Someone posed the question in an online group: “What is the most unusual story you’ve ever covered?”
That was the easiest question I answered all week.
It was the coon hunters’ convention at the fairgrounds in Ada in 1980.
Coon hunting was a big deal in Pontotoc County when I was growing up, but I never got to go.
I was deathly allergic to poison ivy, so crashing around the woods in the dark was anything but a good idea.
And when I say deathly allergic, I mean that one time I caught a bad case of poison ivy from watching a documentary on the Discovery channel.
But I always liked coon dogs, especially their attitudes. Coon dogs are serious about the things that matter to them, like treeing yonder coon, but relaxed about everything else. Take a nap and maybe it’ll be gone when you wake up.
So, when I saw the flyer about the coon hunters’ convention, I was all over going to cover it.
Come Saturday, the fairgrounds was packed with four-wheel drives, waving tails and dog cages in the backs of pickups.
Hunters came from far and near to brag on their dogs, sip some potentially untaxed beverages from fruit jars stashed behind the seat and to just generally hang out and have a good time.
My favorite events were the treeing contest and the mule jumping.
The treeing contest was on this wise.
There was a pole maybe 20 feet high with a pulley at the top and a rope tied to cage with a coon in it.
The dogs were on leashes in a circle about 30 feet from the pole. If you can visualize the number of coon dogs shoulder to shoulder in a circle that size, you can imagine the decibels.
On a signal, the dogs were let loose and the coon was hoisted to the top of the pole.
Each dog had an impartial counter who was assigned to tally the number of times the dog barked until the closing signal 60 seconds later.
The dog with the most barks was the winner.
A lot money changed hands on side bets during the treeing contest and I’m pretty sure the winning dog got steak and gravy for supper instead of Jim Dandy.
My favorites were the redbones. They’re handsome dogs and I like the way they carry themselves.
A few years ago, I thought Martin might like a friend to play with during the day, so I brought home a redbone pup and named him C.F. (Guitar players will appreciate the name.)
They had a great time until they dug under the fence one day and took off. Martin came back when he got hungry, but I guess C.F. struck a trail and eventually started a new life.
The mule jumping was as interesting as the treeing contest, if not as loud.
If you have never seen a mule jump, you should. Unlike horses, which run up to a fence and leap over, a mule will squat on his hind legs and spring over the barrier, much like a person might do a standing high jump.
This allows a coon hunter to ride a mule to a fence, climb off and let the mule jump over. The hunter then climbs through the fence, remounts and rides on until the next barrier.
They had set up a bar, much like a highjumping bar, and the mules took their turns jumping it.
Some made it, some didn’t. Those in charge raised the bar and inch or two at a time until one mule cleared a height that no one could match.
When the day was done, there was one happy dog-owner, one happy mule-owner and a lot of empty fruit jars.