Read-aloud uses AI-generated Orakel narrator voices when available. Voice names are Orakel styles, not provider names.
Book: Stories by Mike Doyle Subtitle: An Orakel Family Archive Edition Author: Mike Doyle Story: Coon Huntin' on the River Mode: Author-owned family archive companion. Boundary: Preserve the story's original wording and family-memory context. Do not invent biographical facts. When asked for context beyond the approved story text, say what is known from the archive and what would need family confirmation. Spoiler rule: Stay inside this story unless the reader explicitly asks about the full collection.
Approved story text: The moans, groans and whimpers coming from the tree top were the pitiful mews of a starving kitten. It was truly amazing to hear these heartrending sounds from a man as large as Slim Atwell. But Slim was hurting badly. Slim had talked to my dad earlier that day about going coon hunting and my dad had said, " Let's go!" When he came home he told me to get the lights and the dogs ready to go hunting. I was all for it and set right to work.
The dogs we used for coon hunting were the same dogs we used for bear hunting. The dogs were Ol' Mike, Lily and sometimes Buster. After it was dark we loaded the dogs and drove to Slim's house to pick him up. He was ready and anxious to go and almost jumped into the car. We were going down on the river because coons ( raccoons ) like to be around water if they can. They like to eat frogs and crawdads if they can. They also eat birds and their eggs if they can get them and there are a lot of trees along the river.
Where there are a lot of trees there are a lot of birds. Along a river is a good place to find coons. It was getting late in the fall of the year and so was pretty chilly this particular night. We had our jackets on and our flashlights were in pretty good shape, so we felt fine. Little did we know what was in store for us this night. If we had only known, we would have run back to the car and gone home as fast as that car would travel. But we didn't.
Well we turned the dogs loose and they ran around frantically for a bit as dogs will do when they haven't been out for a week. Soon they settled down and began to hunt in earnest. It wasn't long before Lily began to bark. Lily had a voice to put chills down my spine. She had a long bawl ( this is almost a howl ) and then a short bark. It always sounded wild and exciting when Lily was on the track of a coon. The other dogs had more common barks, but when they were all together it was really something to hear.
What the coons thought about this " mouth music" isn't known. It was probably pretty scary to the coon. Here he was trying to catch a frog and suddenly here was a pack of hounds and 2 men and a boy trying to catch him. Well, no smart coon was going to set and let this group of dogs and people catch up with him that easily. That coon took off as fast as he could. Down the river bank he went as fast as he could run. The dogs were getting closer and we were not far behind. That was no dumb coon.
He jumped into the water and swam across the river. So did the dogs. So did we, only we didn't have to swim. Good thing. That water was very cold, but wasn't very deep. We took off our shoes, socks, pants and underwear. Holding our clothes up out of the water, we started wading across that river. That water was cold! When that cold water started getting close to my buns I started trying to walk taller. It didn't do any good to walk on tiptoe. When that cold water reached my warm buns, I squeaked like a little girl.
My goodness, it was cold water and a lot of the fun had gone out of the coon hunt. At least for me it had. My dad and Slim couldn't talk because their teeth were chattering together so much. So I didn't know how they felt about the fun we were having. Just as we finished putting our clothes back on, we heard a sound that put fear in our hearts. That stinking coon had crossed that frigid river again! So had the dogs. So must we. We pulled our pants off again and looked at that rotten, cold as ice water.
It doesn't seem possible that it was worse the second trip across, but it was. I have always said I walked at least a foot above the bottom of the river going back across. Maybe my buns just tried to move up my back. They sure were clinching up. Then I hear my dad ask Slim, " Are you having fun, yet? " Slim just tried to stop his teeth and knees from chattering and refused to answer. The dogs had treed that rotten coon and we were not long in coming to the tree. Moving fast helped to warm us.
Using our lights we had spotted that coon's eyes. Slim was to climb the tree, I was to hold the dogs ( I always held the dogs ) and my dad kept his light on the coon. He kept the light on him to be sure the coon didn't jump from that tree and go to another. But that coon stayed there. Maybe 2 trips across that river had taken a little energy out of him, too. Slim started to shinny up a tree that had its first limb about 30 feet off of the ground.
Just before Slim got to that first limb he started to squirm a little. Soon these horrible sounds started. He squalled some and my dad asked him what was wrong. Slim hollered, " These little ants are eating me alive!" It seems there were small ants in that tree and they had began to get in Slim's pants and bite him. Slim couldn't go up and was having a tough time coming down. It wasn't long before Slim was just moaning, groaning a little and finally just mewed like a baby kitten.
He just slid down out of that tree and skinned his belly and hands up a little. My dad and I were laughing so hard we were beginning to get stitches in our sides. I had to let the dogs loose to hold my sides and my dad dropped his flashlight he was laughing so hard. The coon took advantage of our laughter to make good his escape. He jumped from the tree and made for the river with the dogs close behind. The coon jumped into the river and we began to call the dogs.
Slim was in no condition to wade that river again and me and my dad weren't going to cross again either. We got the dogs and went to the car. When we got to Slim's house he got out a little stiffly. My dad and I were still giggling a little and Slim said he would tell us when he got well enough to go hunting again. I guess he's still not well, because Slim never called to go coon hunting with us again. It must have been too much fun for him that night on the river.