Coon hunting with the Sammons

By cmbluetick

My family always had other families join us on our weekend coon hunts. These hunts were memorable and enormous fun, and I often refer back to these hunts to tell my stories. I'd like to share with you one of the more entertaining coon hunts that has stayed with me over the years. The night was warm and all of us were dressed lightly. Doris, the mother of our guest family, was wearing a tank top and light pants. Keep in mind that Doris was a well endowed lady. When everyone was ready to go, we headed to Shirley Run, a pretty little spring run about 10 miles from home. Many times we had fished for trout and camped along this creek, but never hunted coon there. When we arrived at the creek we turned out the hounds to begin their hunt. I was hunting Abe and Bell and George; Doris’s husband, was hunting Old Yellow. The dogs had already started along the trail, before the kids were even out of the truck. Before long Old Yellow had struck a coon track. Abe and Bell quickly joined him and the chase was on. The coon followed the creek and then made a turn up a smaller spring run. Not far up that creek the dogs started howling at a tree and we were still far behind, as we were always slow getting to the treeing hounds. The children always took their time sight seeing in the woods, but we soon reached the tree. We started looking for the coon. I found one near the top and Doris found one on her side of the tree. The kids found two more coons on their side of the tree. Doris was standing on the creek bank shining her light on her coon, when the small raccoon came flying out of the tree landing on Doris. The coon landed right inside of her tank top! Of course, all this action caused her to topple down the bank and into nearly two feet of cold spring creek water. She was squalling and flaying her arms the entire time. The water was flying in all directions as she tried to get the coon out of that tank top. The whole bunch of us were of little help, laughing so hard we could hardly catch breath. Doris finally got hold of the coon and sqealed for a bag to throw it into. When she finally got the coon bagged and got out of the creek, she told us that this coon was going home with her. She said her and that coon had become bosom buddies and she wanted to keep him with her, where he would be warm and safe.

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The Old Yellow Coon Hound

One of my hunting buddies was George Sammons. George worked in a steel mill in Erie Pa. We went coon hunting almost every weekend. His wife called one evening to tell me that their coon hound had died and George was having a rough time. Could I find them a coon hound so they could hunt with me again.

I spent a lot of time trying to find a good coon hound at a fair price we could hunt with my dogs. There just did not seem to be decent hound to be found. If I did find one the price was so high we could not afford it.

George called me. One saturday morning and said he had found a good coon hound that could tree coon by himself. The price was only $20.00. That was even cheaper than buying a pup. He was four years old and the seller told George he was a good tree dog. At the price I just knew George bought a trashy hound. I was not going to hunt my dogs with a hound that ran deer, skunks, possums, or what have you. Of course I would go with coon hunting with George to try the new hound out.

I went to Georges house to see the new dog and take them coon hunting. When I first saw the hound I was impressed by his size and looks. He looked well put together, had the look of hound and seemed to have a voice to go with it. The dog looked great and he had a nice even yellow coat. I would guess his age at about 4 years old. This dog was in his prime and I knew something just had to be wrong with him. George said he was told the dog was deaf. The only way you could get him out of the woods was go to the tree and get him. He could not hear you call.

We went to a corn field and turned the hound out to hunt. Of course his name was Yeller. That old yellow hound only went a short piece into the corn.He opened on track. He had a nice clear bawl and carried the track down and across the corn to the woods. Not to far into the woods he hit a tree and treed his heart out. George was smiling from ear to ear. When we got to the tree. That big old hound was stretched as far as he could up the tree. He was barking as hard as could. We saw the coon right away and put a lead on the hound. George made a big fuss over the dog telling him how great a coon hound he was.

As we turned loose at the next place. Three deer crossed the road and headed down the side of the corn field. Yeller went down the field a short piece and then turned right and crossed their trail and headed for the woods. He ran for a time and settled to a tree. George and I both went to the tree and there he was treeing his best. George had been drinking some and was a little drunk.

We turned the hound loose again. As I walked around the truck to get my light I saw a glow of a hot cigar butt. I told George someone had already hunted this place earlier this night. We waited for the yellow dog to come back to the truck. George carried a 357 Mag handgun with him. Before long we heard Yeller coming through the corn. He came to the road about 20 yards from us and turned away from us. As he headed down the road George yelled at him to come in. Of course he just kept walking down the road. George pulled the handgun from its holster, and fired all six shots at the dog. Gravel and stones flew off the road and all over Yeller, but none of the shots hit home. When the last shot was fired Yeller turned and ran for the truck
We went coon hunting the yellow dog with my hounds for many years after that night. He was one of the finest coon hound the family ever hunted with, however, after that night you had be careful if you called him. Call gently or you might get run over by a big yellow dog racing back to the truck. His hearing was just fine!

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Coon Hunting With Sig.

 By cmbluetick

When I was about six years old my family lived on a farm in Northwestern Pennsylvanian. An old friend of my father loved to hunt raccoons on our farm and corn fields. My dad worked in the steel mill near home and could not stay up late enough to go coon hunting with his friend Sig. Sig. came form Sweden and was a wood craftsman. He build the most beautiful furniture and his work was in great demand, but he always took time to coon hunt.

He loved to hunt coon. It was decided that I should go with Sig. to hunt Raccoons. He had a fine hound called Joe. Joe could work the corn fields and woods and would always find a coon trail. When he opened on trail, Joe would give one long Yodel. Then he would just bellow the most beautiful and haunting sounds into the night that I had ever heard. The coon was on the run. Sig. never killed the coon Joe treed, on the farm, and after a few chases a smart coon would just lay out a long trail until Joe got to close. At that point the coon would take to a tree. When Joe found the tree with the coon sitting up there he would let out a high pitched bark. Then there would be a minute or so of dead air. I would hold my breath, waiting for the next bark. If indeed the coon was up there only then did Joe bark treed. If the coon had touched the tree and went on Joe would again give his yodel and be on the trail again.

Sig. and I would wait and let Joe tree for a while then go to the tree. When we got to the tree Sig. would praise that old hound, hug him, and tell that how great he was. There always seemed to be a few candy bars in Sig's pockets. He would sit down on the ground and break off a big piece for Joe and share with me. We would just sit there and Sig. would talk to that hound just like he would to his own children. Of course he gave me a candy bar, but I was just an observer, Joe was the show.

We hunted together for many years. Sig, Joe and I not only hunted our corn fields, but we also hunted other areas near home. When I was about eight years old I found an advertisement in “Out Door Life Magazine”. It said you could buy a coon hound from a man in Mississippi. A treeing coon hound and guaranteed to trail and tree. Full voice and sharp tree bark. Priced at 35 dollars plus 35dollars shipping from Mississippi. The hound would be shipped by train and guaranteed to arrive healthy and fit.

I had some money saved up from my allowance and other odd jobs around the farm. I talked to Sig about me buying that hound. He said to let him think about the idea for a few days. Little did I know then that Sig called the man in Mississippi and made sure the dog was indeed a descent coon hound. When I talked to him again, he said he thought my idea over and I should order the dog, but if the new hound was not to Joe liking Sig And I would have to take turns with hunting the dogs. Joe would be hunt the most cause he was the big dog of the two.

I was at the train station at least an hour before the train caring my hound arrived. Dad and Sig. were both at work and my mother was with some friends. I think that was the longest hour of my young life.

When the train did arrive a conductor got off and had my hound in tow. I saw the worlds most beautiful dog. She was fairly large Bluetick, marked just like the pictures I had seen of some of the great Bluetick Hounds of the past. The conductor said her mane was Blue. Her crate was still on the train, but would be set off in a minute. My dad was going to pick us up after work, but I left the crate at the train station and told them to tell dad I would walk the dog the three miles home.

The walk home was a boy loves dog walk. We walked, sat and just talked, and checked to be sure each and every hair was in place. I let her run and when I was sure she would stay with me. I just let off the chain and we walked together . I could not have more proud of her. I probably have kept even if she did not hunt coon.

Sig and I with Joe and Blue hunted for many years together. The hounds hunted like a team. Sig. was just as proud of the lady as I was. My first dog Blue was a great hound, but always the perfect lady.

Years later I was told Sig had a bad heart and that the reason I was allowed to hunt with him was if he had a heart attack I could take the folks to the body.

Sig lived until he was in his late 80`s. He was in his late 70`s when he had to give up coon hunting. By then old Joe was gone and Blue and their son and his sister hunted with us.

When Sig quit hunting. He would still sit on the porch of his house and tell me all about the hunt when we came in from the woods. He would rag me when Blue II would out do her mom and brother. He would tell me Blue II would be a great hound to start a kennel. He even called our friend in Mississippi and got us a great Bluetick stud dog to give us a start.

To this day I always try to take youngsters coon hunting with me. I learned a lot from that old man and not just about coon hunting, but about life.

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