Whistler in the woods

Note: The colloquialisms and bad grammar here are intentional.

35 years ago or so, me and Ron decided to go deer huntin'.

We was off Bowen road between the Copeland place and where the Johnstons used to live.

We pulled into the field about 3:30. I'm pretty sure it was a corn field. Maybe peanuts. Wasn't nobody growin' cotton back then, so I know it wasn't that.

We talked a minute or two and decided on our signals. A long whistle meant we was comin' out of the woods to meet up to go home.

We struck out in different directions to find a tree to sit in. He went north. I went south.

I found me a nice tree with some good limbs lookin' out over the field. It was some easy climbing hard wood. I don't rightly remember what exactly. Coulda been oak or black walnut. It was wet in there so it coulda been black gum.

It was kinda hard gettin' back there. There was black berry bushes everywhere toward the edge of the woods. Then there was a tangle of grape vines and briars what we call "wait a minutes". Them vines got some long thorns and it takes a minute to get free from them.

I sat there for a good long time and didn't see nothin' other than birds and squirrels.

The sun was goin' down and I reckoned it was time to head back. I stuck my fingers in my mouth and let out a good, long whistle.

I heard Ron whistle back. He was somewhere 'tween a quarter and a half mile away off to my right.

I climbed down and started makin' my way through the vines when I heard Ron whistle again.

Sounded like he was closer and for some reason movin'behind me. I answered his whistle and kept fightin' the briars.

Ron whistled again and it sounded like he was about a hundred yards away and almost directly behind me. Then I heard something crashing through the woods.

Briars be damned. I ran through them things and whatever was behind me was a gettin' closer.

I jumped into the field and ran at a full gallop back to the truck. Ron was standin' there waitin' on me.

I musta looked pretty bad by the way he was lookin' at me.

I was all cut up and bleedin'. My clothes was all shredded up.

He stood there for a minute then spit. "What got after you?"

To this day I ain't got an answer for him.

But we ain't been back to that spot.

Image by me taken at Moccasin Creek State Park, Georgia, USA.