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The author has had many adventures hunting on Dugdemona River in his pirogue. (Terry L. Jones)
December is one of my favorite times of year because hunting season is in full swing. I think I speak for most hunters when I say it’s not the kill that keeps me going back to the woods year after year, but rather the enjoyment of being in God’s outdoors and observing the myriad wildlife we are fortunate to have in Louisiana.
If you spend a lot of time in the woods over a long period of time (about sixty years in my case), you are bound to see some interesting things.
One of my most memorable moments occurred on a very cold December day when I was deer hunting in Dugdemona swamp. The cold weather had the cat squirrels stirring everywhere, and I enjoyed watching them scamper around my stand.
Eventually, nature called and I quietly stepped out to take care of business. While standing there, a flurry of activity at the base of a pin oak tree about twenty-five yards away caught my attention. It took a second to realize that it was a large bobcat chasing a squirrel around the tree trunk. They made two complete circles before the bobcat finally snatched the squirrel and ran into the woods. It happened in a flash but it is still one of the most remarkable things I’ve seen in the woods.
On another cold day, not far from that stand, I was sitting in my truck watching for deer to cross a small pipeline. It was about mid-morning when I saw movement on the edge of the right of way. Looking through my 12-power scope, I saw that it was a bobcat with three fairly large kittens. When they reached a warm, sunny spot in the middle of the pipeline, the female laid down and the kittens played around and on top of her. After a while, she got up and led the kittens into the thicket on the other side.
Two of my memories involve hawks. Late one afternoon, I was sitting against a tree deer hunting and was startled by an awful racket overhead. There was a tall, dead pine tree to my right and a hawk was chasing a big fox squirrel down the trunk. The hawk had its wings folded back like an F-14 and plummeted down the tree trunk scattering dead bark and broken limbs everywhere. It finally had to spread its wings to keep from hitting the ground and flew off. The lucky squirrel lived to chatter another day.
Many years later, I was floating down the creek in my pirogue flushing wood ducks out of the brush and got a shot off on a small flock that knocked feathers out of one squealer. It glided toward the water around a curve, but I was certain I’d find it.
Coming around the curve, however, there was no duck in sight. I was thinking I must not have hit it very hard, when loud splashing in some bushes got my attention. Out into the creek swam my duck with a big hawk perched on its back pecking away at it. The hawk flew off when it saw me and I was able to finish off the woody.
Deer hunting is my favorite outdoor activity, and I am still learning about their behavior. They are stealthy creatures and can sometimes be virtually invisible.
One morning, I was hunting out of my pirogue after Dugdemona had flooded the swamp. Only a few ridges were dry and I was creeping around them trying to spot deer that had taken refuge there.
Floating down the creek, I passed a small island just like I had done dozens of times before. This time, however, something didn’t look quite right.
I stared and stared, certain that something had caught my eye, but for the life of me I couldn’t see what. When I slowly eased up my rifle to look through the scope, three deer jumped up and bounded into the water on the other side. All three were lying in the open not thirty yards away, yet I could not make them out until they moved.
Some of my favorite memories occurred in a thick area of palmetto that covers several hundred acres of my lease. I usually hunted the border of the palmetto because it was too thick to enter without making an ungodly amount of noise.
One particular morning after stalking through the woods for a while, I decided to sit at the base of a tree to watch a small glade surrounded by palmetto.
I had barely gotten comfortable when I saw three does threading through the bushes towards me. When they got almost to me, all three stopped, folded up their legs and bedded down just like cows.
It was impossible to move without spooking them, so I just sat there for the longest time waiting them out. Finely, the does stood up, looked around nonchalantly and walked off through into the palmetto.
There’s still several weeks of hunting season ahead. I wonder what I’ll see tomorrow.
Dr. Terry L. Jones is professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe. For an autographed copy of “Louisiana Pastimes,” a collection of the author’s stories, send $25 to Terry L. Jones, P.O Box 1581, West Monroe, LA 71294.
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