A Huntin' We Will Go?~

 Florida Pine Scrub

     First, an admission. I am a True Florida Cracker; however, I'm more of a "Sand Cracker." I was born and raised in Miami. My mom's family was from North Florida, but her daddy moved to South Florida to work for McArthur's Dairy. Daddy's family moved to Miami from Georgia. Being a Sand Cracker means that I'm much more comfortable swimming at the beach, snorkeling, shaking Sargasso seaweed to find the critters which hide there, and fishing--saltwater, fresh water, and brackish water. Daddy wasn't a hunter. Yeah, my brother got the requisite BB gun one Christmas, but he never graduated to a 22. The most he shot at was targets and roaches, I believe. Being raised in a suburban environment, added to Daddy's absolute phobia of snakes, meant that we pretty much stayed out of any woods.The closest we got to proper woods were the mangrove swamps where Daddy would take us fishing.

     That said, I did spent my summers up in Okeechobee County, and my Uncle Larry did like to hunt. One day, he took us out in his truck to some old dirt roads that wound through the woods. I was to sit on the hood of the truck and keep watch for rabbits' ears. When I saw one, I knocked on the windshield; Larry jumped out and would take a shot. I would cower with hands over my ears because I was, and still am, afraid of guns. He missed--a lot--and I was glad for that because I didn't want to see any bunnies get shot. Sometimes, Larry and Granddaddy would take us out to an area where there was a hunting camp set up and we'd walk through the woods. There was a little lean-to by a pond, which was beautiful, and I enjoyed walking in the woods. This was in the summer, so not really hunting season, but Larry always took his gun. Once, Granddaddy's little Chihuahua, Tinkerbell, jumped over a large rattlesnake. That snake coiled up to strike, but Granddaddy just scooped up Tinkerbell, told us to stay still, and called over Larry to shoot the snake. I'm not especially afraid of snakes, but I sure did have more respect for them after he shot the snake once, and it didn't die. Instead, it struck the barrel of the gun. I could see the venom dripping down the barrel. **BOOM** A second shot, and the snake was neatly dispatched.
                                                                                                                  

A real snipe

                                                                           

My idea of a snipe

     However, that same summer, I did go on a snipe hunt. Larry and our cousin Maynard decided to take me and the boys (my brother Billy and my cousins Clint and Stevie) on a walk in the pine scrub. My cousins grew up in the country, and they       were used to walking in the woods. We meandered through the cow pastures and all the way back to where the pasture ended and the scrub began. We walked until we found a little "island" (a mound of dirt, really) which was surrounded by ditches. It needed exploring, so we all crossed over to poke around. It was then that Larry and Maynard pulled their first trick. They jumped back over the ditch and took off running--followed by me and then the boys, with Stevie pulling up the rear. He was yelling, "Don't leave me, Uncle Larry! Wait for me!" 

      Larry, Maynard, and I were laughing because the boys were all so slow. Then, they came up with an idea. We'd hunt for snipe. They told the three boys to get some sticks, and then to wait and squat down near some bushes to hide from the snipe. Larry, Maynard, and I were going to go a little ways off to shoo the snipe toward the boys. Larry told them to beat the bushes with the sticks and make a hooting call to lure the snipe over. I was really excited. I didn't know what a snipe was, but I thought maybe it would be a cute furry animal. I willingly went with the guys. Then, Larry told me the secret of a snipe hunt. There were not snipe in the woods. We were just going to shake the bushes a bit and tell the boys to keep calling and that the snipe were coming. While the boys were hooting, we'd take off and leave them there in the woods. I can't lie. I was disappointed that there were no snipe. However, the fun of scaring the boys more than made up for that disappointment. Billy, Clint, and Stevie were hooting for all they were worth. We shook the bushes and called out that the snipe were coming. We sneaked off a little ways, really quietly, and then took off as fast as we could run. It was hard to run because I was laughing so hard because I could hear one of the boys say, "Hey, I think it's a trick!" They all started yelling for us and running after us. We didn't stop until we reached the cow pasture where the boys caught up. They were so mad (make that frightened); we were bent over double with laughter. My last, and best, hunting trip.