DUCK HUNTING WITH MY BROTHER!
Growing up in Carthage, TN in the 40's and 50's meant that hunting was one of the things you did. I had been initially introduced to hunting and fishing by my father, Huber Butler.
Hunting with my father was safe, serene and usually productive. But the trips were rare because he was a barber, and the business was booming until the late sixties when 'Beatle Cuts' became popular. Dad went on one bear hunt, a few "possum" hunts (for what reason no one ever knew!) but mostly fishing was dad's number two avocation: Checkers was his first!
Hunting with my brother, Bud, was decidedly different, and once or twice was enough! I was about 12 when Bud decided to do me the favor of teaching me all the fine points of Duck Hunting in Tanglewood Bottom west of Carthage. The temperature had been well below freezing for some days and was near freezing when we sallied forth. The mud in Tanglewood Bottom was wet, sticky, and frozen in many places. It was hard going, but I was determined to keep up the pace. Bud and I hunkered down in a clump of trees after a long cold walk.
We eased over a rise in the rutted corn field and heard some duck-like commotion in a low spot with about four inches of semi-frozen water. What we had heard turned out to be three or four wood ducks. We could barely make out their squawking and splashing. We needed to get closer. We began slipping closer, crouching and sliding in the cold mud when all at once the they all took off flying in every direction.
Within that flight of ducks there was one very unlucky duck! Bud hit it. The duck fell about thirty yards out in the flooded field. We had no dog to retrieve the wounded fowl, and we had no hip-boots. What we had was a twelve year old "volunteer " who had no idea how cold the mud and water was! I should have thought of the temperature because there was a thin, clear sheet of ice on the first few feet of water, but it was thin ice! Following instructions from my elder brother who was sworn to provide good and wholesome instruction at every opportunity, I removed my shoes and socks and proceeded to retrieve the wounded duck.
The almost knee-deep water was unbelievably cold so I hurried! HOWEVER the flooded field was full of short sharp stalks of mowed weeds, and it was too slick to get traction. Pretty soon I was unable to feel my feet anyway. So I just slipped my way out to retrieve the hapless foul. The duck saw me coming and resolved herself to be uncooperative by flopping toward the center of the field.
We had failed to notice the bunch of pigs that had made their way into the fringes of the flooded field and were following our efforts with much interest. In the midst of my foray with the quacking, struggling duck in hand at-last, we discovered that the pigs had made off with my shoes and socks and muddied up my gun trying to root it up!
Well, there was nothing else to do but to give chase and get my shoes back. I chased the grunting swine through the weeds and briars, but it was almost as muddy as the flooded section. I could not raise my feet high enough to keep the dead weed stalks, briars and seeds from eating the flesh from the tops of my feet and from between my toes. Perhaps I would not have run so hard had I had feeling in my feet!
It probably was a sight seeing me in hot pursuit of one or the other pig with my brogan in his mouth. Bud did help get my shoes back, and he would have been more help had he not been laughing so hard.
I finally retrieved both brogans by wrestling a couple of porkers to the ground . Evidently my socks had comprised a tasty pig-treat. By the time we made the walk back to the car I was shaking uncontrollably. The car heater gave relief to the rest of my body, but my feet felt the sting of the receding cold. The pain of the cuts and scrapes from the briars and brambles came much later. I eventually located the gun and it cleaned up pretty well.
That was my last duck hunt. My mom was none too happy with my condition, but she figured these experiences were just another little lesson in my life. I never cared for duck anyway.
