The Hunting Dog

2010-02-15T18:35:00.000-08:00

"Tranum, I durn near killed that hunting dog you sold me!" Daddy pushed his chair back until it rested on the back legs with the backrest against the porch railing. He chewed a straw that he occasionally took out of his mouth and jabbed in the air to punctuate a sentence.

Uncle Tranum reddened at what he figured was an insult against the pups he raised. But, being slow to anger, he decided to get to the bottom of Daddy's story.

"Now, Broughton, that dog's as good as any you'll find anywhere. Why would you want to hurt it?"

"Well, I decided a few weeks ago to step up his training, so I took him on his first hunting trip. Me and Wilson went back on Dodd's farm, looking for quail. Rebel, my dog, seemed like he was real anxious to get started and almost as soon as he got out of the car, he was off and sniffing for the birds. I couldn't help but brag to Wilson that Rebel would probably be one of the top hunting dogs in Alabama by the time I was through training him."

"He sounds to me like he was right on the spot with his training. So what's the problem?" Uncle Tranum's face was calm, but from my spot under the tree where I played with my dolls, I could see the muscles twitching in his jaw.

"I'm getting to it." Daddy leaned forward to pick up his iced tea and take a swallow before continuing. "All of a sudden that dog came to a perfect point. It was the prettiest thing I've ever seen in a hunting dog. Tail straight forming a perfect line up his body to his nose. I pointed it out to Wilson before telling the dog to flush the birds. He was impressed, too. Suddenly, without the dog moving an inch, a bird flew up and I bagged it. I gave the order to Rebel to retrieve. He didn't move! That dog did not take one step. I figured since we were a pretty good distance behind him, he hadn't heard me, so I gave the command louder. He held the perfect point, but refused to budge! Another bird took to the air. Wilson brought it down. I ordered Rebel to retrieve, but he continued to stand where he was. "

"Now that don't sound right, Broughton. He comes from champion stock! You sure you trained him right? Were you rushing him? No, by now he should be more than ready. What happened?" Uncle Tranum wasn't the only one paying close attention. Aunt Olene had forgotten her bean shelling and was riveted on the conversation.

"Why, Mary, do you hear that? I believe those two might start fighting!" She turned to Mama, who seemed completely calm about the escalating conversation.

"I wouldn't worry, Olene. They're big boys." Mama continued shelling the beans, but Aunt Olene couldn't tear herself away from Daddy and Uncle Tranum.

"I screamed at that hound to go forward and flush the birds. He never so much as moved a muscle! I might as well have been mute for all the good ordering him did. Wilson was howling with laughter over my champion dog. It was a toss up which one I'd whup first him or the animal!. I stomped up to the beast and just before I reached him, another bird flew up! I raised my gun, but Wilson was quicker. 'Rebel, FETCH!' I ordered. That miserable dog stood his ground, refusing to pick up even one of the birds we shot. I was bound and determined he would pick them up, if I had to stuff them into his mouth myself! I decided when we got home that sad excuse for a hunting dog would be going to the pound."

"Now, Broughton, you could have brought him back to me. I would have given your money back." Uncle Tranum's complexion deepened, headed from red to purple. I was getting worried about him, but Daddy seemed not to notice.

"Well, that didn't occur to me at the time, Tranum. I just wanted to get rid of that dog! Wilson was almost convulsed with laughter by this time. I don't think he could have aimed at another bird, if his life depended on it. I got to Rebel fully intending to knock him off his feet if necessary to get him to move. That's when I saw it. It was so amazing, I almost sat right down on the spot! That dog had his foot over a hole in the ground. Just as I reached him, he lifted his foot just enough to let another bird fly away!"

Uncle Tranum came real close to knocking Daddy's chair over when he realized he had been the butt of one of Daddy's tall tales. Aunt Olene wasn't quite so fast to pick up on it.

"Why, Broughton, that's a smart dog! Tranum, did any of the other pups learn to do that? Broughton, you ought to write the papers about Rebel!"

"Olene," Mama said, quietly, "Broughton was putting one over on Tranum. The dog can't really do that."

Everybody broke up laughing and for this little girl, it sure was a relief to see.

Children of a Great Depression

2010-02-09T11:46:00.000-08:00

The following story was told to me by Mama.

**************

We met and defeated the Depression without Papa. He lay dying on the iron springs and cotton mattress of his and Mama's bed. Pleurisy was what the doctor said. I didn't know what it was; I just knew Papa laid down and never left the bed again until we buried him in Liberty Church cemetery.

He had been a tall man, dwarfing Mama, who stood a bit over five feet tall. His sons and daughters were blessed with good height from Papa and determination from Mama. When Papa died, Tranum, the oldest was barely seventeen. Monroe, next in line of the sons, was fifteen, Wilson fourteen and Limon (or Pod as I called him) was but six years old.

Of the girls, sister Margaret (I called her Dune but never knew why. It just seemed to fit.) was sixteen, having been born the year after Tranum. I, the baby of the family, was but five years old. My name is Mary, but my whole family called me Meg.

I clung to Mama's skirts when they put the box with Papa's body in the ground. I wondered if he would be afraid of the dark. When they started putting the dirt on top of him, I couldn't bear to look. What if the dirt got in Papa's eyes, nose and mouth. The fact he was encased in a pine wood casket didn't make it any easier to see him buried.

Even after the funeral, I kept expecting to see Papa when I went in his and Mama's room. The bed seemed strangely empty.

Mama took the running of the farm into her own hands, but she made Tranum the manager since he was the biggest and oldest of the boys. He made sure we all knew our tasks and stuck to them, except me and Pod. But there came a time when even we had to hoe and weed the crops. Every now and then I cut down more plants than weeds, but Tranum was pleased to see me trying. Mama wasn't so lenient. She demanded that I be taught proper and do my share.

With the other kids being so much older, me and Pod were closest to each other. We'd get in trouble and somehow manage to get out again, usually through our own devices. One thing you could always count on was I would lead us into a problem and Pod would solve it and save our necks most times. Every now and then, one of the older kids helped us out, but unlike today, we were forced to think for ourselves. Mama didn't have time to guide our every move and keep us out of painful situations. She figured we would learn our lessons one way or the other.

We didn't have a lot of hugs from Mama, but we knew through her insistence on our survival during the Depression, that she loved us dearly. We returned her love by helping all we could.

When he reached eighteen, the time came for the oldest boy to go into service. Since he was now the man of the family, Wilson and Monroe went instead. They fibbed about their ages, but they were both such big strapping fellows, they could pass for older. That left Tranum, Dune and us y0ungest kids to handle the chores and keep the farm going.

A young man, Earl Rogers, started calling on Dune and even I could see she was smitten. That was two years after Papa died. Within the next year, Earl asked Mama for Dune's hand in marriage. Mama agreed and soon another of her children left the nest. But Dune and Earl lived close by and could help out now and again.

Pod got stronger with each passing year. By the time he was eleven, he had jumped in height and was nearly as tall as Tranum, though leaner of build. I got a spurt of growth in the next couple of years, but still managed to stay the shortest of Mama's children at five feet seven inches. Tranum had topped out at six feet five inches and the others all fell in between.

Though a year's difference separated us, Pod and I looked so much alike, folks often thought we were twins. We both had raven black hair, olive complexions and hazel eyes. The resemblance went all the way to our wavy hair. A lock of his hair always fell over Pod's eye, giving him a sexiness all the girls noticed. My shoulder-length tresses caught the attention of the boys. But neither of us was interested in dating. It wouldn't have mattered if we were. Mama was real strict about such things. Sixteen was the magic time when we might go to parties and dance with the opposite sex, but single dating had to wait. I was in no hurry to leave childhood behind and Pod seemed content to live on the farm and help any way he could.

Then one day, Mama gave us the news. She sold the land and the house! We were moving to the city! Little did I know how that would change my life and bring the man I would marry into it. And I had no idea how his family and all its skeletons would get thoroughly entangled in our marriage.

I Remember Mama and Daddy

The Hunting Dog

Children of a Great Depression