Chapter 19 The Hunting Trip
“Mornin Jean.”
Ethan and Joshua called up to Jean who was as usual seated on his favorite chair on his porch, pipe in hand with a cloud of dark blue smoke swirling in whisps, shrouding his shoulders and head.
Jean raised his pipe.
“Bonjour, coment allez vous?”
“We is just fine Jean.”
The boys replied in unison as they climbed the steps onto the porch.
“What is we huntin for today.”
Ethan enquired, as Joshua jumped up backwards and sat on the wooden railing that ran around the edge of the porch.
Jean shrugged his shoulders,
“Tout ce qui vous desirez.”
“Deer.”
Joshua shouted excitedly.
“Nuh…, Auh wanna gets us a big fine gator then do some fishin, o’duck huntin”
Ethan said with enthusiasm. Both the boys had learned to understand the French language spoken by most of the older adults in Malase, even though they would not speak it themselves and they also understood the Cajun dialect in equal amounts as the French and would speak it sometimes but there own language was a mixture of Cajun phrases and white trash redneck slang and the misuse of the American language. It had a certain charm within the bounds of their parish but if spoken in any of the larger towns or cities of the state would make them sound like real backward back woods hicks.
As Samuel walked towards the steps up to Jean’s porch Ethan and Joshua started to check the guns. The boys by now were both expert in stripping down, cleaning and reassembling almost any rifle or shotgun, and were in the process of stripping down a rifle each. Today Jean had picked two rifles and two shotguns, a small crossbow, four telescopic fishing rods, a box of bait, some lures and an assortment of 12 gauge shotgun cartridges. He was in the process of filling the second sash belt with rifle ammunition as Samuel stepped up onto the porch
“Ah Bonjour Mon ami.”
Jean said as he leaped up and grasped Samuels hand and shook it firmly.
“Yuh know Ethan an Joshua?”
He asked gesturing towards the two boys who were in the process of checking each part that they disassembled for cleanliness.
“Yes, they are Billy-Bobs boys, aren’t they?”
Samuel replied as he took a seat next to Jean.
“Ah Oui, an they are good hunters as well, c’est tres bien……., so I thought seein as we’ll be shootin or catchin so much today it would be a good thing too have two strong young huntin men along with us to help us haul it all back. “
With that Jean winked at Samuel and gave him a knowing smile.
While the boys busied themselves reassembling the two rifles once cleaned and oiled and checking the rest of their hunting gear for the day Jean offered Samuel his tobacco pouch. Samuel was now used to smoking Jeans pipe tobacco, he took the pouch with a smile and sat back and rolled himself a cigarette, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his lighter and lit his super strength roll up. He blew the dark flavorsome smoke out in a long plume and relaxed a little more.
“Jean we is ready.”
Came a voice from the side of the shack, Ethan and Joshua had loaded Jeans’ pickup with the guns consisting of two rifles and six shotguns, the crossbow and twenty bolts, enough ammunition to start a small war, six duck lures, four fishing rods, some brightly colored fish lures, a box of fish bait, two machete’s and a box containing meat for trap bait. They had also thrown in a camouflaged net and two pairs of waders.
They were impatient to be off but had to wait while Jean and Samuel finished smoking. Before Jean and Samuel left the comfort of the porch Therese appeared with a wicker basket packed with bread, cheese, blackened and dried smoked fish, an intertwined fist of smoked Boudin, a large sealed container of Court Bouillon and paper bag of rice.
Samuel took it from her and jokingly sagged under its weight,
“Are you feeding an army today?”
He enquired with a smile.
“Je suis gate’, pourri.”
Jean said with a smile slapping his full round belly, he stood up then reached down to his side and picked up a large cool box filled with ice and beers. Therese laughed and gave his ample buttock a pinch as he walked past,
“Là des aucuns skinny mullet’s dans ma maison.”
She said with a laugh,
”à bientôt Jean, Samuel, bonne chasse.”
She continued chuckling to herself as she walked back into her home.
Samuel followed Jean down the steps, round to where the pickup was parked and the two boys were waiting impatiently and loaded their provisions into the back.
“All loaded?”
Jean asked of the boys.
“Sure is.”
Came a double reply.
“Maintenant nous allons.”
Jean replied and with that they all climbed aboard, Jean turned the engine over; its V8 power rocking the body on its springs before he put it into drive and off they went.
They drove north out of Malase for about a quarter of a mile before they came upon a dark green, slightly battered pickup parked by the creek waiting for them.
On board was Achile Bergeron, Papite Vallier with his two sons Henri and Hector
“Aah Salut.”
Came a shout of welcome as they pulled up along side them and parked.
Down in the creek were Jean Jnr, Juste and Theo Leblanc were loading all of their hunting gear into a hunting boat, a large wooden boat with a shallow draft and a large outboard motor on the back. Attached to the rear by rope, neatly in line were three pirogues.
The Piroque, The word being derived from the Spanish, piragua, is a canoe-like water craft originally used by the ‘Cajuns’ in the swamps of Louisiana to get into extremely shallow water and would certainly be used at some time or other during their hunt that day. Early French settlers adopted the Carib Indian method of getting around in the shallow marshes and swamps. The pirogue, pronounced pee’ rogue is typically built from the Cypress trees which these three beautiful examples where. The modern version was a cheap quarter inch plywood imitation that cost between $300 and $600 dollars. As was the tradition the men of Malase knew exactly how to build these boats with skill and craftsmanship and these were beautiful examples, sixteen feet in length, long and pointed at both ends. Their bottoms being concave and featured flared sides with the fore half being slightly wider than the aft, to many they look like an elongated teardrop. The draft is only about four inches and many ‘Cajuns’ will say, ‘A pirogue can float on a heavy dew!’ Apart from the ability to move with ease through the shallows, the small, flat-bottomed pirogues are light enough to be carried over land as and when needed. These small hand made craft can weigh as little as forty pounds and can be maneuvered either by the use of short bladed single paddles or a long “push pole” for use in the shallows.
Jean turned off his engine,
“Une minute.”
He said before climbing out of his pickup and making his way down to talk to his boys. Dark blue curling wisps of smoke from his pipe followed him down to the edge of the creek and as he stood talking the blue haze enshrouded Jean and his boys. In a moment he was back and jumped up into the pickup
“C’est bon.”
He said before starting the engine and driving off, the green pickup pulled away from the creek after them and followed them as they drove deeper into the gloom.
“Nous rendezvous a Capchonrouge wid Jnr, Juste and Theo dans une heure.”
He said with a smiling nod to Samuel.
Capchonrouge was the only other piece of land for miles around which like Lokchapi stood above the surrounding basin of the swamp.Capchonrouge was a sandstone outcrop like the outcrop of rock that Lokchapi village was grouped around, although a darker shade of stone, almost terracotta.
It was shaped like the old Capuchon, a cone shaped ceremonial hat worn during the Courir de Mardis Gras celebrations that are held in these parts of Louisiana on the final day before lent. Celebrants at this festival eat and drink heavily and the capuchin worn on their heads and the costumes that they dress up in are ostensively to hide their identities.
Capchonrouge was an ideal place to meet with the boys in the hunting boat. It was some five miles to the northwest at the northern end of Lake Cavelier and was as far as they hunters could get by vehicle even at this, the driest time of year. The track that took them there went deep into the depths of the swamp before following the lake shore for half a mile, then meandering off east for a couple of miles before turning north west again, then after a few more bends and twists finally due west. It was a track known by very few, and a track that was submerged for over half of the year, even with the water within the swamp and surrounding wetlands at their lowest r the vehicles still needed to drive through some eight inches of water for several hundred yards at a time in places. To know where to go when you were suddenly confronted with long stretches of dark water and stay safe was knowledge that had been passed down through the generations from father to son. Jean told Samuel that from Capchonrouge it was possible to go north another three to four miles in a vehicle and if he had a couple of ox and a good substantial cart he could navigate his way right around Lake Cavelier. A feat that seemed impossible to Samuel.
It was only five miles to Capchonrouge as the crow flies but the two pickups must have covered nearly ten slow, bumpy, winding miles before the overhead canopy of Cypress thinned and they emerged into the dazzling daylight at the northern shore of Lake Cavelier.
Capchonrouge was certainly a strange site, rearing up from the muddy, dark waters at the margin or boundary between the lake and the Cypress swamp. It stood there planted in the alluvial deposits, solid and seemingly immovable, towering some thirty five feet above them. It was a dark red with lighter stripes of orange and yellow near to its tip. At its base the sandstone broadened out with what appeared to be a natural stone jetty projecting out in to the lapping waters of the lake. It was here that Jean Jnr, Juste and Theo sat with their boats tied up alongside them bobbing gently in the water.
“Là où ayez-vous été.”
Jean Jnr. shouted as he jumped to his feet.
Jean laughed and Samuel looked at Jean quizzically.
”Aah.., les garcon want tuh know where have we been, they bin waitin pour nous… for us.”
Jean said with a smile, puffing a long blue plume of aromatic smoke out of his window.
“On yva.”
He said with a slap of the steering wheel.
The two boys, Ethan and Joshua jumped into immediate action; they were out of the pickup like a shot and unloading all of their hunting equipment, laying it neatly besides Jeans pickup. They had sat on the back bench seat in almost silence as they had been driven through the dark vale of the swamp. They sat looking out of the windows while Jean and Samuel chatted, their minds wrapped up in the day of hunting ahead of them. Now they had something to do they wanted to show the men that young as they were they knew what they were doing.
In no time at all, all of the hunters were ready, Jean had planned out a diverse day of hunting, and they would start by doing some duck hunting, then later go and check some gators lines that he had baited the night before.
After that they would go on a general edge of swamp hunt for frogs, turtles, raccoons or muskrats, the flying squirrel that glides from tree to tree in the lofty heights of the Cypressor the common opossum.
He had then planned a stop for eating on drier, slightly higher ground at the edge of the forest where the Cypress and Tupelo had given way to the closed-canopy of oak, ash, sweet gum, elm, and maple.
Once fed they would have a late afternoon of hunting for white tailed deer or rabbit in the dappled shade at this boundary between forest and the open grass and semi wet scrub lands that stretched to the north and east.
At dusk before returning to their pickups that were to be left at Capchonrouge they would spend a couple of hours in the overgrown open grass and scrub lands and hope to get themselves some woodcock or if they were lucky a couple of large Wild Turkey.
At the days end a relaxing hour or two fishing from the natural stone jetty at the base of Capchonrouge for channel catfish, blue gill,shad, white bass, largemouth bass, redear sunfish (chinquapin) and black crappie (sacalait) would be a great way to end the hunt. Jean hoped that with such a range of hunting and fishing Samuel would experience catching, shooting or trapping at least a couple of different species and it would be a great experience for him. The last couple of times that Samuel had accompanied Jean and Papite out hunting was a couple of years ago and these had been more work like hunts with Samuel tagging along, whereas Jean wanted to showcase their hunting skills and let Samuel experience the true wealth of the swamplands for himself. He wanted to bring Samuel out of the depths of his mind and this was his way of helping. As Jean would often say to anyone that cared to ask and with a broad sweep of his hand over the surrounding swamplands.
“Ce que plus pourraient un homme vouloir, c’est la vie… nature at its finest, man an beast……homme et bête…..un duel à la mort.”
Jean was proud of the swamplands, his heritage, his knowledge of nature and his hunting skills that were equaled by the skills of Papite and Achile and to a lesser extent their sons. There was not an animal that lived in the surrounding country that they could not snare, trap, catch, shoot or net and then expertly butcher, ready for either salting, smoking or cooking.
With the early morning mists just starting to rise and clear away from the edge of the lake under the ever increasing heat of the rising sun the hunting party reached their first destination of the day. They had loaded up the large hunting boat that easily accommodated all nine men and their equipment and with the three piroques tied up in single file astern. Achile had expertly piloted them through the billowing mists along the edge of the lake for about a mile. As Achile pulled alongside the duck blind, first Theo standing on the bow then Nathan at the stern threw securing ropes over dark wooden posts that protruded about three feet above the lapping waters of the lake. They both pulled on the ropes bringing the boat and its cargo of hunters tight against the wooden steps that led up into the blind.
The blind was thirty feet long, five feet wide and its bottom was about a foot and a half above the surface of the water at this time of year. In the wet season its bottom would be only a couple of inches, if that above the surface of the water and the wooden steps were not needed as the hunters could step straight from their boat into the blind. It was constructed from a mixture of wooden Tupelo and Cypress post, being highly resistant to the effects of water, they lasted for a long time. The posts had been driven into the dark sediments at the edge of the lake, with the floor constructed again of Tupelo and Cypress planks laid on large cross joists. The sides and ends of the blind where constructed of wooden poles made from tree saplings with uprights every six feet and a rail at about four feet and clad with ‘Cypress knees’ which are pneumatophores, spongy wooden structures which extend above the water from down below the waterline at the root system of the mighty Cypress tree. The ‘Cypress knees’ were all cut to about six feet in length and secured to the sides with twine, this formed a picket fence like effect that was interwoven with Southern Cutgrass and Cattails then slung with drapes of Spanish moss. For cover overhead eight seven foot long poles with a’ y’ shape at one end were used to hoist up and hold in place a dense camouflage net.
The blind was orientated facing southwest on one side and north east on the other with one end pointing towards the grasses at the margin between lake and the darkness of the Cypress swamp and the other end pointing out towards the middle of the lake. This meant that hunters shooting from both sides could shoot out into the lake or back towards the lake margins and the security of the swaying banks of Southern Cutgars sand Cattails. There were five shooting stations placed alternately along each side, spaced about five feet apart and each had a bench to sit on, a small basic table or shelf to one side with a rough wooden gun rack to the front right. Directly to the front was a three foot wide by two foot high opening that gave each hunter a clear one hundred and eighty degree panorama in front of them.
Samuel had not noticed the blind until they were almost on top of it, its camouflage was excellent and as they had approached with the sun rising behind them it had almost materialized out of the mists before his eyes. Its outline and color was indistinguishable from the background of the lake margin and dark, moss laden Cypress’s behind it and it appeared to him only a mater of thirty seconds before Achile had slowed the outboard engine and pulled up alongside.
While the majority of the hunting party boarded the blind with their guns, ammunition and food, then selected for themselves a shooting station, Jean Jnr, Juste and Theo loaded each Piroque with an assortment of duck and goose decoys. They paddled out in an arc of some 50 yards on each side of the blind placing the rester and sleeper decoys to attract the curiosity of any overflying waterfowl. The spread of decoys reflected the natural tendencies of their prey when gathering together and influenced the birds to finish their approach to land in particular spots that helped each hunter make good clean shots. There were some twenty six decoys per side, spread in two groups of thirteen with a central clear zone, or pocket to encourage the incoming birds to aim for the clear water to land in. They had laid out both sides of the blind in equal spreads because on that morning the skies were still and the prevailing winds from the south west were absent. This meant that the ducks that they were all pursuing could come in from any direction.
A few of the decoys on each side had fishing line attached, one end of this line attached to each decoy would be brought back to the blind and passed up to whoever was at a selected firing station. During the course of the hunt these lines would be tugged or waggled every now and again to make the decoy at the other end move about and send out ripples across the water. This all added to the reality of the fake flock of assorted ducks or geese and would help entice their breathing cousins to join them. Once Jean Jnr. and his two brothers had accomplished their task they tied up their Piroques onto the back of the large hunting boat and took up positions at their firing stations in the blind.
It took some five more minutes for everyone to settle, twelve gauge cartridges were clicked home into their magazines, guns checked one final time and then silence descended on the men. Papite took out his hand made single reed Cedar wood duck caller and broadcast a series of low grunt like quacks, these were followed after a short time by a couple of high pitched whistling quirks and quacks that emanated from Juste’s firing station. All was silent again as the men waited, scanning the skies looking for those distant dark flecks that would grow and become the silhouettes of any number of possible water fowl.
Jean cupped his right hand around his mouth and then with a short intake of breath fired two deep ‘waak’ , noises out across the water. To Samuels’s ears these two ‘waaks’ seemed to be coming from the middle of their spread of decoys rather than his friends’ mouth, then again two more ‘waaks’ then silence. In the background all that could be heard was a gentle symphony of ‘chiirs’, ‘croaks’, ’trills’, ‘clitters’ and ‘ribbits’ interspersed with the occasional ‘skraa, skraa’ that came from the darkness of the swamp. All manner of insects, reptiles, mammals and birds exclaimed the start of a new day before falling silent as the growing heat of the morning sun drove them into the damp shade and out of the way of hungry eyes. The orchestra would re-commence their performance as the sun dipped behind lofty heights of the shrouded Cypress swamp, casting its long evening shadows our across the lake margins and the fiery red waters but that was a whole day away and by then this group of hunters would be long gone from the blind.
As Samuel patiently waited, in his mind he went through the instructions Jean had given him. ‘The first birds to respond to the decoys and calls would circle around and dip and twist in the air, side slipping to loose the maximum altitude in the shortest time and land on the waters of the lake. There would be one or two to start with and these should be left to land on the water in amongst the decoys. After some time or in no time at all it all depended on the day more water fowl would be drawn in, always on the look out for good feeding they would notice this growing flock on the water and descend to join them’.
It was all about timing he had been told, it would be ideal if they had about fifteen to twenty birds on the water with a flock of a similar number descending to join them to initiate the shoot. The descending flock needed to be coming in over the furthest decoys, set out at about 50 yards, being in range this would allow the hunters to target the incoming flock, then pick off the panicking water bound flock as they struggled to get airborne, shooting up from the waters of the lake like a feathered roman candle, birds darting upwards at crazy angles, flaring off in every direction’.
Jean had also made it clear to Samuel that they would not take a ‘sitting duck’ they were all good enough shots to take the birds in the air
There would be no signal it would be up to the judgment of the individual hunter to fire first, then all the others would join in.
After about fifteen minutes the first couple of birds came into sight and down they came onto the decoys twisting and turning in the air just as Jean had described. Samuel did not know exactly what kind of bird they were, he knew enough to know that they were not herons, pelican or birds of prey, they were obviously what they were all waiting for because he saw a large grin spread across Jean face. Another couple of minutes and they were joined by half a dozen more, and a wait of another couple of minutes and still more descended down onto the lake. Jean had made it clear that at this point it was all a game of nerves, this is because the flock gathering on the water could quite easily be spooked and flare off, yes some would be shot but not as many as it was possible for them to shoot if they timed it right and ambushed an incoming flight just before landing. From the opposite side of the blind Achile whispered.
“Vingt-deux nous somme prêt.”
Jean looked over at Samuel and silently raised his thumb. The tension in the blind rose, as eager eyes scanned the skies and fingers edged fully onto triggers ready for the first squeeze. Samuel glance momentarily to his front right to check the location of his spare gun, Jean had said in case of a stoppage or running out of ammunition and still having more birds to shoot at, they always had a fully loaded spare within hands reach. Samuel currently had pressed against his shoulder a ‘Remington 11-87’ semi automatic shotgun that allowed seven cartridges to be loaded with one chambered ready to fire and to his front right sat a ‘Winchester 12’ pump action shotgun that had en extended magazine that allowed seven cartridges to be loaded with one chambered ready to fire, again giving the hunter a total of eight shots before reloading. That meant he had a total of sixteen shots before he would have to reload. He chuckled to himself at the thought, he would be lucky to get off five or six shots successfully let alone sixteen, but as Jean told him.
“Un bon chasseur est toujours prêt……..a good hunter is always prepared.”
Samuel had been patiently watching a flock of ten or more birds high up and off to his right change course and circle back on themselves, then perform a lager circle in the sky, all the time getting larger which meant closer. As they descended and came out of their neatly performed dips and twists they seemed to gather in a formation for the final approach.
The first boom echoed across the water and reflected back from the tree line shattering the quiet stillness of the moment. This was followed in close succession by two more booms before being joined by a cacophony of different booms, bangs and echoes that erupted from the blind. Samuel was the first to fire and by the time the last shot echoed out across the water through the cordite heavy air, he had fired twelve of his sixteen shots and killed seven birds.
Before Jean congratulated Samuel with real wide eyed surprise and a couple of friendly slaps on the back Jean Jnr, Juste and Theo had abandoned the blind and with a deft skill and mastery of their craft were out in their Piroque’s retrieving their quarry. Twenty seven birds were retrieved from the water, all cleanly shot, killed instantly, which is what all the hunters wished for. As men brought up to hunt and survive in these swamplands none of them liked to see an animal suffer and would dispatch whatever animal they hunted with an efficient, quick and hopefully painless death. They had a deep seated appreciation and respect for the natural world and the animals that lived alongside them and treated their quarry with honor and dignity once dead.
After the excitement of the duck hunting, Jean piloted the boat with all of the hunters onboard along the lake shore to where they found two of the seven baited hooks that Jean had set the previous night had caught the intended prey. The first hook had an adult male alligator of some eleven feet in length and about four hundred and seventy pounds in weight and the second hook had a smaller juvenile female alligator of about five feet in length and less than two hundred pounds. Both were dispatched cleanly by a rifle shot between the eyes and pulled on board, before leaving Jean re-baited the two hooks.
After that success the hunting party spread themselves equally between the three piroques and went hunting for frogs, map turtles and any other inhabitant of the swamp fringes, where the water shallowed and gave way to moist wetlands and tall grasses. Here they caught over forty frogs in under an hour, Samuel was amazed by the dexterity of the hunters who glided alongside the frogs in the shallows and caught them by hand. As well as the frogs, two largealligator snapping turtles, five common snapping turtles and a haul of crabs and crawfish were all caught.
Some of the turtles were caught by line and hook baited with chicken, the lines being thrown over the sides of the Piroques, but two were caught by the Leblanc boys who waded along the lake margins using poles to dislodge the resting turtles from dark holes or submerged vegetation. Once dislodged a cry went up and both brothers congregated around their prey and man handled it out of the water where it was swiftly dispatched. Samuel thought this was quite a spectacle to watch as the boys briefly wrestled with their submerged prey in an explosion of thrashing and splashing which culminated with them producing two of the largest turtles he had ever seen in his life.
They then tied up the three Piroques’ and moved away from the water onto the slightly higher but still water logged wetlands where they shot seven muskrat, five raccoons and eleven squirrels.
By now the heat of the day was reaching its peak and all of the men were starting to feel slight gnawings of hunger in their bellies, it was very hot, extremely humid and they were all tiring and getting thirsty. They returned to where they had tied up the three Piroques climbed aboard and paddled back to the deeper water where their main hunting boat was tied up to a majestic Cypress. They carefully transferred themselves and their assorted bounty, their guns, lines, and poles into the much larger and sturdier main hunting vessel and tied the three Pirogues in line behind. With a gentle rev of the outboard motor they pulled away from the shallows and followed the lake swamp boundary for a couple of miles before Achile skillfully piloted them into the shrouded darkness of the swamp once again.
Away from the bright sunlight of the lake the temperature dropped noticeably but the humiditry stayed the same, it took a minute or two for Samuels’s eyes to adjust to the gloom as they motored deeper away from the light and heat. With consummate ease Achile steered the party around and between the flooded buttresses flutes and ‘knee’ root systems of the towering Cypress and the slightly smaller Tupelo trees. He seemed to know where their ‘knees’ were, either slightly submerged or only just breaking the water’s surface and avoid them with a slight movement of his wrist to move the outboards motor slightly this way or that. After about five minutes of slowly moving amongst these towering giants, the motor slowed and they pulled alongside aCypressthat had met its end and was lying on its side half submerged in the dark waters.
They tide up alongside and clambered up a set of steps that had been carved into the fallen giants’ trunk. They unloaded the food they had brought along as well as a couple of freshly killed squirrels and a canvas bag full of frogs. The trunk was as wide as a sidewalk and someone had fashioned wooden posts every five yards or so on the left side with a rope attached, running along at waist height acting as a hemp guide rail, The party moved along this highway with ease, left hand on the rope with the right had clutching a basket of food, rifle or cooking pan.
To Samuel’s complete surprise at the far end of the trunk which must have been between thirty and forty yards in length stood a wooden shack which was built squarely alongside the trunk of the fallen Cypress. Its rear was on stilts that sank down into the almost black mirror like water and the front was built onto dry land. The hunting party entered through a doorway that led from their Cypress gangway, through a small room and out another doorway on the opposite side across a large wooden porch and down a set of steps onto solid earth. As the men went about their preparations to eat, each knowing what they had to do Jean gestured for Samuel to sit besides him on a long wooden bench at the base of the steps.
“Juste comme ma maison.”
He said with a huge grin holding out his pipe tobacco for Samuel to take. Jean went on to explain as they watched the others prepare a fire, open baskets and lay out food on a wooden table, skin the squirrels, and prepare the frogs legs for cooking that they had eight similar hunting lodges spread across the surrounding country.
They were places that they could rest, dry out, eat or sleep and each was fitted out with some rudimentary comforts and some essentials. In the darkness of the cabin as in the rest of them were six bunks, two on each side, three high and six bed roles, a table and six chairs, a stove, matches, gasoline, gun cleaning cloths and oils, spare fishing lines and hooks and a couple of hurricane lanterns and oil.
Samuel felt really relaxed, he had really enjoyed the mornings hunting and chatted happily away with Jean as the men went about their meal preparations. Jean asked about Samuel’s present state of mind and Samuel openly explained that he thought that his latest slide into darkness had been triggered by the stress of opposing the alligator farm zoning application.
“I know how to research analyze, and write…. Who to put across my points clearly and concisely and to a certain extent it energizes me, gives my mind a well needed work out and I enjoy it…….But the down side of it is that the stress just simply blows my mind for some unknown reason”
Samuel said as he rolled himself another cigarette and accepted a bottle of beer that was handed to him by Juste. Jean sat silent for a moment and shook his head from side to side.
“Auh knows Billy-Bob an Mary-Jo really well and you mon ami are a good friend so its not my part to get involved……They just do what they ave to do an so do you……comme ci comme ça………But it is a big strain to take on your shoulders mon ami….., non?.”
“I just get on with it and I wouldn’t want you or anyone in Malase to get involved…. They have every right to apply for their zoning certificate and I have every right to oppose it…Anyway its been refused so my hard work was worth it.”
Samuel said matter of factly.
“True.. true and you are your own man Samuel…intelligent I know and I can see that you walk your own course through life, independent, strong willed, but this darkness…, merde!”
“The funniest thing Jean is that it is out of these dark, lonely, despairing episodes that the strangest and most creative thoughts, ideas and conclusions seem to emerge…. From somewhere deep and dark inside, down in the depths of my mind they come pouring out in an explosion of energy and insight and that is an extraordinary feeling.”
“All I can say mon ami is that you just do what you have to do…..and I applaud you for that…, but your darkness worries me.”
“That’s very kind of you Jean but I’ve been like this over thirty years now I and am used to it, it’s SJ and Jason that feel the brunt of my erratic behaviors and moods and I hate that………….”
Samuel’s voice trailed off and he took a swig on his beer. Jean looked down at his feet for a few moments and was just about to mention something to Samuel but stopped himself. He was going to tell Samuel that he had heard that Billy-Bob and Mary-Jo were going to apply again that they were going to get professional help this time, but seeing Samuel’s relaxed demeanor and contented smile on his face thought better of it
‘He’ll find out in due course so it’s better to leave him to enjoy his day’, Jean thought to himself
“C’mon mon ami lets eat.”
Jeans said with a gentle slap on Samuel’s knee as he rose to join the others.
Good thinking Jean I’m starving
Samuel replied as the stood up and followed Jean to where the feast had been laid out for all.
The break to eat was a loud affair with much laughter and wisecracking and the preparation and eating of the food was not rushed and to Samuel’s eyes seemed to be taken very seriously, the squirrel and frogs legs once prepared and seasoned were fried and they were delicious. To accompany this freshly fried meal were cold smoked meats, sausage, dried fish, cheeses; home baked crusty bread and more bottles of beer. Samuel thought that it was a magnificent meal of exquisitely tasting and well prepared food and was a great surprise. Everyone shared the food that they had brought out amongst the whole hunting party. They comment on it, savored it and discussed various ways of preparing and seasoning differing foods to get the exact taste wanted.
One the meal was completed and everything and been cleaned and stored away they prepared themselves for the afternoon hunt. With rifles and shotguns at the ready and Jean jnr nursing a fearsome looking crossbow they made their way north away from the flooded swamp and with every step the ground under foot seemed to become drier and less squelchy. As they moved the overhead canopy transformed from the towering darkness of the shrouded Cypress and Tupelo to a closed-canopy of oak, ash, sweet gum, elm, and maple. They continued moving with stealth, eyes scanning for the slightest movement ears alert for the quietest noise. During the hour it took to move through this beautiful country Papite shot a majestic male White Tailed Deer, and four more squirrels, seven rabbits and a woodcock all met their end at the hands of the skilled hunters. Samuel was pleased with himself as his contribution was a rabbit, a squirrel and the Woodcock.
In another hour they were upon the boundary between forest and the open grass and semi wet scrub lands that stretched to the north and east. In the distance they heard a high pitched screaming, ”’yaaarll, yaaarll.’ echo behind them somewhere back in the forest, they all stopped in their tracks, Achile, Papite and Jean knew exactly what had made the sound, the younger men suspected and their faces drained to a shade of grey as they all stood rooted to the spot,
“Cougar.”
Juste whispered in a loud stage whisper. Smiles creased across the faces of Achile, Papite and Jean. Achile let off two rounds from his rifle up into the thinning canopy in quick succession.
“Yaaarl, Yaaarl.”
Came the immediate response, Jean was the first to break and let out an enormous laugh as he clapped Papite on the back, the two others were not far behind Jean, holding their sides with their shoulders heaving up and down as the laughter rang out through the trees. Papite had tears streaming down his cheeks while Achile gasped for breath as each uncontrollable spasm of delight coursed through his body and escaped through his mouth in the loudest and deepest laugh Samuel had ever heard. The rest of the hunting party looked on in astonishment as the three men tried to calm themselves with not much success. Slowly the laughter subsided and the three elders of the hunting party tried to regain some composure.
Juste shouted out rather indignantly.
“ Papa pourquoi le rire …. Why youze all lauffin?”
“Pour une autre heure mon fils………. Another time.”
Jean replied with a chuckle and a wink to a slightly confused Samuel. Silence hung over the men for a coupe of moments before Achile said.
“Sur avec la chasse.”
And motioned with his rifle for the group to move off, they continued on moving silently once more, senses alert for the slightest indication that their prey was moving close by.
Here in the dappled shade another deer was brought down by a singularly brilliant shot from Joshua, who using his father’s 1892 lever action’ Winchester carbine’ had fired its .44 Rem bullet through some on hundred and ten yards of close covered forest and undergrowth to pierce the stag cleanly between the eyes. This rifle had a well used and polished Walnut stock, an open sight and the walnut stock had been notched with every kill it had made, and Joshua could now add his own. This magnificent stag weighed it at approximately two hundred and ninety pounds and had a full set of branching antlers that were as round as a mans wrist where they joined the skull. Ethan, Joshua and Juste stayed behind to skin and butcher the animal while the party continued out into the glare and heat of the late afternoon across the overgrown open grass and scrub lands that surrounded the forest. Again they had more successes here shooting five more Woodcock, three wild turkeys and a pair of ring-necked ducks that were overflying.
As the afternoon heat started to wane and the first mauves of dusk were visible in the sky to the west the party made their way back to pick up the three boys and the butchered stag, before all making their way to their disembarking point at the hunting lodge and Cypress tree quay. They loaded the hunting boat, climbed aboard and with Papite at the helm made their way back through the swamp in silence with only the low murmur of the outboard engine breaking the stillness of the early evening. Once they broke from the ever darkening gloom of the swamp and emerged out into the purpling mauve skies of the lake shore they turned south east and followed the lake swamp boundary back to Capchonrouge where they tied up and off loaded all they had caught or shot that day. While the younger men loaded up the pickups with their guns, the remainder of the food and the assortment of dead bird, reptiles and mammals, Samuel, Jean, Papite and Achile assembled their fishing rods, threaded their lines, attached baited hooks and sat down on a ledge with their backs against the radiant heat of the sandstone walls of Capchonrouge.
As they sat with their feet dangling down just above the water they cast their lines out and relaxed, an Osprey climbed up through the heavy evening air, a silver fish glistening in its talons to land on its nest high up in the canopy of a nearby Cypress. Next a pair of Brown Pelican flew low, wings flapping slowly as they escorted each other in silhouette to the far shores of the lake. The men sat in silence for a while enjoying the wonderful sights of nature that were revealing themselves as the dusk grew darker and the frogs, crickets and numerous other inhabitants of this beautiful land started their evening serenade. The tobacco was passed around and then a couple of bottles appeared, one contained some home made shine and they other was a dark colored sour mash whiskey. They were soon joined by the younger men who, as their elders did, prepared their rods and cast their lines out onto the fiery waters of the lake. The sky was a deep maroon purple, and to the south east out across the lake the first stars were starting to appear.
If the day of hunting had been successful the last couple of hours fishing was, as Papite proclaimed more than once was
“Etrange!!.”
If it swam in the lake or surrounding swamps, creeks and bayous they caught it. They landed Largemouth Bass, Small Mouthed Bass, Bluegill, White and Black Crappie, White and Stripped Bass, three good sized forty pound Blue Catfish, Bream, two Walleye Pike, an assortment of Carp and three large snapping Choupique or ”Bowfin” that Juste caught fishing out on the edge of a reed bed that skirted the northern part of Capchonrouge. These fearsome fish who were ambush hunters, with jaws lined with needle sharp teeth weighed in at roughly ten pounds, sixteen pounds and nineteen pounds respectively, with the heaviest measured by a proud Juste to be twenty nine inches in length.
By the time darkness had enveloped them in its shroud for quite some time they had quenched their thirsts with an assortment of cans of beer, shine and sour mash whiskey and everyone was relaxed and happy. Joshua was voted by every man present to be hunter of the day for his brilliant taking of the White Tailed stag, and Jean Jnr said with genuine admiration.
“Boi that sure was one god damm good shot,….Yuh might be hunter of the year.”
He whistled and clapped as they all congratulated a slightly embarrassed Joshua. Samuel was voted unanimously as their mascot, they had all agreed that as far back as any of them could remember there had not been a hunt that had been so successful, Jean, Papite and Achile had also congratulated Samuel on his duck shooting, having the balls to initiate the shoot successfully and shooting seven.
It was nearly ten at night by the time they pulled up back in Malase, Samuel thanked everyone for the day of hunting and sharing their skills and knowledge with him and said his goodnights, Jean promised to come on by in the next few days or so with his share of the hunt, once it had all been butchered correctly and hung a little in a cool store, he slapped Samuel hard on the back as he climbed into his pickup.
“Jusqu’à ce que alors mon ami… until then.”
Samuel leant over and shook Jean firmly by the hand
“Thanks Jean…., yes until then, Jean…um, I must ask now we are alone, uh ….what was all the laughing about earlier?…., the noise in the woods and the two riffle shots, I didn’t get it”
Jean’s face creased with a wide grin and he explained the reason behind the explosion of laughter and why he, Papite and Achile had fallen about laughing for no apparent reason.
The sound they all heard, that Juste rightly identified as the sound that a cougar would make, hence the fear the younger men had etched on their faces, was not made by the large predatory cat but by a dear friend of Jean, Papite and Achile. It was made by Nitushi or Young Bear to give him his American name, a Choctaw native and one of only three that still lived in the surrounding parish. He was nearly ninety years of age, looked about sixty and was as strong and fit as a man of thirty. He lived about fifteen miles north east of Lokchapi in a wooden cabin deep in the mixed oak, ash, elm, and maple forests that carpeted the higher land further to the north of Lake Cavelier. The only means of access to his cabin was to know where to find it, as it lay some six miles away from the nearest track, deep in the thick and ancient woodland. He was renown for his tracking, hunting and trapping skills and had taught Jean, Achile and Papite much about the surrounding country and its flora and fauna, much more than was passed down to them by their own fathers, his knowledge was a knowledge of thousands of years living in the landscape before the ‘white man’ had turned his people off of their land.
The ‘Yaarl’ sound that they had all heard was Nitushi saying hello, he had heard their gunshots and probably tracked them for a while. Only a handful of local hunting men, men of the swamps and forests knew Nitushi, maybe fifteen at the most, Nitushi would let out his call twice, which the hunters who knew him would reply immediately to with two gunshots and then in turn he would reply with two more calls. It was their way of communicating, he was letting the hunting party know he was near and if they responded with two immediate shots, then the hunters were friends of his, if no shots were fired in reply he knew they were not men of the forest and he would keep his distance. In turn if after their two gunshots there was not an immediate two more ‘Yaarls’ then Papite, Achile and Jean would have known that a real live Cougar was stalking them.
There had been much publicity about this beautiful, rare and powerful ambush hunter becoming extinct but all of the hunting party with the exception of Samuel had seen one lurking in the shade of the forests over the years and finding tracks was not that uncommon. Theo had seen one only a couple of months earlier in early April when he was out checking traps some three miles north east of Malase where the swamp gave way to forest. It was certainly an animal to be frightened of as it could ambush even the stealthiest and most alert hunter. Jean went on to explain that none of the boys knew of Nitushi’s special call and their reply, hence their laughter at the worried faces of the boys on hearing the high pitched scream.
“il les maintient vigilants”….. it keeps them alert… on their toes …. As the Cougar is an animal to be carful of……il a besoin de respect……….it needs respect.”
Jean said with a mischievous smile
Samuel now understood, and was surprised to hear of Cougar being sighted so locally as he had heard it had become extinct.
“I’ve met Nitushi several times over the years when I’ve been out digging my ditches.”
Samuel said to the smiling Jean.
“And I would agree a most fascinating man and with a good sense of humor as well.”
“Mes oui, vous avez raison,…. A funny man.”
Jean agreed with a firm nod of his head.
“D’you know Jean it was only about the third time that I had met him,…. I had been over near Mamou and I was working right at the back of a property just on their wood line, down at the bottom of a deep ditch shoveling mud up and out of the gulley when I caught sight of a man standing watching me.”
It had been Samuel’s left peripheral vision that had picked up this information and fed it to his conscious brain that responded by turning his head to the left to look up and over towards his observer.
Samuel continued with his story.
“It was Nitushi, he greeted me and came over and sat on the edge of the ditch and we talked some while I worked,…. We somehow got onto the subject of names and Nitushi explained that his name meant young bear. I asked him if the first thing that his mother had seen once he had been born was a young bear, hence his name,… you know how we think they name their kids. Nitushi exploded with laughter Jean, …. I mean he literally had tears coming down his face as apparently it‘s a common misconception that we of European decent have about their ways……. He had said that if it had have been true then he would have been called ‘Fainting Father’ because his father was an extremely young man when Nitishu was born and had fainted at the sight of his son entering the world…………., apparently his younger sister was born outside and would have been called ‘Bird Shit on Knee’ and his youngest brother would have been called ‘Two Dogs Fucking’.
Jean let out a roar of laugher.
”I’l ne m’a avant jamais dit cela, …. He has never told me that at all.”
He said in between laughs. Samuel laughed along with Jean for a moment as his conversation with Nitushi all those years ago replayed through his mind.
“Well I’ll be off then and thanks again.”
Samuel said as he started his engine and turned his headlights on.
“ Bonne chasse, gardez bien et je vous verrai tot…….see you soon.”
Came the reply from Jean as Samuel reversed away from Jean’s shack and slowly drove out of Malase. Samuel wore a large smile on his face, a smile that went from ear to ear in a Cheshire cat kind of way, his mood elevated with his mind replaying different parts of the day of hunting. Before he knew it he was pulling up onto his driveway, home from the hunt with a hundred different things to tell SJ and Jason about, the darkness and stagnation of the last few weeks had been pushed firmly aside for the time being, at that moment he was happy. As he opened the kitchen door Pooh and Moo greeted him with their normal excitement, tails wagging, toys in their mouths.
“Hello.”
He called into the house, but all was quiet, he took of his gaiters and boots at the door and left them on the veranda, with his two faithful dogs encircling him with their joyous welcome he closed the kitchen door behind him and locked it.
“Hello.”
He called again but the downstairs was silent and in darkness apart from the light in the hallway. He led his two dogs out of the kitchen and up the stairs, lights were still on in both SJ’s room and Jason’s, so he knocked first on Jason’s door and entered.
“Hey Jason, had a good day?
He asked of his son who was laying on his bed, TV on in the corner, tapping furiously away on his laptop keyboard. Jason didn’t look up, he had his headphones on, his face illuminated by the screen of his laptop and he was totally engrossed in his music and something on Facebook. Samuel tapped him lightly on the shoulder and repeated.
”Hey Jason had a good day?”
Jason jumped, ripping off his headphones and shouted.
”Oh my god you made me jump, what do you want?”
“I just wanted to see if you had a good day at college and tell you all about my day hunting…….It was.”
Jason cut his dad of with an angry scowl
“College was OK, now I’m trying to sort out a problem, can you please leave me alone?”
“Don’t you want to hear about the day I’ve had and all the things we caught and shot?”
“Nah, ceebs”
Came the grunted response from Jason who adjusted his headphones and got straight back to tapping away on his keyboard.
Samuel had learned the meaning of ‘ceebs’, which in teen slang meant can’t be assed, and it conveyed both annoyance, lack of interest and a total lack in motivation all in the one short phrase.
Rather dejectedly Samuel stepped back out of Jason’s room and closed his bedroom door. ‘I’ll tell SJ all about my day’. He thought to himself as he tapped gently on her door, his mind overflowing with things to tell her. There was no reply so he tapped gently again and entered. SJ was fast asleep bathed in the warm glowing light of her bed side lamp, her Kindle was resting next to her on the pillow with her reading glasses still perched on her nose. As Samuel gently took her glasses off SJ stirred momentarily and rolled over, he put her kindle on her bed side cabinet and turned her lamp off . Closing the door behind him he walked back down the corridor, down the stairs, across the hallway and into the kitchen, all the while escorted closely by his two best friends. He turned the kitchen lights on, turned the kettle on, put a large spoonful of coffee and two sugars into a mug and took the cookie jar out of one of the cupboards, with a loud screeching sound he pulled out a kitchen chair from the table and slumped down into it.
His elation and the bounce in his step had gone, sitting there quietly in his chair with his dogs laying one to each side he looked like a deflated balloon, his shoulders sagged and his head hung forward. The kettle clicked off as a column of steam rushed from its spout. Samuel heaved himself up and in a stiff robotic manner walked over and poured himself a coffee, he added little milk as he liked it strong. Sitting back down, he leaned forwards arms on the table staring down into the darkness of his coffee, the small bubbles and froth swirled around in the middle of the mug like a miniature hurricane, as he stared the darkness in his mind started to descend. A blankness washed over him sapping all of his emotion and energy with each wave of bleakness. He shook his head and clawed at his hair with his finger tips as he fought its onslaught
‘Fuck off!!…. Fuck off!!… ‘ He thought to himself, ‘Leave me alone…. I’ve had a brilliant day… I am happy…………I am happy.’ he repeated to himself over and over in his head. The battle ragged back and forth for a minute, ten minutes, an hour, Samuel neither cared nor knew, time was an irrelevance to him, he was lost in his mind. Each successive wave of cruel darkness and despair was pierced with a rearguard action of positive thoughts and emotions. Each one sparkled in the darkness before fizzling out like the dying embers of a firework.
After a time an enormous eruption of light and logic engulfed his mind, it swept the darkness before it and banished it to the recesses of his mind. It was a simple piece of logic a simple thought but one that won the day. It was not SJ’s fault that she had had an extremely busy day and was tired and was asleep, and Jason was just being a teenager he was a young man now with his own mind and anyway what interest would it be to Jason when he had cars and girls to think about. This simple piece of logical thinking that swept away the gloom also brought with it a smile that crept across Samuel’s face, happiness had returned,
“C’mom boy’s time for bed.”
He said to his two sleeping sentries before waking them up letting them out into the garden for a quick pee before the three of them climbed the stairs to bed. Samuel’s mood stayed relatively buoyant and positive for a time, he told both SJ and Jason of his hunting adventures the next day and any of his clients that cared to listen would be told of the hunt he had been on and the positive effect it had had on him.
I hope you enjoy your reading. It is available on Kindle and a free copy can be borrowed for download at https://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Blue-Heron-Howard-Moore-ebook/dp/B00KK6BWLK..
Howard Moore
