I taught my dogs to circle for a good hundred yards to be sure he was still in the tree before bawling.
In order to learn more about coon hunting, I’d hang around my grandfather’s store and listen to the stories told by the coon hunters.
Some of the tales I heard were long and tall, but I believed them all.
I could always tell when Grandpa was kidding me by the twinkle in his eyes.
He told me how a coon could climb right up the fog and disappear in the stars, and how he could leap on a horse’s back and run him over your dogs.
I didn’t care, for I loved to hear the tall tales.
Anything that had a coon hair in it I believed completely.
All through that summer and into the late fall the training went on.
Although I was worn down to a frazzle, I was a happy boy. I figured I was ready for the ringtails.
Late one evening, tired and exhausted, I sat down by a big sycamore and called my dogs to me.
It’s all over,I said.There’ll be no more lessons.
I’ve worked hard and I’ve done my best. From now on it’s all up to you.
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