HOW WE GOT INTO TROUBLE ONE NIGHT, AND I SCARED.
One warm day in winter father and I went hunting. I had the rifle that
day. We went south, crossed the windfall and Reed creek, and went into
what we called the "big woods." We followed deer, but seemed to be very
unlucky, for I couldn't shoot them. We travelled in the woods all day and
hunted the best we could.
Just at sundown, deer that have been followed all day are apt to stop and
browse a little. Then if the wind is favorable and blowing from them to
you, it is possible to get a shot at them; but if the wind is blowing
from you to them, you can't get within gunshot of them. They will scent
you. They happened to be on the windward side, as we called it. I got a
shot at one and killed it. It was late and, carelessly, I didn't load the
rifle. It being near night, I thought I should not have a chance to shoot
anything more.
It was my custom to load the rifle after shooting, and if I didn't have
any use for it before, when I got near home, I shot at a mark on a tree
or something. In that way I practiced shooting and let the folks know I
was coming. In this way I also kept the rifle from rusting, as sometimes
it was wet; when I got into the house I cleaned it off and wiped it out.
In a few minutes we had skinned the two fore quarters out. Then we
wrapped the fore part of the hide around the hind quarters, and each took
a half and started. It was now dark, and we did not like to undertake
going home straight through the woods, so took our way to the Reed house,
from which there was a dim path through to Pardee's, and we could find
our way home.
We were tired and hungry, and our feet were wet from travelling through
the soft snow. As Mr. Reed had moved away there was no one in the house,
and we went in and kindled a fire in the fireplace. The way we did it, I
took some "punk" wood out of my pocket, held flint stone over it, struck
the flint with my knife, and the punk soon took fire. We put a few
whitlings on it, then some sticks we had gathered in the way near by the
house. We soon had a good fire and were warming and drying our feet.
This "punk" I got from soft maple trees. When I wanted some I went into
the woods and looked for an oldish tree, looked up, and if I could see
black knots on the body of the tree, toward the top, I knew there was
"punk" wood in it and would cut it down, then cut half way through the
log, above and below the black knot, and split it off. In the center of
the log I was sure to find "punk" wood. Sometimes, in this way, I got
enough to last a year or two from one tree. It was of a brown color and
was found in layers, which were attached and adhered together. When I
chopped a tree I took out all I could find, carried it home, laid it up
in a place where it would get drier, and it was always ready for use.
We had to use the utmost precaution not to get out of this material.
Sometimes I have known my little Michigan sister, Abbie, to go more than
a quarter of a mile, to the Blare place, to borrow fire; on such
occasions we had to wait for breakfast until she returned. I do not know
that the fire was ever paid back, but I do know that we had callers
frequently when the errand was to borrow fire.
When I went hunting I was careful to take a piece of this with me. I
broke or tore it off (it was something like tearing old cloth). With
this, a flint and a jackknife I could make a fire in case night overtook
me in the woods and I could not get out. Fire was our greatest protection
from wild animals and cold in the night. This was the way we kindled our
fire in the Reed house, before "Lucifer matches" or "Telegraph matches"
were heard of by us, although they were invented as early as 1833. After
we got a little comfortable and rested, and the wood burned down to coals
we cut some slices of venison, laid them on the coals and roasted them.
Although we had no salt, the meat tasted very good.
Late in the evening we took our venison and started again. It was hard
work to follow the path in the thick woods, and we had to feel the way
with our feet mostly as it was quite dark. We had got about eighty rods
from the house when, as unexpected as thunder in the winter, broke upon
our startled ears the dismal yells and awful howls of wolves. No doubt
they had smelled our venison and come down from the west, came down
almost upon us and broke out with their hideous yells. The woods seemed
to be alive with them. Father said: "Load the rifle quick!" I dropped my
venison, and if ever I loaded a gun quick, in the dark, it was then. I
threw in the powder, ran down a ball without a patch, and, strange to
say, before I got the cap on the wolves were gone, or at least they were
still, we didn't even hear them run or trot. What it was that frightened
them we never knew; whether it was our stopping so boldly or the smell
of the powder, or what, I cannot say; but we did refuse to let them have
our venison. We got away with it as quickly as possible and carried it
safety home.
Another wolf adventure worth relating: I had been deer hunting; I had
been off beyond what we called the Indian hill and was returning home. I
was southwest of this hill, and on the north side of a little ridge which
ran to the hill, when two wolves came from the south. They ran over the
little ridge, crossing right in front of me, to go into a big thicket
north. I had my rifle on them. They did halt, but in shooting very
quickly I did not get a very good sight, however, I knocked one down and
thought I had killed him. (They were just about of a size, and when I
shot, the other went back like a flash the way he came from.) I loaded
the rifle, but before I had it loaded the one I had shot got up and
looked at me. I saw what I had done. I had cut off his lower jaw, close
up, and it hung down. Another shot finished him quickly. He measured six
feet from the end of his nose to the point of his tail.
I have seen many wolves, I have seen them in shows, but never saw any
that compared in size with these Michigan wolves. It takes a very
large, long dog to measure five feet. There was a bounty on wolves. I
went down through the woods to Squire Goodel's, who lived near the
Detroit river, got him to make out my papers and got the bounty. These
pests were more shy in the day-time. They were harder to get a shot at
than the deer. There were many of them in the woods, and we heard them
so often nights that we became familiar with them. When the "Michigan
Central Railroad" was built, and the cars ran through Dearborn, there
was something about the iron track, or the noise of the cars which
drove them from the country.