A full grown coon can weigh twenty five
to thirty pounds and measure as much as thirty six inches in length from its nose to the end of its tail. Raccoons have long
legs and strong claws, and their hands rival those of a monkey. They have no problem opening a hooked gate or even twisting
a door knob until the door opens.
Raccoons like to dine on frogs, crayfish,
snails, turtles, and other freshwater animals. They also eat all kinds of berries and other fruits. They are especially fond
of corn. They enjoy the water and like to paddle in it. Many coons can whip dogs twice their size—especially in water.
One way they maintain their considerable strength is by climbing trees, which they do when pursued or hunted by coon dogs.
They live in hollow trees whenever possible. The black patch around each eye with the ring of white hair around it gives the
appearance of a burglar’s mask. It truly fits a coon’s mischievous nature.
Many years ago, coonskin caps, sleigh
robes and overcoats were popular. That’s why Dad gave his wholehearted support to Charles and Wayne when they told him
of their plan to trap coons. And not only was there a good market for their pelts, but every year, regular as clockwork, they
would attack the corn field, en masse. They eat corn so greedily they can ruin a whole crop with their visits—before
or after it ripens! It makes them no never mind. For Charles and Wayne to at least thin them out seemed like an excellent
idea.
During the late fall and winter, Charles
would put a dozen or so ears of corn in a pile near a stream and then set steel traps all around. He’d put it close
to the stream because coons like to dip their food in water if they can. They probably aren’t really washing it, as
it would appear, because they don’t seem to care if the water is clear or muddy. They’ll dip anything, even a
frog or a small fish, before they eat it. Now, it wouldn’t seem as though a fish would need to be washed, would it?
Charles was not overly successful. Many
times the coons would figure out a way to snap a couple of the traps—a minor inconvenience. Then they’d walk right
over them to get to the corn. More than once, they’d push the corn onto the other traps and spring them too. It appeared
as though they had done it deliberately. Now, I’ll not say they never caught a coon, but their failure rate was certainly
much higher than their success rate. As you can see, a coon really is smart; it has lots of instinct. Yet, we call them “dumb
animals.”
On rare occasions, Dad would go coon
hunting with some of his “friends from town”, as Mom used to call them. Dad had a lot of trouble walking any appreciable
distance, so he didn’t go often. We never were allowed to go along, but Dad used to tell us about it.
Some of the other fellers, but not all,
would carry a rifle. Most of them had coon dogs. When the dogs had “treed” a coon, you could hear their barking
and baying for miles on a clear night—the kind of sound only a coon dog can make. (Dad told us about an old coon hunter
saying, attributed to “hillbillies,” that went like this: “Ye kin ha-yiv muh wahf er muh mule, but iffin
ye tutch muh hown dawg, yer daid!”) They all felt like it was just about the best sport imaginable, to go coon hunting
on a moonlit night.
Dad said when they shined their long
flashlights with their thin, bright light clear to the top of the tree, they could see the shining eyes of the coon, but they
couldn’t always see the coon itself. After a lot of milling around under the tree, the excitement of the chase would
kind of wear off. Nobody really wanted to shoot the coon very bad, yet that was the only way to get him out of the tree. They’d
excuse themselves by claiming that the rifle hole would ruin the pelt. Dad and his friends never considered hunting coon for
the meat, although roast coon, I’ve since learned is considered a delicacy in the South. The big thing was really the
chase, of course.
And isn’t that the way it is with
a good many other things in life? There’s an old saying, “Anticipation is better than realization.” Ain’t
that the truth.
