Back in 1996, some friends came up from Homer, Louisiana. to Harris County
to do some deer hunting. This was an annual event; as was the Harris County
group of my friends, of going down there for Duck hunting and Red fishing in
January. As always something eventful would happen to make the visit
memorable.
I had permission to go Bow hunting only on Mr. Paulk's land up near Mountain
Top on Pine Mountain Ridge. This area is just outside the State Park on
lands that once was part of what was known, in the late 1950's, as Royal
Lodge. Historically speaking Royal Lodge was once a hunting preserve of
exotic wild animals from around the world owned by Mr. John Amos the AFLAC
founder. Mr. Paulk's land was over crowed with deer, that were eating all
the plants around his house and garden as well as feed crops he planted for
his sheep that he kept on his farm. He allowed me to bring in friends to bow
hunt only if I was with them. The perfect place to take the Cajuns opening
Saturday of Bow Season!
The Cajuns arrive on Thursday night with their camper. We set up their camp
in my back yard and say good night around midnight. Friday they went to town
to get Ga. Hunting licenses and supply's. The hunt was on!
Friday night we all go across the street to eat at Pine Lake Supper Club.
Don the owner talked us into staying a while; play pool, talk and have a few
beers as he hadn't seen the Cajuns since last year. We get in bed a 2 o'
clock am with plans to leave to setup for hunt at 5am. We leave on time for
the mountain and I get everyone to their place to hunt as dawns light is
beginning. I tell Fred and Randy that I will go up the slope between them
and the Cajuns as day light is coming fast and sit by a bush I saw and not
disturb their hunt trying to make my stand location. That I did! ( my real
reason was I was dog tired and figured I'll sleep on the slope on a moss
patch I knew of; they could hunt, I could sleep and everybody would be
happy.)Looks like a plan to me!!
The morning sun breaks and warms me up as I sleep on this quite peaceful
mountain; suddenly I am awakened by a loud sound of gravel sliding down the
hill. I sit up to see what this is about just in time to duck back down as a
large racked buck jumps over me as he charges down the mountain. I realize
that when he had jumped me I had hollered out in surprise and scared the
buck as bad as he had scared me. Fred and Randy had heard my yell but didn't
know what wild critter had made that sound. As they look in that direction
they see the buck bound across the brook and come out near Fred. A nice 10
pointer, so Fred takes aim and fires his arrow. Crack was the sound as the
arrow sticks in a small tree Fred didn't see just between him and the buck.
The deer bounds away unharmed, but now in range for Randy to shoot. He takes
aim as the bucks antlers glassine in the sun, crack again as he dead centers
a broken pine stump he didn't notice as he sited the deer. Buck Fever, Deer
2-hunters nothing!
 I start down the mountain towards Randy and Fred as I can hear them talking
and knew their hunt was over. We sit down near the brook on some ferns and
the three parts of the story a merged closer to the truth of the events of
the morning. Soon we heard and saw the Cajuns coming to our voices. We then
all sat around as they told us they too had shot at that same deer early
that morning and also had objects they didn't notice block or misdirect
their arrows flight. I had been the closer to the deer but the only one that
had no shot. They all laughed! As we sat around admiring the mountains
picturesque view and eat or snacks from our pockets, Randy began to tell us
of a squirrel that since first light had stayed near him all morning, some
times as close a 3 ft. and barked at him. He said he finally threw a pine
comb a it to run it away, but it kept coming back. It was still by his blind
we he came to meet Fred after the deer went trough. I pull a bag of Tom's
Peanuts out of my coat pocket and pass them around. I look up on a limb just
above us and there is a squirrel calmly watching us. Suddenly it jumps to
the ground and run to me and stops at my boots. Everyone stays still as we
watch this young squirrel calmly walk down my pants leg and climb in my coat
pocket. I froze, but look to the pocket, in awe as this was very unusual .
The movement of this squirrel had stopped. I took a chance and looked in the
pocket and low and behold it had went to sleep in my pocket. A hunting
version of Ray Stevens" Squirrel in the Church" came to mind as I moved
around a little and conversation in our group started up again with the main
subject being me and the squirrel in my pocket. What If became the lead
words of most sentences. I got up and walked, I shook the pocket, we laughed
and talked. The most the squirrel ever did was stand up and look out of the
pocket and then lay down again and go to sleep. I buttoned the pocket on the
coat, got in the truck with Fred to ride home. Nothing bothered it at all,
it just slept! Three days later I still have a squirrel in my house sleeping
and eating. It was a young adolescent and soon was let go outside in the
yard.
Nothing like the wild life in Harris County!
Thanks, Ron
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