There’s thisyere thang that happens ever’ year down in th’ holler come fall, an’ it’s called huntin’ season. Now thet don’ coun’ fer the locals, cuz they be huntin’ all year roun’. Man’s gotta put food on th’ table. But ever’ fall we git theseyere big city fellers comin’ t’ our woods t’ come huntin’ and’ it shore ends up a mess, I kin tell you.
Now, down here in th’ holler, we don’ put a whole passel a importance on shoes, cuz we b’lieve a body’s gotta have hisse’f feet thet kin stan’ up t’ most anythang, and theseyere cityslickers don’ abide much by thet. They come up here wi’ them fancy boots an red checkered shirts an’ jackets an’ rifles and thangs you wouldn’ b’lieve ifn ya din’ see it with yore own eyes.
Us boys down here in th’ holler got a lot a huntin’ t’do, an’ we hunt fer th’ pot an’ make our own bullets, so we don’ waste nothin’, not like thesyere city fellers, shootin’ moose an’elk an’ sechlike. Tain’t even good eatin! They shoot it so they kin keep the haid and antlers, an’ thet’s plumb foolish, ifn y’ask me.
This big ol’ pickup wi’ them big wheels, like the ones on Bubba’s truck, comes down inta the holler an’ come to a stop, winders openin’ an’ growed men stickin’ their haids outn the winders and the feller whut’s drivin’ is laughin’ fit t’ bust a gut. Seems he let off a fart while they wus drivin’ an’ his frien’s din’ ‘ppreciate it. See whut I mean ‘bout them city folk?
I mean, ever’body farts, but ya jest say, ‘’scuse me,’ and ya carry on. Theresyere fellers wus carryin’ on like they never smelt a fart b’fore in their whole lives! It wus embarrasin’, thet’s whut it wus!
We got our own way a doin’ thangs an’ it don’ suit thesyere city folks none.
One time Abner an’ Buford wen’ out huntin’ quail, an’ we’uns load our own bullets, so we cain’t waste nothin’, not like them city folks. They wus walkin’ ‘long, real quiet like, when they seen a turkey, a real big un.
Buford, he done lif’ed his gun t’ shoot thet there bird, an’ Abner says t’him. ‘Whut in tarnation dya thank yore doin? Yore gun ain’t loaded!’
Buford, he comes right back at him. ‘Ain’t no time fer loadin’, he’s gittin’ away!’
We had a good ol’ laugh ‘bout thet one, but I kin tell ya, Buford, he kin shoot the eye outn a squirrel. An’ there ain’t thet much meat on a squirrel, so ya gotta shoot real careful, cuz it he’ps ifn ya save the fur.
But theseyere city fellers, I cain’t see how they gonna shoot anythin’ with th’ racket they’re makin’, but off they go and it wus all quiet agin, jes’ th’ way we like it, but come evenin’ an’ four a them fellers come back, carryin’ a big ol’ deer on them shoulders. Mighty nice, eight poin’ antlers, real big un.
I kinda looked at them, an’ said, ‘Din’ five a you go out this mornin’?’
Th’ one, he nodded an’ said, ‘Thet’s right, but Henry had hisse’f a heart attack, so we lef’ him there. Way we figgered, nobuddy’s gonna steal Henry, an’ we’ll go back an’ fetch him now, soon as this mother’s tied t’ the roof rack.’
Well, thet made a whole passel a sense t’ me, cuz folks is mighty quick to steal theirse’ves a deer ifn they see it lyin’ there, ready fer skinnin’. Now deer meat, thet’s good eatin’ right there. In th’ big city they call it venson, but it’s jes’ deer meat t’ us.
But ifn ya thank fishermen is liars, you ain’t heard nothin’ when it comes t’ huntin’.
Elmer done tol’ us he wen’ huntin’ up north in the Appalachians an’ thet there for’st gits so thick, a body cain’t see nothin’. So he wen’ an’ got hisse’f complete lost and he eaten all the food he brung with, so he wus mighty hungry an’ he on’y had hisse’f one bullet, so he had t’ make it count.
Well, he looked up an’ saw a passel a ducks headin’ south an’ he got hisse’f a bright idea. He waited till them suckers wus in a straight line an’ then he shot, an’ brung down five a them critters wi’ jes’ on bullet. But thet ain’t all! One a them ducks, he fell down onto a moose’s haid an’ killed thet there moose, jes’ like thet!
Thet moose, he kicked out when he died and kicked a rabbit in the haid, killin’ thet there rabbit plumb daid, but th’ rabbit wen’ flyin’ an’ hit Elmer in the stommick an’ knocked him inta the crick, an’ he come up with a pocket full a fish. Now I ain’t zackly say he’s lyin’ cuz I wusn’ there, but it shore soun’s like a whole pile a little lies on top a each other, makin’ out t’ be one big lie.
But he swears it’s true, an’ we ain’t gonna call a man a liar fer a little thang like thet, or we’d all be feudin’ all the time, and thet wouldn’ never do.
One a these fellers is tellin’ Bubba ‘bout his rifle, an’ how thet bullet is travellin’ at two thousand two hundred feet a second, an’ he got hisse’f a big deer wi’ thet there rifle. Bubba, he ain’t got no time fer these big city hunters, he says, ‘I got myse’f a bigger deer than thet with my truck, and I wus on’y doin’ fifty-five miles an hour. What dya thank a thet? Why’nt ya put li’l headlights on thet there bullet an’ slow it down a bit; you’ll kill a lot more deer thet way!’
Well, them city fellers din’ thank much a usns an’ our ways, so they lef’ agin t’ leave us in peace an’ carry on with our lives. Thang is, they din’ even have th’ decency to say ‘howdy-do’ t’ Hiram, an’ thet’s jes’ plain bad manners. He’s the Mayor a thisyere town an’ holler, an’ they gotta show a body some respec’, but them big city fellers never larned theirse’ves no manners, an’ they ain’t ever gonna larn ‘em in th’ big city.
It’s all nice ‘n’ peaceful down here in the holler agin’, wi’ them ducks comin’in an’ some real huntin’ t’ do, cuz we kin feel the cold weather comin’, an’ we gotta store up fer th’ winter. An’ there’s on’y one way t’ do thet, an’ thet’s ta fill th’ larders now, cuz in th’ winter we don’ wanna be out there lookin’ fer food, we jest wanna be cookin’ an’ eatin’ it.
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