MY ENCOUNTERS WITH COUGARS
The recent news about a woman who hit and killed a 265 pound black bear in Covington County, Alabama with her vehicle has prompted me to write about some wild animals/reptiles that inhabit L.A., that is, lower Alabama where I have done my hunting during the past 30 years. It is not surprising to find black bear in south Alabama. The state of Florida has hunting seasons for these creatures. The bears in the panhandle of Florida probably cannot read the signs that read “You are now entering Alabama ”. That could also be said about alligators. I have seen where those creatures have come out of Pea River in Coffee County and crawled onto the land. Our son Joel and his friend Ronnie used to fish in a pond southeast of Opp and they would always see alligators but to my knowledge they never tried to hook one of them.

But on to my ‘cat tale’, that is my encounters with cougars that roam the swamps and woods of south Alabama. I was speaking in a gospel meeting at the church in Samson and we had an evening meal with a family that lived on the highway that led to Florala. When we left the house our oldest sons wanted to see the community of Hacoda. I told them that it was very small but they wanted to see where it was so I drove to the crossroads. While driving back we saw an animal crossing the road and I thought first of all that it was a bobcat but I noticed that it had a long tail. When we got to where the animal had crossed the road I stopped the car and the boys and I got out of the car and looked in the pasture and sure enough there stood that cat looking at us. It was then that I realized we were looking at a cougar. Needless to say, we got into the car and in a hurry. That ole boy whished its tail and turned and slowly walked away. I learned later that several residents of that rural area had heard the creature scream, especially in late afternoon and evening.

I was hunting in Crenshaw County years later west of the small town of Brantley and along side Double Branch. I arrived mid-afternoon and with rifle in hand I entered some pines on my way to an area where I had seen deer signs. I had not gone far before I saw an animal sitting at the base of a tree. I raised my rifle to look at it through my scope and I as did the cat got up and ran away. It was a cougar that resided in a swamp alongside Double Creek. The Brownlee family members informed me that they often heard the cougar screaming during the evening of the day and at night.

I received permission to hunt on some private land that was much closer to the town of Brantley and even closer to highway 331. My neighbor who lived behind us in Opp told me that a cougar stayed down in a bottom near a beautiful stream of water and that his father had heard the cat scream many times. After I had hunted down the ridge for the greater part of that afternoon I walked up to a small corn field and sat down near it hoping that a buck would come looking for his evening meal. While I sat there and wishing, that cat let out a scream that almost made my hair (at that time the word was plural) stand on end. There I was, a grown man with a Browning BAR 308 caliber rifle in my hands but I truly felt uncomfortable. Although I knew factually that the animal had no interest in me it was soon that I forgot about deer and got up and went home.
HUNTERS READ THIS SIGN: You may walk across my pasture free but the bull charges!

A FAILURE TO PROPERLY COMMUNICATE – AND TO UNDERSTAND
Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed.

The other guy takes out his phone and calls the emergency services.

He gasps: “My friend is dead! What can I do?”

The operator says: “Calm down, sir, I can help. First, let’s make sure that he’s dead.”

There is a silence, and then a gunshot is heard.

Back on the phone, the guy says: “Okay, now what?”

EATING ‘HIGH ON THE HAY’
It was my good fortune to be able to hunt on some 450 acres of prime hunting ground owned by my good friend Warren Burt. His land lays on a ridge several miles north of Prattville and just off U.S. Highway 82. When you turn west off of 82 you go up on a ridge and his property was right on top of one of the highest points in Autauga County , Alabama . Most of the land in the middle of his property is used for pasture for his livestock. Near the south end of his property you can look as far as your eyes can see across the Alabama River and into Lowndes County . On either side of the pastures are hardwood hollows that are ideal for hunting turkey and deer. Often during those years I was the only one hunting his land on certain mornings in the early part of the week. There came a time when he began to lease his land for hunting and I chose not to be involved for financial reasons, however, that did not affect our relationship to any degree. During the off season I will go out just to walk around and enjoy the quietness and serenity of this beautiful acreage and to visit with my good friend. On occasions I will carry my camera to take pictures of the trees and wild life.

Well, one day I was driving in my truck through the pasture where Warren had hauled hay in his trailer for his cows to eat. Much to my surprise I saw one cow that was really eager to get ahead of the herd. I thought she was ‘making a hog’ of herself when she decided to get up in the trailer to feast on that delicious hay. I considered her to be rather ‘uppity’ about the whole matter. Those beef cattle reminded me of dairy cows and that reminds me of the morning when I was milking a cow and a tornado came along and blew that cow away and left me ‘holding the bag.’ On another occasion when I was milking a cow a fly flew into its ear and not long after, the fly wound up in the milk bucket. But you have heard that old saying, ‘In one ear and out the udder.’ I am reminded also of a good friend who told me after listening to one of my corny jokes that he was going to do me a favor and not repeat it. That sounds like good advice.A SECOND CHANCE
In the fall of 2000 my friend, Warren, informed me that he had extended his fence down in one hollow and that one morning when he was riding his four wheeler to work he jumped a big buck that came out of a kudzu patch. I asked him to show me where the buck had been bedded down and in which direction he ran. Well you can rest assured that I began to hunt in that hollow. I found where this old boy had worked over a rather large tree with its antlers and I could tell that this fellow was something worth hunting. I found an old ladder stand that had been attached to a tree for several years and I sat in it and I had a panoramic view of the beautiful hollow below me. One afternoon as I was walking toward the stand I jumped the big buck and though I did not see him I will guarantee you that I heard him running. He sounded more like a horse than a deer. For several days I sat in the old stand until late afternoon and then I would move up the ridge and down a dirt road that led to an open field and then I would sit myself in a ladder stand some 14 feet up the side an oak tree. I thought to myself if that deer follows his trail he will come out about seventy yards from where I was sitting. There was a small road where I thought he might exit the woods and that would give me a clear shot at him. Well I sat there waiting and from time to time I would look through my scope to make sure that I could see the crosshairs. I kept hearing some sounds to my right and up the rise in the field so I would watch in that direction for possibly a deer coming my way. As the sun was setting and darkness was slowly but surely falling, I heard that big boy walking. I looked and could faintly see his antlers so then I raised my rifle and looked through the scope and, would you believe it, I couldn’t see the crosshairs. That big buck had been spared another day to live.

In the month of May of the following year 2001, my Cardiologist found a major artery across my heart that was 95 percent blocked so he inserted a stent which I still have with me today. I had some other health problems plus the fact that I lost about 30 pounds too rapidly. The following deer season I was not anxious to be in the woods alone so I did not go hunting during the rest of 2001; however, by January 15, 2002, I was crawling up the walls and just had to get out in the woods with my rifle. I called Warren and he said the fellows had just about quit hunting that late in January so he said for me to come on up that day. I asked Warren if any deer had been killed in the area where the big buck had been traveling and he replied in the negative. That afternoon I went to the same old ladder stand and sat there until late afternoon and then moved slowly back up the ridge and walked down to the ladder stand by the old oak tree and sat there hoping that I would soon see some action. Would you believe that at 5:25 p.m., that big buck walked straight out of the woods some 70 yards from me? He stared my way for the longest and I would not move a muscle until he moved and turned sideways to me. It was then that I fired my Browning 308 caliber rifle and sent a 150 grain bullet a-headed his way. It knocked him down but he ‘crawled’ into the woods so I could no longer see him but I knew he was dead, he just did not know it. I asked myself, what were the chances of my seeing that buck the first and only day I had gone hunting that season? Darkness came and I took my flashlight out, crossed the field and entered the woods and found him very soon because he had not gone far. I called Warren and told him I had killed a deer and here he came on his four wheeler and I showed him the deer and he said immediately, “You’ve killed their big deer” (talking about the men who paid money to hunt on his land). I replied, “Warren, this is my deer. I hunted this boy last year and did not get him.” I honestly believe this was the same deer I failed to kill the year before and now I had shot him within about 10 yards of where I saw him briefly last hunting season. This was a very big bodied deer but I was disappointed in the size of his antlers. It was only a 7-pointer with the end of one tine broken off on the right side. Besides that, it was a weird looking set of antlers. I told my friend that he should feed his deer with the right minerals so the bucks would grow antlers with 10 or 15 points with a 20 inch spread. But I am very happy that this big buck gave me a second chance to shoot at him.

Hunter's Stand #1

PERSONAL NOTE: The following article is one that I wrote while living in Opp , Alabama during the 1970s. Our oldest son, Tim, who was a senior in high school, was asked by the editor of the Opp News to be the editor of the sports section of the weekly paper. I thought I would help him to fill his section by writing hunting stories under an anonymous name. In south Alabama most deer hunters used dogs during those years but there were a few die hard still hunters who enjoyed the sport.

~ ~ ~ ~

Hunter's Stand #1

Deer Hunting ~ The First Day

By A. Nimrod

You know that the time is drawing near. There are definite signs. Some men become very impatient. Daily they stare at the calendar and count off the days, wishing for time to fly by just bit swifter. They take endless walks in the woods looking for a rub, a scrape, tracks or some kind of evidence that the deer are still around and waiting to be shot at come November. Many a man will spend his money, his wife’s money and what he can borrow from the bank to purchase a truck. No, not an old dull-looking thing but a brand new pick-up with a bright two-tone paint job, fancy hubcaps, am and fm radio and even air-conditioned (after all it does get hot riding those dusty roads a-looking for your dogs.). Of course, the wife will drive the worn out family car to carry the children to school and to drive to work. But, you know, first things must come first. The wife understands that the husband’s ego is more important than her having a nice new car. Now you just think about it. If the deer hunting husband can drive a brand new truck, with a CB radio antenna a-bending in the breeze as he goes driving through town, you know that she will be mighty proud of her husband. Why, he has the envy of all those other fellows – especially the bow hunter and the lonely still hunter. Because, you see, they will stay up night wondering how that lucky fellow can drive a new truck and at the same time not work during the long deer season that runs from November till January. And, you stop and ponder over that thing, and it is a wonder.

Then, there is the introvert deer-slayer who had rather be off by himself, up a tree with his rifle, a-freezing to death than to enjoy the deer tales and lies of dozens of shotgun wielding deer hunters, along with the yelping of hundreds of hounds a-hankering to go jump up a fawn or two. This unusual nut will spend endless hours a-gazing at tracks and all the other signs and planning his maneuvers. He is most confident that he will kill a 20-point deer the very first morning. He will even boast to his buddies of the findings that he has made. Now, you just try to get him to explain where he saw such signs and he will come back with a smart-alec answer like, “between here and the Florida line.”

But this type of hunter will spend his money, his wife’s money and all that he can get from other sources to purchase a precious 30-06 caliber rifle (he thinks that a moose might come walking around). He has out-grown his lowly 30-30. Anyway, it’s not automatic. You need a least 7 shots that can be fired in less than 2 seconds because you never know how big and how fast that crazy buck will be. He will even carry extra rounds of ammunition in his pocket just in case he sees more deer than he can handle in one morning. Not only is a rifle important but also in order to be modern and scientific, he has either purchased or made him a tree stand. Just ask him about this jewel. I really don’t see how the Indians ever killed a deer without one of the mechanical devices. Why he can go up to 100 feet in the air and see into the next county if the Pine tree is tall enough. (Wives, just a note here.) If you are planning to divorce your deer hunting, no account husband, don’t do it. Just buy him a tree stand and he will eventually fall out of a lonesome Pine, break his neck and then you can collect the insurance, which will be more respectable.

But, here it is the night before the morning. If you think that the kids have problems on December 24th a-waiting for Santa, you should live the life of a deer hunter. He’s still got a lot of kid in him. He can’t sleep. He knows that he has got to get up early the next morning but he can’t sleep. Instead of counting sheep, as a normal and sane person would do, he can’t see anything but a herd of deer – all bucks. He goes through his ritualistic, planned program of activities. His gun has been cleaned (he stares at it, loves it and sort of worships it). He has bought 40 rounds of ammunition. Before he retires for the night, he will make sure that he has enough Vienna sausages to last for a couple of months, sardines (that should kill the human scent), pork an’ beans, drinks, etc. He never knows whether or not he might get lost and the food would come in handy for at least a month (which is consumed the first morning). He carefully piles his hunting garments in a stack near the back door. According to the unreliable weather reports, he will choose the clothing that he thinks he will need. After all, a fellow could freeze to death in Covington County (by mid-morning, he has pulled off everything except one pair of pants and his tee shirt).

Then, the ordeal begins. He knows that he must get to bed. Any other night, that would be just fine but not tonight. He knows, his wife knows, his children know that he won’t be able to sleep. He sets the alarm clock for some ungodly hour like 4:00 o’clock and the battle begins. He thinks of deer, he dreams of deer, he curses deer because he can’t sleep. He rolls and tumbles. He sweats. He listens for that crazy alarm clock. He thinks that it is time to get up. He turns the light on and looks at the clock – it is only 11:30. What a slow night of all nights. Every hour on the hour, he wakes up and looks hopefully at the clock but it is not time to get out of bed. But, finally, just before the clock sounds, he wakes up and pushes the stem in and rejoices that it is time to get out of bed.

With great hopes, he sets out today what he has prepared to do for a long time. But, this day he probably will not kill a deer nor will he the next day or the next. But, you can’t tell him that he won’t ever because he believes that eventually his time is coming. And, that is exactly what keeps him going and what drives his wife batty. Explain it, I can’t. You know why? Because I am a victim of this horrible disease. But, the difference between me and the rest of those insane deer hunters is the fact that I am going to kill a buck the first morning.

From the Opp News, October 1974

VERY UNUSUAL TURKEY CALLERS?
Now, my brother Willard could take a leaf and blow on it and make it sound like a turkey hen yelping! He could also take the tubing from aerosol cans and put them together and suck on it and it surely would sound like a hen a-yelping. But I want to relate a true story about a fellow who fooled a gentleman on how to make a sound like a turkey yelping.

It happened in downtown Opp , Alabama way back in the '70's. A local UPS truck driver stopped at the Auto Parts Store and made a delivery. While there he took two STP cans, rubbed them together, and at the same time he yelped with his mouth. The proprietor of the Western Auto Store next door happened to be listening and was greatly impressed. Later a worker in this gentleman’s store looked and saw the owner rubbing two STP cans together to see if he could make the same sound that would imitate a turkey hen yelping. It didn’t. Shortly thereafter this incident made its round among friends and everyone enjoyed a good laugh at Mr. H’s expense.

I DIDN’T MEAN TO, BUT I FOOLED HIM TWICE
I was directing a session at the Wiregrass Christian Camp in Chancellor, Alabama many years ago. During the morning chapel service I was making announcements and mentioned that after the evening hike we would enjoy eating watermelons that friends had brought. I mentioned that these watermelons were peculiar in that they had seeds only on one side. I continued talking and soon I saw one of my counselors raise his hand. Now I had hoped that one of the campers would fall for my joke but no, this preacher ~ who was in graduate school at a major university located in the eastern section of the state of Alabama ~ asked, “Brother Elliott, what about those watermelons with seeds on just one side?” Of course I had no recourse but to answer that the seed were only to be found on the inside of the melons.


Later, when the sun had set and we all gathered under the lights near the pavilion, the melons were cut and everyone was enjoying cold watermelons. I had eaten my slice down to the rind and had broken the slice into two pieces and, to have some fun, I began rubbing the outside of the rinds together and in the shadows, where no one could see very well, I began to yelp while rubbing the rinds together. The kids began to laugh and thought I was pretty good at making the sound of a hen yelping. Everyone was enjoying the melons and having fun. About 10 minutes later, this preacher friend and graduate student appeared with two pieces of watermelon rinds in his hands and said to me, “Brother Elliott, show me how you made that sound.” I said to myself, "You are in trouble". (You see this fellow was much bigger than me and a dear friend but I could just see him choking me for fooling him once more.) Well, anyway, I said, "Jimmy, be sure to place the rinds together with some of the lines touching one another and then begin rubbing". He did and I yelped. It was then with lightning speed I wrapped my arms around his waist and arms and quickly said, “Jimmy, I hope you love me.”
SOME MISUNDERSTOOD SOUND ADVICE
These two football players from the Pleasant Home University (I am going to be very careful here and be politically correct so my life will not be in danger ~ you may choose the names of the universities of your choice in telling this joke) went deer hunting and got into their tree stands early one morning. It wasn’t long until along came a couple of football players from Hacoda College. They quietly spoke to one another and the HC football players went deeper into the forest. About 30 minutes later the PHU football players heard a shot back in the woods. Soon they saw the HC ball players dragging a 10 point buck that weighed nearly 200 pounds! The players from the PHU bragged on their kill and made a suggestion to the HC players that it would be easier on them if they would drag the deer by the antlers instead of its hind legs. The HC players thought they would follow that advice. Some 30 minutes later one of the HC players said to the other one, “You know it is easier to drag this deer by the antlers!” The other player replied, “It sure is, but we are getting further from the truck!”

'nuff said.

Fire at Will

In 1970 my family and I were living in the city of Greenville , Alabama and I was working with the Walnut Street congregation. I became good friends with Max Autrey and asked if I could hunt squirrels on the family plantation that was located in the Butler-Lowndes County area, and that contained some 3,500 acres. The area consisted of beautiful ridges and fertile valleys with a couple of streams of water. It reminded me so much of where I grew up in northwest Georgia except the ridges were not as tall. When I began hunting squirrels I noticed that there were turkey and deer tracks everywhere and I had never hunted either one. So I laid down my father’s old Excel single shot 16 gauge shotgun and bought me a Winchester 12 gauge shotgun. To say that I was a novice would be an understatement of the fact. But I did see the wild game. Some turkeys were black and others were bronze. I saw two varieties of quail and even small herds of deer. I finally killed a wild turkey one morning during the fall season and that lit a flame in my heart. The area at that time was a virtual game preserve. I was in ‘hog heaven’. I would leave before daylight and spend the entire day hunting. The only noise I heard besides the sounds of nature was an airplane that would occasionally pass over the area. I remember that one morning while I sitting at the base of a tree that a squirrel came down and barked at me like it was going to attack me. There were squirrels everywhere with hardwood trees in abundance.

My two oldest sons, Tim and Joel, really wanted me to take them hunting and so one Saturday morning I took them. It was a very cold frosty morning. We parked on a ridge, walked across the valley and crossed a stream of water and it was there on the side of a ridge, where I saw so many squirrels, that I instructed them to sit very still and listen very carefully for these pesky rodents. In the distance and across a beautiful green field that was now white with frost I heard loud noises being made by turkeys. I told the boys that I was going to walk around the bottom of the ridge and try to find out what all the noise was about. I also told them if they had a shot at a squirrel to go ahead and shoot. While I wanted them to have a successful hunt I did not know at that time the full consequences of my instructions to them and how it would affect my hunting. So I left them and began walking slowing around the beautiful frost covered field when in my peripheral vision I caught movement and I thought it was perhaps large birds flying across that field. It was then that I looked and what I saw startled me. It was a large herd of deer running and what a beautiful sight that was to behold. I could not begin to tell how many antlers I saw. It was like a dream come true. I had never seen such a sight before in my life. My heart was racing and the adrenalin was flowing freely. Will they come near enough for me to get a shot? Which one will I shoot? These thoughts flooded my mind. But in an instant, the answer came. It was then that my oldest son shot twice and my dream came to an abrupt end. That herd of deer turned on the afterburners and I saw them no more. Soon after, the boys came and in their hands were two dead squirrels. They said, “Look what we killed.” What could I do but brag on their accomplishment. I did say to them, “you should have seen what I saw”. Of course I had to take a picture of the boys with their very dead squirrels to give credence to their story telling about how on a frosty morn they became great hunters.