run down little place back in the cottonwoods that looked pretty much like just a little series of shacks with a few old cars and truck setting around. I pulled down the little dirt road and pulled up to the most inhabited looking shack and was met by a menagerie of cur dogs barking their heads off and some of them not looking any too friendly.

I just sat there in my old truck and waited and directly from behind the house this old gray haired gal in a pair of bib overalls and a flannel shirt came around with an axe in her hand. I was about ready to bolt when she spotted me and came my way and she seemed friendly enough.

She said, can I help you sonny? I got out and she stuck out her hand and said my name is Gladys. I told her mine and we shook. she said I was chopping wood out back and wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for all these dang barking dogs. And with that she told them dogs in no uncertain terms to go lay down, and they did.

I told her I was a coon hunter and I had heard hounds down here last night and I wanted to come check them out. Well she really brightened up then, a coon hunter you say? Well I'll be, they are as scarce as hen's teeth in these parts. Her noticeable southern accent came thru and I knew she wasn't a local.

She said well Frank and I heard them hounds don there on the river last evening and we were taking bets on what kind they were. He said he knew they were black and tans and I told him they were not black and tans cuz they had too much quiver in their bawl mouths and that black and tans have a horn bawl on them.

Well I knew right there she wasn't no greenhorn, and I said well you are the winner of that bet, I am running blueticks. She slap her leg and said , I knew it! I knew It. Frank! Frank! she yelled, you own me 5 dollars! Directly a similarly clad fellow came out of the shack with a long gray bears and an old beat up felt hat on. Gladys said, Frank come over here I want you to meet this young feller, and he can tell you straight out, I was right.

Well the man came over and shook my hand and his southern drawl was even more pronounced than hers.

So you run blueticks do ya? I said yes sir I have a couple. What's their breeding he asked? I told him I had got one from Warrens Haslour at Smokey River Kennels, and the other one I got from a friend who bought the mother and father from Albert Vaughn. He sort of whistled thru his teeth and said, boy that's real breeding!

I figured out in a bit that they were not really man and wife just more like partners in crime I guess and they had migrated out there from the hills of Missouri but Frank said he was originally from Tennessee. they said they had brought their hounds with them and they had quite a bunch of them, would I like to take a look? Boy would I,I replied and they led me back to some wire pens and there amidst some goats and pigs with a whole lot of chickens scattered around I found myself surrounded by the most diverse lot of pot licker hounds I ever laid eyes on. All sizes and colors and about 20 grown hounds and several bitches in pens with weaning age pups with them. They went down the list telling me all the background of each hound and all the history behind them, and I found out that some of them were wolf hounds as they called them and were running walker, July and trigg crosses. They had walker, plots, blue dogs black dogs, beagles and the prettiest pair of long eared redbones I had ever seen.

they asked me if I was in the market for a good hound and I told them I just had the 2 bluetick males, and didn't really know if I needed anything else, but I sure liked to look. Well they put the sales pitch on me pretty good, but when I said well I might be interested in one of them redbones, they went stone silent one me.

Well son those dogs aren't fer sale, you see they belonged to my brother and he passed away and I have to keep them cuz they were his pride and joy. Now this here other dog over here they pointed to kind of a blue English looking dog with a big old long curly type tails, is a sure enough coon getter. I looked at the dog and his eyes were as yellow as coyotes and he sort of seemed cross eyed to me. I told them no I thought I would pass but if they ever thought they might let one or both of those redbones go, I would be interested.

I sort of doubted their story on the dead brother and when I had petted the red bitch I checked her teeth and she was a very young adult dog, maybe 2 at most.

Well we had a good visited and they made me promise to bring my hounds by so they could see them, and I left. The next time I was by there I dropped in and had Earl and Blue Jack in my truck and they were a pair of fine looking males. right away Frank tried to trade me out of one of them, but I said no I couldn't let either go. We talked awhile longer and I was about ready to leave and he said, you know those red dogs you like I might consider trading one of those for one of your blue dogs. Brotherly love went out the window I guess, but I stuck to my guns and said no thanks, and left.

I had left my phone number with Gladys and it wasn't but a few days and she called me one evening. She said, I have something I want to give you when you come by again this way. So a week or so passed and I was by there ,and I dropped in. She saw me coming and ran in the house and came out with something wrapped up in some old newspapers. She handed it to me and told me I made this myself just for you. I unwrapped it and it was a hand carved blowing horn with a leather thong attached to put over your shoulder so you could carry it and call the hounds in. She then proceeded to tell me Frank was just about ready to drive himself nuts thinking about my blueticks and would I consider breeding one of them to one of his bitches? I told her I would be glad to do that if I could pick a couple of pups. she beamed and said, Oh thank you I think Frank is going to be very happy.

Well long story short we bred old Earl to the red female he called Bugle Annie and we got a litter of red and a few red and white lightly ticked pups. She only had 6 pups and a couple of them died so I agreed to just take one male pup I called Sarge, and he turned out to be a pretty fair type of a fur dog, but never was as good as his sire, Earl.

Anyway these folks were sure enough hill folk and it was out of the blue I met them and I still to this day more than forty years later have that old blowing horn to remind me of those interesting folks.
MIKE LEONARD
Somewhere out there.............
Nicole Stark
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Re: Mountainmen

Postby Nicole Stark » Tue Oct 24, 2017 7:39 pm

Jeez - did you copy that from somewhere? That's a pretty nifty story!

All I got is the wildling fur trapper I met in the backwoods of Alaska. I didn't take any pics of him but I got some of his wolf.
Rimrock
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Re: Mountainmen

Postby Rimrock » Tue Oct 24, 2017 9:14 pm

My hunting partner had lost one of his bear dogs. It had been out for almost two weeks and we were scouring the mountains in an effort to find him. Having failed in all the likely places we finally followed a faint dirt road to it's end. A rather small wooden shack with a wood shed was all that was there.

We sat in the truck for a few minutes, waiting on the silence. Finally, from around the shed, a head appeared. A middle aged, unkept looking fellow. He was sizing us up like he thought we might be relatives or revenuers.

Partner got out and explained that we were looking for a lost dog. This guy just stood there for a long time. Chewing on a big wad in his cheek. Finally he said, "War hit a male?" Partner affirmed that it was. Another long pause, a stream of Brown Mule hit the ground and the guy asked, "War he red?" That is the first person we have talked to that gave any hope. Partner eagerly nodded, "Yes, that's right." Another long pause. More chewing and another stream. The fellow asked, "War he from (insert town shown on collar) ?" Now we are getting someplace! Partners smile gets bigger, he nods, "Yep, thats right." More waiting, chewing and spitting before the guy says, "Ain't seen um."

All I can do is sit there and laugh at the incredulous look on partners face. Finally the guy says, "He war over to the Boys Camp last week."

That is where we found Ole Jinx. That has been a long time ago but every time I pass that little road I have to laugh.
Last edited by Rimrock on Wed Oct 25, 2017 3:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
coontail
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Re: Mountainmen

Postby coontail » Tue Oct 24, 2017 9:45 pm

Great stories. Keepem comin'. You had me laughin on that one Rimrock
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Re: Mountainmen

Postby sarah.k10 » Thu Mar 28, 2019 1:05 pm

See the world's smallest dog even you can't believe how small he is

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