MELVILLE--FIRST DEER HUNT.
Melville, La., Jan. 19, 1904.--We found this a quiet little town of 600
people, including negroes; with sufficient stores for our simple needs,
and a daily mail east and west. We found some pleasant young gentlemen
here, with plenty of leisure and hounds, and some of us go out for deer
every day. So far no one has brought in any venison, but Jim and Frank
have had shots.
The thermometer stands at about 60 to 70 all day; fires are superfluous
except at night for the weak one, the grass and clover show up green in
spots, and really we seem to have skipped winter. In the swamps the
palmettoes raise their broad fans, the live oaks rear their brawny
trunks, and bits of green life show up on all sides. Really, we do not
see what excuse the grass has for being brown, if it be not simple force
of habit, or recollection of a northern ancestry.
The negro women wear extraordinary sunbonnets, huge flaring crowns with
gay trimming. The foreigners are Italians or Greeks; and are in the
fruit and grocery trade. An old superannuated Confed. brings us a small
pail of milk daily, for which he gets 10 cents a quart.
The river is leveed 15 miles down, and the system is being extended
southward. There is a difference of opinion as to the levees, some
claiming they are injurious as preventing the elevation of the land by
deposit of mud; while one large sugar raiser said it would be impossible
to raise crops without them. The truth seems to be that the immediate
needs require the levees; but if one could let the land lie idle, or
take what crops could be raised after the floods subside, it would be
better for the owner of the next century to let in the water.
We have had our first deer hunt. Six of us, with four hounds, set out in
the launch. Arriving at the right place we disembarked and walked
through the woods about a mile, the dogs having meanwhile started out
independently. Here they located us, in a small clear space, and the
rest went on to their respective stands. We looked about us and were not
favorably impressed with our location. It was too open. Deer coming
from any quarter would see us long before we could see them. So we
selected a spot where we could sit down on a log, in the shade of a huge
cypress, with the best cover attainable, and yet see all over the
clearing. Then we waited.
By and by we heard a noise as of breaking twigs to one side. We crouched
down and held our breath, getting the rifle up so as to allow it to bear
in the right direction. Waited. A little more noise, but slight. Waited.
No more. Sat till our backs got stiff and feet cold. Then carefully and
quietly paced up and down the path. Sat down again. Concluded to eat
lunch, an expedient that rarely fails to start the ducks flying. No good
for deer.
Shifted position, walked up the path to a bunch of hollies, laden with
berries. A bird was at them, and as by this time our faith in deer was
growing cool we concluded to take a shot at a robin. Did so. Missed
him--but to our horror and relief he turned out to be a mocking bird!
Walked up the path and found a sluggish bayou with running water across
it. Weren't thirsty, but doubted the wisdom of drinking that water, and
that made us thirsty. Circled around the center of our clearing. Noted
the way the cypresses throw up stumps from the roots. Saw a big turtle
in the bayou. Red birds came about, but no robins--they are game birds
here. Searched the trees for squirrels--none there. Thought of
everything we could recollect--even began to enumerate our sins--and got
into an animated discussion with a stranger on the negro question,
awaking with a start. Shot at a hawk that roosted on a tree just out of
gunshot. Scared him, anyhow.
Finally, when desperate with the task of finding expedients to keep us
awake, we heard a horn blown--or wound?--and not knowing but that some
one might be lost, whistled shrilly in reply. Occasionally a shot was
heard here and there; once in a moon the dogs gave tongue in the remote
distance. Finally one of the boys appeared, then the old uncle, and the
rest came stringing in. One had seen a deer but did not get a shot at
it. So we took up the line of march for the river, where the launch
returned us to the cabin boat. And so ended our first deer hunt.
We have now been at it a week, and several of the boys have had shots
at the animals, but no horns decorate our boat, nor does venison fill
our craving stomachs. There are deer here, their evidences are as plain
as those of sheep in a pasture. But the only benefit they have been to
us is in the stimulation of the fancy. The weird and wonderful tales
spun by those who have had shots at the elusive creatures, to account
for the continued longevity and activity of their targets, are worth
coming here to hear. Surely never did deer go through such antics; never
did the most expert tumbler in any circus accomplish such feats of
acrobatic skill. The man who catches flying bullets in his teeth should
come down here and receive instruction from these deer.
We took the Missis and daughter over to Baton Rouge, and installed them
in a huge, old-fashioned room, on Church St., a block from the
postoffice and the leading stores; with a lady of means, who sets an
excellent table, lavishly spread, and with the best of cookery, at a
price that seems nominal to us. The lofty ceilings seem doubly so after
the low deck of the cabin; the big canopied bed of walnut and quilted
silk recalls the east; while violets, camellias, hyacinths and
narcissus blooming in the open air, as well as sweet olive, and the
budding magnolias, make one realize that the frozen north is not a
necessity.
* * * * *
January 23, 1904.--We find Melville a very good place to stay--supplies
plentiful, the people pleasant, and the place safe. The boys go out for
deer every day, but as yet no success has rewarded them. One day they
chased a doe into the river, where two boys caught her with their hands
and slaughtered her. Bah!
The weather has been ideal--warm enough to make a fire oppressive save
nights and mornings--but we are now having a cold snap, whose severity
would make you northern folk, who sit in comfort over your registers,
shiver. We have actually had a white frost two nights in succession.
Fact!
On the shore close by roost at least 100 buzzards. They are protected
and seem aware of it; roosting on the roof of the fish boat below us.
They tell us the sharks come up here so that bathing is unsafe, and tell
queer stories of the voracity and daring of the alligator gars. The
alligator is by no means extinct in Louisiana, being still found of
gigantic size in the bayous.
Little is said here on the negro question, which seems to be settled so
well that no discussion is needed.
Day after day we sit at the typewriter and the work grows fast. Tomorrow
we go to Barrow's convict camp for a shoot, and quite a lot have
gathered, and are waiting till the engine chooses to start. Every day we
have to push the boat from shore or we might be hard aground in the
morning, as we are today. The water fell last night till it uncovered
six feet of mud by the shore. The river is said to be over 100 feet deep
opposite. The bridge is built on iron tubular piers that seem to be
driven down till they strike a stratum capable of supporting the weight.
These are said to be 100 feet deep.
* * * * *
January 24, 1904, we all went down to Capt. Barrow's camp for a deer
hunt, which possessed no features differing from those of the five
preceding. At 4 p. m. we quit, and started on our return. But the dogs
had not come in, so when we got up to the old convict camp we stopped,
and Budd and Jake went back for them. And there we waited till after 10
p. m. It grew quite cool so that the boys built a fire. Just on the
bluff above us was an old deserted house, about ready to fall into the
river when the banks shall have crumbled away a little more. We found in
it an ancient mahogany four-post bedstead and a spinning-wheel, an old
horn powderhorn, and other relics of antiquity.
There were our own party of four, Budd and Wally, Thomassen and his son
"Sugar," Mr. Sellers (from one of the Melville stores), and two negro
hunters, Brown and Pinkham--and right worthy men and good hunters they
are. The fire was fed by beams from the old house, and as its cheerful
warmth was felt, the scene would have been a worthy one for an artist's
pencil. The odd stories and ceaseless banter of the negroes and the boy
were enhanced by the curious dialect. Constantly one blew his horn, and
was answered by the party who were out, or by others; and some one else
was blowing for other lost dogs, so that the woods were musical. An old
hound had come in early, tired out, and when the horns blew he would try
to get off, but was tied; so he would give vent to his discontent in
the most doleful of long-drawn-out howls, like a prolonged note from an
owl. At last boys and hounds came in, and we were home to our boat by
midnight.
Somehow the yoke once worn till thoroughly fitted to the neck, becomes a
part of the bearer; and the best contented of the negroes were those who
held with their old masters. Even the shackles of civilization become
attractive in time--and we have resumed the reading of a daily paper
since we can get it regularly. And we like the _Picayune_, finding in
its editorials a quiet dignity that we appreciate, even though we may
not agree with the political sentiments. And there is an air of
responsibility about it; a consciousness that what it says counts, and
must therefore be preceded by due deliberation, that is novel. The local
color is also attractive. For instance the river news, and--the
jackstaffs! Now, don't say you do not know what jackstaffs are. We will
not spoil it by telling. And Lagniappe!