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.
Cmbluetick coonhunterssupply.com
