| "Coon Hutin"
Years ago The Log was a
funny ole jigger, there was nothing from pitch and toss
to manslaughter we didn't take up. We told you fish
stories which were on the level (the Judge told most of
'em) and we recited tales of deer shooting on Long Island
that were corkers; some of these stories we actually got
money for, from editors of big sportsmens magazines (the
kind of fellows that wear high hats).
Then i gave it to you
straight about duck shooting.
"Hair breadth escapes
by flood and field."
But we never told you
anything about coon huntin' on Long island and the reason
why you did not get treated to a coon hunt was, at that
time we weren't in "the know;" we knew as much
about coons and coon dogs at that time as an agronomist
knows about a crap game.
Now we know.
"Doc" Chambers
(his right name is Luther Chambers) everybody calls him
"Doc"" because they like him.
If "Doc" had lived
five or six hundred years ago in one o those countries
where they have Lords and Dukes "Doc" would
have been a Prince.
The best way we could do for
him n the way of decoration in this Democratic country
was "Doc."
I believe I am right when i
say that Doc Chambers is without exception the most
enthusiastic and scientific coon hunter on this side of
Jordon.
The greatest part of the
land where "Doc" hunt the raccoon is owned by
himslef and is situated in the vicinty of Port Jefferson,
Wading River, Coram, and Middle Island. This statement
should give food for thought; it goes to demonstrate the
marvelous unbounded everlasting resources of Long island.
Each member of
"Doc's" hunting outfit carries a compass, to be
lost in the trackless scrub oak or where the pines grow
tall at some seasons of the year, might mean privation,
hardship and disaster.
Here a river, there a lake
and bare spots too.
Doc Chamber has made a study
of this outfit and his extensive stables include ponies
which are as wise to the game as the battle scarred dogs
themselves.
It would be impossible to
approximate the value of such an outfit.
There are dogs in the
"DOC" outfit which are worth their weight in
gold. Such offers have been made and courteously
declined.
Each man carries a bicycle
lamp or electric light, and a 38 revolver, an axe, a hoe
and a pair of climbers completes the equipment.
I can't remember ever coming
in contact with a hunter that didn't have owl blood.
When Doc gives the order
"Boots and saddles!" and "let out the
dogs."
The boys are ready in a
jiffy and ye never saw a likelier lot. Dogs and horses
take up the spirit of the sport as eagerly as the boys.
Weather conditions have been
studied and a particular course decided upon.
Sun down! Before them a road
which soon will be left behind for it's in the thicket
the Raccoon abides. The black silhouettes of the pines,
the merry laugh, the crash of the twigs as they leap into
the underwood, then silence--the dogs are straining every
nerve, hush--The horsmen sit like graven forms--The ears
of the horses are faced toward the voice of the dogs-they
are running in a circle--hush--
That's Rattler!!
No~ Nothing doing-Yes! they
have a trail. Here's where the skill and cunning of the
hunter comes in, HE KNOWS WHAT THE DOGS ARE SAYING. One
dog has told him that a fox has crossed the line.
And woe be to the dog that
leaves the coon scent for that of the fox, even the
others of the pack will resent such action to the extent
of driving him back to the original "lift."
Back to the trail--Treed!
the hunter knows the coon is now up a tree, the dogs have
told him so. Now to tie the horses-- on foot to the
tree-- now -- --!
The dogs play a part that is
intensely interesting. Old Rattler puts one paw on the
tree and appears to point upward with the other. Some of
the dogs, knowing that the coon runs in pairs, break away
to get another trail--others remain with Rattler.
"The sun is down, the night is here."
Then "Wally"
(that's one of the boys) climbs up the tree, and it's
some treee that Wally can't climb-- The lights may be
directed so as Wally will have a chance to locate his
quarry.
There he is! Wally aims his revolver, bang! and the coon
falls to the ground, usually claws up, and a more
formidable armament could not be imagined. Doc says there
is not a dog in the world can beat a coon single-handed.
Here's where occurs a little unpleasantness between the
dogs and the coon.
It would be useless to
endeavor to describe the climax of the hunt, suffice is
to say the coon gets killed.
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