Hunting & Fishing

Hunting & Fishing

            You cannot live in the mountains of Western North Carolina and not love to hunt and fish. You cannot claim to be a country boy, hick or redneck, if you don’t hunt and fish. Well I am not so sure about this generation that is coming up. They are more interested in video games and electronic devises, than hunting and fishing. From the time we were old enough to walk, hunting and fishing was drilled into us.

            My dad loved to hunt and fish. He taught me to carry and shoot a gun at the young age of 4 years old.  I got my first gun when I was 4. It was a 410 shotgun. It was a Christmas present. I was so proud. My dad and uncles with some instruction from my Papaw Jim taught me how to shoot, hold, and carry my shotgun. Plus, how to clean it. Gun safety was the first thing I was taught. Guns were not toys and you had to have respect for the gun and treat them as such. You never pointed your gun at anyone. Always point down toward the ground, unless you about to shot something.

            I got my first fishing pole when I was 2 or 3 years old. Dad would take me over to Massey Branch to the mouth of Snowbird Creek, where it fed into the head of Santeelah lake to fish in the evenings after work. We didn’t come home empty handed very often.  We’d fish from the bank and then sometimes we would go out fishing in this old blue and white john boat dad owned.

               Rainbow Trout caught in  Little Snowbird Creek 1978

    My cousin David Big Snowbird at the Middle Falls 1986

            I must confess here and now. That if the fish weren’t biting I wasn’t fishing. I thought more than once that my dad, uncles, and cousins were going to kill me. I’d drive them crazy. Because I would always bring a book with me when we would go fishing. I’d stop fishing when they weren’t biting and set with my nose in a book. I’d read until either we called it quits or the fish started biting again. I was happy either way. My family not so much. Hehehehe

            The trip I am about to tell you happened when I was 10 or 11 years old. The trip was to drive up to King Meadow and then hike down to meadow branch, near the middle falls on Big Snowbird Wilderness Area.  It was my dad, my uncles Charlie and Ronnie, and my cousins Robbie and David. The adults took it easy on us. David was only 8 years old and Robbie was 12.  The hike was about 4 miles to the camp site.

            We were going to be fishing for speckled trout. Native to the waters that we were going to be fishing. And very good eating.  You’re only allowed to catch 4 per day per person. Not many fish. We caught our limit of 4 fish, plus each day. We’d fry them up with taters and cornbread and have a feast there by the side of the creek. We ate high on the proverbial hawg or fish in this case that week. Then relax and rest and just enjoy the time together.

            In the evenings after we were done fishing for the day. We’d take off to the middle falls and go swimming. It was fun times. Our dads would join us in the frigid waters and we’d climb up on their shoulders and jump off. Or we’d climb to the top of the falls and jump off there. We were careful not to get hurt, it was a long way to get any kind of help if we were to get hurt.

            We cooked a mess of fish and the rest we would put in tin coffee cans. JFG and Folgers coffee cans. And put some flour on the fish and then put them in the coffee cans. Then submerge the coffee cans in the creek until we were ready to eat again, or we had caught more fish.

            On this trip Uncle Ronnie caught the biggest speckle trout that I have ever seen to this day. It was 12 inches long. He was going to have it mounted, it was so big. He put that fish in one of the coffee cans and submerged it in the creek. Deep in the creek. He didn’t want anything to get to it. But something did find it and get into that coffee can. A raccoon muscled that rock that was holding that coffee can down in the water and got the can to the creek bank. Got the lid of the top of the can and ate half the fish that were in the can. My uncle was livid with rage. Luckily, he had taken pictures of the fish to prove that he actually caught it.

     My cousin Robbie and me at our Grandma Ruby's house  1976

            That trip was fun. We had a wonderful time. My uncle Charlie decided to fish up Meadow Branch Creek, the second or third day we were there. My dad and uncle Ronnie thought he was crazy. Told him that it was a waste of time. The creek was to small. But he went anyway. Ronnie and Robbie went one-way fishing. Dad took me and David in the other direction. When we met back up that afternoon. We were relating the events of the day and of the ones that got away. Uncle Charlie finally showed up. Dad and Uncle Ronnie were giving him a hard time until he showed us his fishing pack. Uncle Charlie whooped us all. He caught 81 trout out of that little creek. And he said that it was full of fish. Dad and Ronnie were sore about it. Couldn’t believe that it even had fish.  Uncle Charlie came out on top. Lol

             There are so many different fishing trips I could write about. That it would fill a book. It wasn’t just the fishing that I liked. And I love to fish. It was the fact that I was getting to spend time with my dad and my family. And I loved each and every one of them. I didn’t realize it at the time. But those days were some of the best days of my life.

        My friend Tim and Spike buck  1978

            This really happened. This hunting trip was into the heart of the Slickrock Wilderness Area. We drove to the head of Big Fat Gap. And then hiked down Big Fat Branch trail to our camping spot. Around 4 miles. I was 11 or 12 years old at the time. On this trip we added a few of our cousins from Franklin, NC. Our cousin Jackie, and his son Tim, and Jerry, Jackie’s brother. They came over and camped with us. Fun times.

            It was a 4 days camping trip. It was deer season and we were hunting deer. I learned at a young age that my blood did not start flowing through my body until it was warmed by the sun. Yep just like a lizard. My feet were the hardest things to warm up when I was younger. I don’t why, it just was. My family found me more than once out in the woods supposed to be hunting passed out on a rock letting the sun warm me up. Lol  It’s true.

            There was deer sign everywhere. I got to where I was going to be hunting that day. And the first thing I did was find me a rock to crawl up on. My feet were cold, and hunting was the farthest thing from my mind. I was in this beautiful valley between two ridges. The deer had been tearing up that area. I could see across to the other ridge and up to the top of the one on the side as well. I was in a perfect location. I saw deer, but I didn’t kill any on that trip.

          My dad with a boar hog he killed in Slickrock Wilderness Area  1977

                    My Dad with a 6-point buck 1976

     Dad  and Uncle Ronnie  Santeelah  1985
  

            The first night we were there, I just about froze to death. I slept in my clothes that night. I was miserable the next morning when I got up. My cousin Jerry, who was the chief of police in Highlands NC, told me to take my clothes off and put them in the sleeping bag with me and sleep only in my undies. And I’d stay warm. I took his advice and did that. I slept like a baby the rest of the trip. I can’t remember if anyone in our hunting party killed anything that week or not. I do remember having fun and getting to spend time with the people I most cared about.

             Just like with fishing I could fill a book with stories about hunting. We didn’t always go in groups. Sometimes it was just me and dad. Then others it was me and one of my cousins. I remember this one time. My cousin Robbie had spent the night at my house. We went hunting up on the mountain behind my home. We were squirrel hunting. Yes, we love to eat squirrel. Anyways we were nearly to the top of the mountain. It was steep in places, so we had to be careful or the trip down would be a lot faster than the trip up.

            Well we were almost to the top. Robbie had to stop and take a piss. Well as luck would have it. Just as he finished pissing. My shotgun that he was carrying started to fall. Robbie grabbed for it and when he did he over compensated and lost his balance and down he went. Over and over rolling down the mountain. He caught himself about 50 or 60 feet down the side of the mountain. He was cussing like a sailor.  Lol   It was funny. But I didn’t laugh, because he would beat the crap out of me. Then sent me on the same ride. Lol.

            I don’t remember how many squirrels we killed that day. I just remember have a good time with my cousin. We don’t get to do many of those things today like we did when we were younger. Both of us work. Robbie travels for his work a lot. He is a single dad now. So, we see each other when we can. It is good to remember these past experiences. And enjoy the times we spent and all the fun that we had. It is these experiences that help to shape into the men that we have become.

            I will stop for now. I will write more on this subject at some later time. I started writing this story back in 2014. I was at the VA hospital with my step dad. He was having a procedure there. I was setting in the waiting room with my when I started writing it. I just recently found the notebook that I had penned the story in. I re-read what I had written and added additional things to it.

I hope you enjoy.

Written By: David M. Shuler

                     07MAY2018