Preserving our “path home “on the Elkhorn Creek : based on a true story.

I was 16 and met a girlfriend ,at school. She had moved from Paintsville Ky to Frankfort ,with her family , her daddy was an army recruiter.

Well.. the word got around to their mountain “wealthy “coon hunter friends ,in Paintville that I lived on this farm on the banks of the south fork of Elkhorn and ,that we had a large population of coons , second to none in the state . The land is pretty flat here , creek not to deep , no mountain cliffs for their coon hounds or hunters to fall off of , plenty of corn planted ,and aquatic life to feed coons and just as important- no venomous snakes .

So it wasn’t long before a coon hunt was set up on a late summer evening, and I was the guide !

And it was my first coon hunt ! [Coons are nocturnal.]

These good ol’ boys came pulling up at my family’s house on the farm , after driving several hours from the mountains, about dusk, in a couple brand new pickups ,with all the bells and whistles $ money can buy! - top of the line dog cages in the back too! After some introductions , I jumped in the front seat of one of the pickups ,and pointed the way to the creek .

There were three of these amiable, gentleman coon hunters , probably in their late thirty’s or early forty’s ,and when I pointed out a place to park ,the hunters unloaded their hounds and commenced to telling me one was a $1,500 coon hound , another $ 5,000 coon hound and the third was a young “ pup” coon hound, they were going to “ train “! They even had “papers” on the hounds and ribbons that the hounds had won at shows and competitions !

. All of the coon hounds , I was told ,were English coon hounds ,or Walkers . Each gentleman owned one. So, …. I made over the intelligent look on the hounds faces ,their good build and coloration-and even petted around on them a little …..The gentlemen appeared to like the attention and high praises I gave their dogs .

They never told me the worth of the young “ pup “ they called it - for some reason….

It wasn’t long before it was pitch black ,except for the star’s shining in the night sky , no moon .

I told them of my plan I had of following the creek around and thru the woods and trees , growing beside it,that a friendly neighbor owned . The neighbor had one big 150 acre cornfield planted in the open land ,not far from the woods . The coon hunters jumped right on that plan , just like their dogs would jump on a coon . So , I pointed the way upstream and we commenced walking ,leading the dogs - or the dogs were leading them ,pulling as hard as they could toward all that scent they could smell !

In one particular spot ,the trees were full of corn shucks and silks from the corn , where the coons would climb up to safety ,while carrying an ear of corn ,and eat the corn at their leisure.

Certain trees were favorites for coons to use and would look as if they were decorated for Christmas with corn silks as “ tensile” hanging down ! Empty cobs and digested corn , everywhere on the ground and stuck in the trees .

The hounds went to baying or howling, right off to bat , smelling the scent of a hot coon trail in these trees , along the ground ——their “ masters “ let them go ……….

Remember- this was before GPS dog collars or implants and cell phones or devices to follow GPS .

The young “ pup “ , they were “ training “ led the way!

These coon hunters each claimed they recognize their own dogs voice and knew who was in the lead ,second and third . I guess these gentleman may have had a sense of echolocation- much like a bat! I don’t know to this day ,if that’s true.

I was fit for my age and the coon hunters appeared to be too ,we all had good flashlights and “ short sleeve” T shirts on . It was muggy and the evenings and nights were still pretty hot .

The hounds immediately busted out of the trees and went straight into the 150 acre corn that was over ten feet tall with ears on ever stalk .

Did you know that individual grass leaves are called blades ,and that corn is a giant grass!

We took in after them ,abreast ,at a brisk , fearless and confident pace, thru the corn ,following the hounds, and eventually couldn’t here their powerful ,booming voices ,baying . ( They run on four legs!) The corn made a rustling sound as we walked tru it ,so we’d stop and listen ever so often ,someone would claim they heard them and we’d change direction- walking thru the giant “ blades “ of grass … with our t shirts on……..( pants and shoes too!)

There was a heavy, thick fog ,that seemed as if you could cut it with a knife ,that manifested itself , a little while later . It blocked out any starlight- while we hiked the corn - in the dark . You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face , without your flashlight .We started stopping a lot more often , after what felt like a couples hours had passed.

I told the still amiable gentleman that we were probably walking in circles ,lost in the fog since we’d gotten onto a real flat 60 acre bottom stretch of this corn - but I could get us out, if they were ready to go back and return in the daylight and search for their hounds! They unanimously agreed ,the hounds were gone and the hunters had lost their zeal for the hunt.

There was also 300 more acres of corn planted” across “the creek on the friendly neighbors farm ,I pointed out to them , and the dogs could have crossed the creek .

I was confused about where I was ,but didn’t feel completely lost . So I put on my “thinking cap “.

We circled making a big loop -them following , and started slowly up the slightest incline . I knew the creek would be my “path home “, and I knew it was down stream or hill, so I turned , and in my “ minds eye” I walk in a straight line , perpendicular from that slight incline , and we walked back , thru that corn , towards the creek .

In a few minutes we could hear it’s water rushing, almost at the sound of a roar in places , over the rocks .

I immediately stepped out in the cool water with the mist rising off it , water about to my waist ,and I washed my arms ,neck and face off ! What a soothing sensation after those hours, walking in that corn!

The coon hunters didn’t thrust my instinct or the “water “ ? They didn’t join me .

I realize years later that many folks in the sparsely populated areas of the mountains ,had “straight pipes “ going from their toilets into the creeks and rivers where the resided .

You know what? I believe they thought that creek did to ( it doesn’t) and knew the danger of E Coli bacterial infections that can hospitalize a healthy person that gets infected by it thru contaminated water ! But they never mentioned or questioned me about the creek water. At 16 years old , I wouldn’t have cared anyway.

I came out of the water and said ,in a pleasant tone , that we needed to follow the creek down stream ,and I would recognize the geographic features of the land where the political boundaries separate my family farm, from the friendly neighbors farm ,that we were on .

I doubt if I used those exact words , but they , in a friendly manner , understood me -although we never shined our lights in each other’s eyes in the pitch black , out of politeness, because that’s painfully blinding. Even though my cheaper flashlight was starting to dim! And I really never saw their expressions in the dark and fog .

That may have been for the best………. Expressions say a thousand words !

After around an hour of walking along the creek , including walking in the shallow waters of the creek for four or five hundred yards to escape a large patch of wild “ cane “ that grew to the creeks edge , we made it back to their trucks . We saw hide nor hair ,or sound from their coon hounds .

The next morning I saw those fellows back ,all smiles and “ chipper”in their trucks . The hunt was over for me ,I informed them , but I wished them well ,with a big smile and handshakes , assured them they were welcome to search for their dogs and, I didn’t think the friendly neighbors cared if they sought their hounds that ran off after all those coons that were in their corn.

I was off to a different task that needed undertaking on the farm .

Those fellows came back on the second day too, and parked their pickups on high points of the farm . During their two days of searching, while resting in or out of their trucks , sitting in chairs , they would whoop and holler those coon hounds names out ever so often - then stop and listen real close . They eventually found them . The hounds had collars with their “owners” home phone numbers on them . The coon hounds were friendly and when they got hungry , they’d loaf around someone’s farm house ,looking for food . The friendly residence, back then , would call the home phone numbers and seemed , quickly, thru the grape vine , able to get a message to the coon hound owners - all the way from Paintsville to Frankfort ! And to my family’s home phone!

We need to preserve the Elkhorn creek .

To this day the Elkhorn’s water’s and sounds are a soothing sensation and “ A Path Home” for many good folks and the wildlife that exist there .

Richard Jones