All About Pocket Knives

I want to add some more to what I've already wrote and if there is any interest I'll try to continue with some "old yarn". I'm full of it I guess, as I grew up around a lot of the "last of the old folks" and was raised in what probably some would consider old ways. It was just a way of life to me and I guess I thought everyone was exposed to the same lifestyle.

Kenneth, the fox hunter I talked about was also a "mule man." I said in the earlier posts that "hides" brought a premium in the late ' 70's and maybe early ' 80's. So as with just about anything, from aluminum cans to mussel shells, it brought every hustler within gunshot out of the woodwork. The hides I'm referring to are animal skins. For this area it was primarily fox, coon, coyote, opossum, muskrat and a few others, but this will give you an idea. I'm not a hunter of any fashion anymore, but through talking to guys I know, hides aren't worth the time it takes to skin them now. Although it don't seem like it to me, this was about 30 yrs ago. A big coon could fetch $30-$40 and a fox or coyote would be in the $75 and up range. The animals mentioned aren't used for food and the prices being low before this time had built the populations up to I would assume a high that in all actuality needed to be thinned out just for their own survival. I also previously mentioned that fox and coon hunter's (in this case, hunter's who ran dogs) wouldn't dream of killing one of these animals, as the thrill was in the hunt. Even to make a few bucks when the hides got high, it would make a good case for biting off the nose to spite the face. I called the guys hustlers who started hunting these animals for monetary value simply because I don't think of them as "hunters" really, just opportunists. I have absolutely nothing against them personally because I have done this same type of thing in my lifetime. I never killed an animal for its hide but I have been known to dip into the pot when it runneth over. Divorced now, but at one time I had a wife who was a very good stay at home mom and 2 daughters. I worked 7 days a week for years and years until we divorced. I kept the girls and that meant staying in home more and I had to make money any way I could, honestly mind you. BUT this was me that didn't take these hustle hunter's personal........the TRUE hound hunter's very much took it personally. They were killing what they liked to hunt with hounds, for pleasure of the hunt. I knew quite a few men that were hide hunters and I never knew a single one to own a hound for the purpose of getting hides. Well how did they do it? I can name a few ways I know about. The worst or at least in my opinion, was I will call poaching. I think this would be the proper term here, and correct me if I'm wrong, because it's the only way I know to describe it. Here was one way they did it which may have been legal, I don't know but certainly unsportsman like in my opinion. Probably around for years but unheard of by me at this time, since I was still a sprout, were recorded calls for specific animals. The ones I seen were records and cassette tapes. The one's I remember best were the "rabbit in distress" and "chicken" tapes. The rabbit tape was used for coyote's and foxes and the chicken was used primarily for foxes. If any of you have hunted rabbits, you probably have at one time or another heard a rabbit after being shot that didn't die. They make an absolutely horrible "scream" sound, high pitched and piercing. That was the sound of this record or tape, meant to fool the coyote or fox into thinking a rabbit was in distress and easy prey for the taking. The chicken tape was just a squawking chicken. The fox in the henhouse thing used here. I will add that there were rumor's floating around about the rabbit tapes in particular that they had slowly killed a rabbit to make this recording. I don't like to think they did this but way back in the back of mind, I think the possibility is very high. This WAS the "70's and probably a pre-period on the drastic measures taken against such things today. Also the with the technology of today, they can do just about anything as folks well know. I know this kind of thing is politically incorrect for today to openly talk about but I wanted to include it as part of the story being told as I want to be as accurate as my memory will let me be. So back to the hide hunters. To help describe the area I live in, there is not a single traffic light in the entire county in which I live, today. So as you can imagine, 30 years ago, it would have been very easy to find a secluded spot to do your after hours hunting. They would hunt in at least pairs to be most effective and park their truck where they intended to take the animals being hunted. The tape or record player was connected to the cigarette lighter and sat in the bed of the truck. They would get in the bed also (guns ready) and start the "music." They had massive spotlights and when the time was right, one guy threw the light on the approaching animals and the other guy done the shooting. Many, many animals were taken in this very fashion. Like I stated, I don't know about the legality of this practice but it certainly lacked sportmanship in my opinion. This manner didn't really harm anyone but the animals being sought. Another method to get hides was of course trapping. This was a different story altogether. No one trapped at this time and although most everyone knew the basic technique it wasn't a practiced "hobby." So where is the best place to trap? Why where the foxes are naturally! For a little history on the fondness these old fox hunter's had for the animals I'll tell you a couple of things I can remember they did. I remember them having foxes shipped in here, and at a very great expense for that time period. Not only the foxes native to our area which are the GRAY fox and RED fox, but breeds not naturally found here. Sometimes they got in fox pups and sometimes they would get full grown foxes that had been trapped to be shipped for this purpose. Does anyone know the correct term for a fox pup? Come on before you google........A baby fox is called a kit. The only 2 types I can remember them shipping in different from the gray and red where what they called a SILVER fox and a BLUE fox. The blue I think was the rarer of the 2. They also bought ALL chickens anyone had to sell through the winter to feed "their" foxes. These would be turned lose alive and they also gathered up all the "corpses" after the weekend chicken fights......shhhhhh. So maybe you can imagine how these men felt when people started killing THEIR foxes. The foxes of course belonged to no one but we will say the actual hunter's were conservationists, conserving the life of the fox.....and the hide hunters were preservationists preserving an extra spot in their wallet for the money the hides would bring? Are either wrong? I can't answer for YOU, but aside from the spotlight hunting I feel both had every right to do what they did. The romantic side of me tends to lean towards the houndsmen, as most were either family or well known neighbors- which have become extinct themselves.......but that's a WHOLE other story in itself...............OK here I have bombarded a short book on you guys once again........BLAME PA KNIVES THIS TIME!!!! This of course is in the General category, so if anyone wants to hear anymore of this type of stuff let me know. I love talking (and writing) about it. Let me know what you think please.......good or bad. Do you like to read about it or had you rather Old Cope just shut up? Let's here from YOU........................


Brad

Brad we use to go out on nice nights with lawn chairs, a couple of pallets to burn for a campfire, we might carry a gun if it was snakey. We'd turn the dogs loose and sit around and listen to the dogs have a couple of races, whittle and spit in the fire. Come to think of it I dont recall ever seeing a fox.
Good times man good times.

Don't wait for me Brad. I can read faster than you can write, so as soon as you're rested, I'll be waiting for the next installment.


I did know what 'kits' were. I caught one once, and thought to take it home for a pet.

I was walking a field, looking for Indian artifacts when I heard a vixen 'bark' nearby in the woods. Investigating, I spotted her trying to lead me away from the area, and after a brief search, found the den in a steep dirt bank. I laid down above it, waiting for the kits to show. The first time I tried to grab one I found out how quick the little buggers were. After a much longer wait they came out again, and I caught one.

It snuggled in the crook of my arm like a puppy, so I walked back to my car and placed it on the seat of my ' 66 Catalina, where it curled up next to my leg, looking like nap time. Until I turned the key in the ignition !

My impression was that it jumped up, ran up the dashboard, across the headliner, and down the back seat, at least twice in 2 seconds, pissing the whole time.

That was the second lesson I learned about foxes. Their piss stinks ! I finally got ahold of the little guy and carried him back to the den. I don't know if he remembered me for very long, but I was reminded of him every time the weather turned rainy, and his 'aroma' seeped from the cloth upholstery of that old Pontiac.

Fran

great stuff guys!

fran, you need a pet bobcat!

Fran when I hit that third paragraph you wrote I exploded!!!!! I could picture that in my head the whole time I was reading! I never stumbled across a den of kits but I have brought most every other critter home which for one reason or another ALWAYS turns into a mistake. These animals are WILD for a purpose and need no domestication (at least not from me!).....GREAT STORY and I loved it.......I'm still laughing about you and that fox in the car!!


Brad

EDIT::::Ok Fran I had to read that again and when I did I just happen to glance over at your avitar and imagined IT was you looking at that fox through those big ole glasses while he was doing his acrobatics!!!! I'm crying here!!!

Glad you enjoyed it Brad, I'll be waiting for your next.

I dragged home about everything too, and learned a lot. Half frozen, dead looking quail, if thawed and revived in a warm kitchen, will sing in gratitude every morning at first light. Hibernating deer mice do not go back to sleep if brought into the house. 'Possums are not friendly. Crows are smarter than many of the people I've had to work with.

Do you think Johnnie is trying to trick me about the bobcat ?


Fran

why fran, i would not stoop so low. recuperating wild animals is a noble but sometimes risky venture! but as long as permanant disfigurement is'nt the result... makes a great story. thanks

Every kid around had a baby groundhog for a pet, when I was a kid. They are fun AT FIRST! They will chew holes in your walls and your sofa/couch will become they're new den when they become a little older. The grey colored whistle pigs are in no way as mean as the red ones. We would catch full grown possums and play with them a day or two before we turned them loose. We didn't kill everything we saw in the woods, like people today do. We were taught to only take (kill) what was needed to eat. Nothing was to be wasted. A person was looked down on very badly if they had taken something just for bragging rights and not for need. Great story Brad, brings back lots of memories for me. Please, continue with more.

Sauconian wrote:Don't wait for me Brad. I can read faster than you can write, so as soon as you're rested, I'll be waiting for the next installment.

Same here Brad. Great story....do continue

Fran, that was too funny

There's a place not far from where I live where they kept foxes in a several acre "pen" and hunted them ont the weekends. I don't know if they hunted on horseback or with dogs.

I believe that particular type of,"hunting"(?) is referred to as,"jacking" or jack-lighting" and it is(in most states)illegal as a 3 story cathouse(Nevada excepted).Love the stories.

I had a friend who used to run a home for abandoned and abused(neglected)exotic animals.He was quite a character;nicknamed,"Bunyan"because of his height(6ft.9in.tall,280lbs.,a full beard and he wore fatigues all the time)his place at one time held a cougar(someone's pet(!),an orangutan,a 14ft.python,and a one armed chimpanzee.

The neighbors used to freak when one of the animals invariably got loose.The orangutan was the worst.After he got his arm ripped open while trying to coax the 'tan out of a tree,he finally tranquilized him.

The python got loose once and was gone for nearly two months.One of his helpers freaked when she tripped over the snake in the basement of the shop.The snake had apparently got down there and curled up in a dark corner;going into a state of semi-hibernation.Good thing as a 14 ft.python is nothing to mess around with.They can move with surprising speed and wrap around you VERY quickly.

The funniest thing was with the chimp.Her name was Sally and she had lost her arm in an encounter with another chimp.She had been savagely bitten badly enough to require surgical removal of her arm.Sad because she was extremely gentle and loved people.

We went into downtown Boston one night and Bunyan had dressed her up in an overcoat.We walked into a bar we frequented and all sat at the bar.When the bartender realized what Sally was,he got really pissed and threw us out.We would never give her alcohol;we were just having a little fun.

Sadly Bunyan had to give up the shop after the neighbors petitioned the town to revoke his permits.They claimed he was running an illegal zoo.Too bad because his interests were always with the animals.

K7 - doncha just hate bureaucracy ?

When I was in college (yeah, I made past 6th grade), my roomie had an exceptional talent for taming wild critters... We caught a boar possum one night - remember how you can kick AT a possum, and they play dead ? Well, Steve kicked this possum over towards me - that kinda angered the old boy, so we punted him back and forth, for a minute. Finally Steve picked him up by the tail, and we got him in the turtlehull, and carried him to the dorm. Before the night was over, Steve had him eating popcorn, out of his hand.

Then we moved on to Armadillo's. (Possum on the half-shell, ya know). I caught this sow, one afternoon - carried her back to the dorm, and Steve made a pet outta her. We had a pink ribbon collar on her, and late night, we'd take her out to "do her business". She lived with us, for about a month - she loved to jump up on my cot, then onto the window sill and "sun" herself. One afternoon, the dorm mother was coming back from the store, and saw Maggie in the window sill and marched right down to our room... yeah, we had to take her back to the woods. I don't remember perzackly, but I think we had to pay $3 apiece to the general fund, as a fine.

I've had coons and squirrels, etc...but never a fox. Snakes are just targets, as far as I'm concerned.

Good memories,
JR

EDIT: THAT SECOND SENTENCE DIDN'T COME OUT RIGHT!! I meant to say: I'm sure that a lot of you know ABOUT THE LEGALITY OF HUNTING!! SORRY FOR SOUNDING SMART AS THAT WAS NOT MY INTENTION........I'll start back talking about trapping and trappers. I'm sure there are guys who know about trapping on here but that's not relating to this story. If memory serves me correctly you need a trapping license and there is something I remember about numbering the traps. At any rate, in this county where fox and coon hounds had run freely for years, there were now animal traps being placed that occasionally trapped the hound. As you can imagine this really angered the hunters. Now instead of driving to the usual spots to round up their dogs, they had to scour the woods making sure none were in traps. I said earlier I didn't hunt anymore although I never was a threat of distinction to rabbits and deer, the only animals I ever hunted. I have grown very soft hearted and would have to be starving to kill an animal now days. I would like to say I have no ill feelings toward hunters (except bird hunters!) I just feel hunting animals is not a sport, it should be done as a means of gathering food for one's self or family. I'm going to say of the modern hunters that I know, 99% would be a safe estimate as to people who don't kill animals for the intended purpose. This is why I quit hunting. It is now a bragging rights sport which is not why we should kill animals. To me, keeping a food plot baited for deer or any other animals and roosting in a tree like a vulture waiting for a hungry animal to approach is pretty sad. I'm sure some won't like this but it's how I feel. I have killed many deer myself and I even spotlighted several, but you know what.....we ATE every single one of them. They were on my land and I killed them to eat. I know LOTS of guys who kill animals and after they've showed them off for their bragging fix, they get dumped in a ditch or the woods. If this is hunting to you.....shoot away I guess.
Anyway hounds started getting caught in these traps and at best turned up very sore and bruised for days and at worst, they were never found and died right there in that trap. I have seen more than a few dogs that chewed their legs off and hobbled home. Most of the time infection would have already set up and they would have to be put down. Sometimes one would recoup and never be a hound again but just live it's days out around the other dogs, 3-legged of course. This brought all manner of retaliations from verbal arguments to shootings. I can't remember anyone being killed but I do remember a couple of guys being shot. Lots of fist fights AND at least one highly publicized lawsuit. HOUNDSMEN VS TRAPPERS!!! I can't recall the turnout but I do remember this is when I learned ALL bodies of running water at least in KY are public property, which means, if done legally, trapping was allowed. Now here is the kicker to this law: getting to the bodies of running water. Anyone can keep you from crossing their land but for instance your neighbor could allow a trapper to put a boat in the water on his land and it was perfectly legal to float right through your property as long as the trapper didn't leave the water. I knew this sure was one thing that turned neighbor against neighbor and family against family. If you happen to be an unlucky land owner with friends on one side wanting to trap and friends on the other side saying don't let them trap, you were in a predicament. But as with most things the price went back to nothing and "the get rich quick guys" went off on another venture, but there remained hard feelings for these practices that never did heal. So now even the fox hunting is all but gone. richied mentioned about a pen that was hunted in his area and one is still here and presently being used but very little. This came about as it got harder to hunt for various reasons the way they used to openly hunt. This pen known as "THE FOX PEN" has 300+ acres, fenced in its entirety. To the best of my knowledge there is only one older guy who still hunts it and a few youg'ens that the old timers would be ashamed of. I talked with him a couple of years ago and he told me they only keep coyotes in there now. He told me the reason but I can't remember why they keep the coyote instead of keeping it stocked with foxes. I'm going to attache an email I sent to a fellow member about a fox hunter as we corresponded about the subject. I spent the last remaining days of life with 2 of these fine men. Kenneth, the one mentioned mostly in this, died of cancer. I was milking cows at the time and went to sit with him every night when I got done milking after they said there was nothing more to be done. He had made them bring him home from the hospital because he wanted to spend his last days at HOME. There on the end he didn't even know I was there, but I would sit by his bed and talk to his wife. I hope if nothing else, I brought her some pass time, as she sat with him daily and watched him go. This other man, Bill, well I'll let you read what I had already wrote:

Probably about 5 yrs ago the last GREAT fox hunter of my time died and the sport seems to have died with him. I'm sort of glad it did in a way too. All those hard drinking, rebel rousing, good ole boys I grew up knowing (looking up to) just knew what they liked. Good times and foxhunts (in this case). I don't really think my generation could have done it justice. So yeah I am glad some things died out with the old timers so it didn't get ruined. Come to think of it I spent the last few days of life with the last 2 of the great fox hunters around here. One I only got to know in the last few years of his life. But mine and his relationship was something else. Bill was from here originally and went to IA where he farmed with his wife, never had no children. So his wife leaves him for another man and takes everything from him and he comes back "home" in his later years with practically nothing. I want to add that Bill wasn't really all that old but his health was getting bad and he was showing it...hard. He was maybe 60 when he died but it was his lungs that got him. He got to where he couldn't breath and the docs finally narrowed it down to that lethal corn spray Paraquat. He used to spray this with no mask or nothing for protection. There was at that time a little country store that ran a restaurant in back, so I run into the cratchiest, nastiest mouthed, vulgarest, down right orneriest critter I had ever came across in the store one morning. I eat my breakfast and didn't speak, just listening. I was a rebel rouser around that time, though slowing down quite a bit, and I thought to myself.....I'm gonna put if off as long as I can but me and him will tangle one of these days. Bill was fairly healthy at this time, I think he knew he was pretty sick but it hadn't taken its tole yet. But wouldn't you know it, somehow that old rascal and I became the best of friends. I can't for the life of me remember how it started, I just know I was with him there at the end and holding that old critter's hand when he could barely take a breath in ICU. He had told his sister how to arrange his funeral, never mentioned it to me. The only thing he did say to me was that when they brought him home, his toes would be sticking up......and Old Bill was right. But I helped carry Bill to his grave and laid hopefully to rest. His tombstone has a picture of his hunting dogs etched on it. Right there on the end Bill was the most dangerous man I'd ever known. It turned out he never hurt anyone, except with his mouth, but it was in him and folks just didn't realize. Before he went to the hospital, I went in the store for my breakfast one morning and Bill was cussing and raising all kinds of hell. I finally got to the back to see who the recipient was and Bill was going off on him. I said "what the hell is wrong with you Bill?" to which started another flurry of cursing and swearing. Without the bad words what had bothered was the guy told Bill he should quit smoking with his lungs that bad. Well that's all it took because NOBODY told Old Bill Johnson what to do. I actually felt sorry for the man. So trying to squelch the hellfire in him I said well, hell Bill you do need to quit. His response to me......he smiled and said "yah I know it pard, sit down and eat".......stunned everyone in the place. But he was dangerous. If the wrong man had said the wrong word at the wrong time, Bill would have killed him in a heartbeat. He knew his time was short and he didn't care.


That was the email I sent but I would like to add another word about BILL JOHNSON. He became a dear friend to me, the kind that don't come around much in this life. If you can say you had one, you are lucky indeed. When he moved back here, he bought a small, very old, travel trailer he parked on Kenneth's land. He stayed in that old trailer up to the end until his sister found him almost dead in there one winter morning. She took him home with her and he stayed with her until they carried him to the ambulance. It was his last time he was here, alive anyway. He died in the hospital. All he had left from his marriage was his old green Dodge pick-up, his hounds, and his old mobile home. I'm going to the cemetery as soon as I can but I think it has his truck also engraved along side those fox hounds. About a year after Kenneth died, his widow had an auction and sold all the things she didn't need. She of course did the right thing, but I was at the auction and there was a sadness seeing all those things scattered around. A man can accumulate all his life and the worldly things he held dear can be auctioned and sold in half a day, and soon to be forgotten. I'm not married and want my daughters to do this very thing with my stuff, as they would have no use for it but the money can help them. All we will own in the end is a 6' plot of ground......

Brad

EDIT AT TOP OF PAGE.......FIRST SENTENCE......