The Hunters' Feast Part 9

The racc.o.o.n is a creature of the woods. On the prairies and in treeless regions it is not known. It prefers heavy "timber," where there are huge logs and hollow trees in plenty. It requires the neighbourhood of water, and in connection with this may be mentioned a curious habit it has, that of plunging all its food into the water before devouring it.

It will be remembered that the otter has a similar habit. It is from this peculiarity that the racc.o.o.n derives its specific name of _Lotor_ (washer). It does not always moisten its morsel thus, but pretty generally. It is fond, moreover, of frequent ablutions, and no animal is more clean and tidy in its habits.

The racc.o.o.n is almost omnivorous. It eats poultry or wild fowls. It devours frogs, lizards, lame, and insects without distinction. It is fond of sweets, and is very destructive to the sugar-cane and Indian corn of the planter. When the ear of the maize is young, or, as it is termed, "in the milk," it is very sweet. Then the racc.o.o.n loves to prey upon it. Whole troops at night visit the corn-fields and commit extensive havoc. These mischievous habits make the creature many enemies, and in fact it has but few friends. It kills hares, rabbits, and squirrels when it can catch them, and will rob a bird's nest in the most ruthless manner. It is particularly fond of sh.e.l.l-fish; and the _unios_, with which many of the fresh-water lakes and rivers of America abound, form part of its food. These it opens as adroitly with its claws as an oyster-man could with his knife. It is partial to the "soft-sh.e.l.l" crabs and small tortoises common in the American waters.

Jake told us of a trick which the 'c.o.o.n puts in practice for catching the small turtles of the creek. We were not inclined to give credence to the story, but Jake almost swore to it. It is certainly curious if true, but it smacks very much of Buffon. It may be remarked, however, that the knowledge which the plantation negroes have of the habits of the racc.o.o.n surpa.s.ses that of any mere naturalist. Jake boldly declares that the 'c.o.o.n fishes for turtles! that it squats upon the bank of the stream, allowing its bushy tail to hang over into the water; that the turtles swimming about in search of food or amus.e.m.e.nt, spies the hairy appendage and lays hold of it; and that the 'c.o.o.n, feeling the nibble, suddenly draws the testaceous swimmer upon dry land, and then "cleans out de sh.e.l.l" at his leisure!

The 'c.o.o.n is often domesticated in America. It is harmless as a dog or cat except when crossed by children, when it will snarl, snap, and bite like the most crabbed cur. It is troublesome, however, where poultry is kept, and this prevents its being much of a favourite. Indeed, it is not one, for it is hunted everywhere, and killed--wherever this can be done--on sight.

There is a curious connection between the negro and the racc.o.o.n. It is not a tie of sympathy, but a kind of antagonism. The 'c.o.o.n, as already observed, is the negro's legitimate game. 'c.o.o.n-hunting is peculiarly a negro sport. The negro is the 'c.o.o.n's mortal enemy. He kills the 'c.o.o.n when and wherever he can, and cats it too. He loves its "meat," which is pork-tasted, and in young 'c.o.o.ns palatable enough, but in old ones rather rank. This, however, our "darkie" friend does not much mind, particularly if his master be a "stingy old boss," and keeps him on rice instead of meat rations. The negro, moreover, makes an odd "bit"

(twelve and a half cents) by the skin, which he disposes of to the neighbouring "storekeeper."

The 'c.o.o.n-hunt is a "nocturnal" sport, and therefore does not interfere with the negro's regular labour. By right the night belongs to him, and he may then dispose of his time as he pleases, which he often does in this very way.

The negro is not, allowed to carry fire-arms, and for this reason the squirrel may perch upon a high limb, jerk its tail about and defy him; the hare may run swiftly away, and the wild turkey may tantalise him with its incessant "gobbling." But the 'c.o.o.n can be killed without fire-arms. The 'c.o.o.n can be overtaken and "treed." The negro is not denied the use of an axe, and no man knows better how to handle it than he. The 'c.o.o.n, therefore, is his natural game, and much sport does he have in its pursuit. Nearly the same may be said of the opossum (_Didelphis Virginiana_); but the "'possum" is more rare, and it is not our intention now to describe that very curious creature. From both 'c.o.o.n and 'possum does the poor negro derive infinite sport--many a sweet excitement that cheers his long winter nights, and chequers with brighter spots the dull and darksome monotony of his slave-life. I have often thought what a pity it would be if the 'c.o.o.n and the opossum should be extirpated before slavery itself became extinct. I had often shared in this peculiar sport of the negro, and joined in a real 'c.o.o.n-chase, but the most exciting of all was the first in which I had been engaged, and I proffered my comrades an account of it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A 'c.o.o.n-CHASE.

"My 'c.o.o.n-chase took place in Tennessee, where I was sojourning for some time upon a plantation. It was the first affair of the kind I had been present at, and I was somewhat curious as to the mode of carrying it on.

My companion and inductor was a certain `Uncle Abe,' a gentleman very much after the style and complexion of our own Jake here.

"I need not tell you, gentlemen, that throughout the Western States every neighbourhood has its noted 'c.o.o.n-hunter. He is usually a wary old `n.i.g.g.e.r,' who knows all the tricks and dodges of the 'c.o.o.n. He either owns a dog himself, or has trained one of his master's, in that peculiar line. It is of little importance what breed the dog may be. I have known curs that were excellent `'c.o.o.n-dogs.' All that is wanted is, that he have a good nose, and that he be a good runner, and of sufficient bulk to be able to bully a 'c.o.o.n when taken. This a very small dog cannot do, as the 'c.o.o.n frequently makes a desperate fight before yielding. Mastiffs, terriers, and half-bred pointers make the best `'c.o.o.n-dogs.'

"Uncle Abe was the mighty hunter, the Nimrod of the neighbourhood in which I happened to be; and Uncle Abe's dog--a stout terrier--was esteemed the `smartest 'c.o.o.n-dog' in a circle of twenty miles. In going out with Uncle Abe, therefore, I had full confidence that I should see sport.

"On one side of the plantation was a heavily-timbered `bottom', through which meandered a small stream, called, of course, a `creek.' This bottom was a favourite _habitat_ of the 'c.o.o.ns, as there were large trees growing near the water, many of which were hollow either in their trunks or some of their huge limbs. Moreover, there were vast trellises of vines extending from tree to tree; some of them, as the fox and muscadine (_Vitis Labrusca_), yielding sweet grapes, of which the racc.o.o.ns are very fond.

"To this bottom, then, we directed our course, Abe acting as guide, and holding his dog, Pompo, in the leash Abe carried no other weapon than an axe, while I had armed myself with a double-barrel. Pompo knew as well as either of us the errand on which we were bent, as appeared from his flas.h.i.+ng eyes and the impatient leaps which he now and then made to get free.

"We had to cross a large corn-field, a full half-mile in breadth, before we reached the woods. Between this and the timber was a zigzag fence-- the common `rail' fence of the American farmer. For some distance beyond the fence the timber was small, but farther on was the creek `bottom,' where the 'c.o.o.ns were more likely to make their dwelling-place.

"We did not, however, proceed direct to the bottom. Abe knew better than that. The young corn was just then `in the milk,' and the 'c.o.o.n-hunter expected to find his game nearer the field. It was settled, therefore, that we should follow the line of the fence, in hopes that the dog would strike a fresh trail, leading either to or from the corn-field.

"It was now night--two hours after sundown. The 'c.o.o.n-chase, I have already said, is a nocturnal sport. The racc.o.o.n does range by day, but rarely, and only in dark and solitary woods. He often basks by day upon high limbs, or the broken tops, of trees. I have shot several of his tribe while asleep, or sunning themselves in such situations. Perhaps before they knew their great enemy man, they were less nocturnal in their activity. We had a fine moonlight; but so far as a view of the chase was concerned, that would benefit us but little. During the hunt there is not much to be seen of either dog or 'c.o.o.n, as it is always a scramble through trees and underwood. The dog trusts altogether to his nose, and the hunter to his ears; for the latter has no other guide save the yelp or bark of his canine a.s.sistant. Nevertheless, moonlight, or a clear night, is indispensable; without one or the other, it would be impossible to follow through the woods. A view of a 'c.o.o.n-chase is a luxury enjoyed only by the hats and owls.

"Pompo was now let loose in the corn; while Abe and I walked quietly along the fence, keeping on different sides. Abe remained in the field for the purpose of handing over the dog, as the fence was high--a regular `ten rail, with stalks and riders.' A 'c.o.o.n could easily cross it, but not a dog, without help.

"We had not gone more than a hundred yards, when a quick sharp yelp from Pompo announced that he had come suddenly upon something in the corn-field.

"`A varmint!' cried Abe; and the next moment appeared the dog, running up full tilt among the maize plants and up to the fence. I could see some dark object before him, that pa.s.sed over the rails with a sudden spring, and bounded into the timbers.

"`A varmint, ma.s.sa!' repeated Abe, as he lifted the dog over, and followed himself.

"I knew that in Abe's vocabulary--for that night at least--a `varmint'

meant a 'c.o.o.n; and as we dashed through the brushwood, following the dog, I felt all the excitement of a 'c.o.o.n-chase.

"It was not a long one--I should think of about five minutes' duration; at the end of which time the yelp of the dog which had hitherto guided us, changed into a regular and continuous harking. On hearing this, Abe quietly announced--

"`The varmint am treed.'

"Our only thought now was to get to the tree as speedily as possible, but another thought entered our minds as we advanced; that was, what sort of a tree had the 'c.o.o.n taken shelter in?

"This was an important question, and its answer involved the success or failure of our hunt. If a very large tree, we might whistle for the 'c.o.o.n. Abe knew this well, and as we pa.s.sed on, expressed his doubts about the result.

"The bark of Pompo sounded some hundred yards off, in the very heaviest of the bottom timber. It was not likely, therefore, that the 'c.o.o.n had taken to a small tree, while there were large ones near at hand. Our only hope was that he had climbed one that was not `hollow.' In that case we might still have a chance with the double-barrel and buck-shot.

Abe had but little hope.

"`He hab reach him own tree, ma.s.sa; an' that am sartin to be a big un wi' a hole near um top. Wagh! 'twar dat ar fence. But for de dratted fence ole Pomp nebber let um reach um own tree. Wagh!'

"From this I learned that one point in the character of a good 'c.o.o.n-dog was speed. The 'c.o.o.n runs well for a few hundred yards. He rarely strays farther from his lair. If he can beat his pursuer for this distance he is safe, as his retreat is always in a hollow tree of great size. There is no way of getting at him there, except by felling the tree, and this the most zealous 'c.o.o.n-hunter would not think of attempting. The labour of cutting down such a tree would be worth a dozen 'c.o.o.ns. A swift dog, therefore, will overtake the racc.o.o.n, and force him to the nearest tree--often a small one, where he is either shaken off or the tree cut down. Sometimes the hunter climbs after and forces him to leap out, so as to fall into the very jaws of the watchful dog below.

"In Abe's opinion Pompo would have `treed' his 'c.o.o.n before reaching, the bottom, had not the fence interfered, but now--

"`Told ye so, ma.s.sa!' muttered he, interrupting my thoughts. `Look dar!

dar's de tree--trunk thick as a haystack. Wagh!'

"I looked in the direction indicated by my companion. I saw Pompo standing by the root of a very large tree, looking upward, shaking his tail, and barking at intervals. Before I had time to make any farther observations Abe's voice again sounded in my ears.

"`Gollies! it am a b.u.t.tonwood! Why, Pomp, ole fellur, you hab made a mistake--de varmint ain't dar, 'c.o.o.ney nebber trees upon b.u.t.tonwood-- nebber--you oughter know better'n dat, ole fool!'

"Abe's speech drew my attention to the tree. I saw that it was the American sycamore (_Plata.n.u.s Occidentalis_), familiarly known by the trivial name, `b.u.t.tonwood,' from the use to which its wood is sometimes put. But why should the 'c.o.o.n not `tree' upon it, as well as any other?

I put the question to my companion.

"`'Cause, ma.s.sa, its bark am slickery. De varmint nebber takes to 'im.

He likes de oak, an' de poplum, an' de scaly-bark. Gos.h.!.+ but he am dar!' continued Abe, raising his voice, and looking outward--`Look yonder, ma.s.sa! He had climb by de great vine. Dat's right, Pomp! you am right after all, and dis n.i.g.g.a's a fool. Hee--up, ole dog! hee--up!'

"Following the direction in which Abe pointed, my eyes rested on a huge parasite of the lliana kind, that, rising out of the ground at some distance, slanted upward and joined the sycamore near its top. This had no doubt been the ladder by which the 'c.o.o.n had climbed.

"This discovery, however, did not mend the matter as far as we were concerned. The 'c.o.o.n had got into the b.u.t.tonwood, fifty feet from the ground, where the tree had been broken off by the lightning or the wind, and where the mouth of a large cavity was distinctly visible by the light of the moon. The trunk was one of the largest, and it would have been sheer folly (so we concluded) to have attempted felling it.

"We left the spot without farther ado, and took our way back to the corn-field.

"The dog had now been silent for some time, and we were in hopes that another `varmint' might have stolen into the corn.

"Our hopes were not doomed to disappointment. Pompo had scarcely entered the field when a second 'c.o.o.n was sprung, which, like the other, ran directly for the fence and the woods.

"Pomp followed as fast as he could be flung over; and this 'c.o.o.n was also `treed' in a few minutes.

"From the direction of the barking, we calculated that it must be near where the other had escaped us; but our astonishment equalled our chagrin, when upon arriving at the spot, we found that both the `varmints' had taken to the same tree!

"With some rather emphatic e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns we returned to the corn-field, and after a short while a third 'c.o.o.n was raised, which, like the others, made of course for the timber.

"Pomp ran upon his trail with an angry yelping, that soon changed into the well-known signal that he had treed the game.

"We ran after through brush and brake, and soon came up with the dog.