Chapter 7

Varmints,
Critters,
and Tall
Tales
VARMINTS
As long as I lived at home we had a lot of what everybody referred to as
“varmints”. Ours consistently mostly of skunks and opossums. You hunted them
because they were bad to get chickens and turkeys. They also would get all your
eggs. Too, they were hunted for fur. As we were then on the prairies with no
trees, we did not have foxes or raccoons. They were back towards the Brazos
River. I hunted and sold quite a bit of fur. As I told you before, wages run around
$1.50 per day. A good opossum would bring $1.50. Skunks were selling for $2.50
and up. The less white on them the more they were worth. A solid black skunk
would bring up to $7.50. I only remember one in my life.

When I was small I had this little dog named “Maggie”. We never knew where she
come from. On day she just showed up. She stayed around the barn for about
three days and would not let anyone get close. One day I put out some food and got
her to eat. From then on she was my dog. She was very smart and, as I told you,
she had more nerve than any dog I ever knew. She followed me everywhere I went
and probably kept me from getting snake bit any number of times. She was small
enough that she could go in holes after opossums and drag them out. As they would
usually sull, she seldom got chewed up. For some reason, dark or black opossums
wouldn’t sull. Then I would have to dig her and the opossum both out, as she
wouldn’t quit. Also she was good to find skunks. I could usually get a forked stick
or a piece of barbed wire and twist them out. I had some old clothes that I wore
all during fur season and hung them clear away from the house, then threw them
away. You know how skunk scent would stay with you.

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I honestly believe I could have said “sic-em” and that little dog would have tackled
a bobcat or wolf. I know she would tackle people and cows because I have seen her
do it.

I remember once I caught a big opossum and carried it home by the tail. It was a
hard job as I was so small. I barely remember it. But I was real proud of myself.
I got it home and hollered for Knox to come and see it. I laid it on the ground still
holding onto the tail. Just as Knox come to the door that son-of-a-gun unsulled. I
was just able to bend way over and hold him off my legs. You remember the one
that “grinned” at you in the tree at Rob Thompson’s? Then you know how he could
have chewed me up! Knox saw I was going to be able to keep him from biting me so
he just stood there and laughed. Finally, he did rescue me. His theory was that a
kid needed to learn and the sooner the better. I certainly didn’t make that mistake
again. I ranged all over the county between December and February first. That
was fur season. One year I made over $140.00.

As there wasn’t but a few trees on the prairie, I found most of them in holes, in the
ground, or in straw stacks. They liked the straw because it was warm and easy to
dig in. Also my little dog could go right in after them because the straw would give
and the holes could be made larger. Too, it was easier for me to dig out. It wasn’t
unusual to find several in one stack.

The only woods to speak of were on Bear Creek, which headed close to home. I
would find them in hollow trees and drifts there. If I went several miles, I went
horseback, but if it was just a few miles I walked.

I remember one night something was after our chickens. We all run out to the
chicken house and it was a skunk. We worked around and got him out and tried to
herd him away from the house. No way! He headed for the house to go under it.
We were letting him go so we wouldn’t get scent all over the house. It didn’t work
that way. Just before he got to the house we had this old mother cat that
considered the whole place her territory. She come running out and jumped on the
skunk. He sprayed the whole side of the house and the cat too.

One time they sent me to the cellar to get something. I had told you we kept all
our canned goods in the cellar. One time before I had gone, and when I started out
a rattlesnake was coiled under one of the steps. I made a run and jumped all four
or five steps coming out. Then I went and got a stick and got him out. This day my
dog was along and she growled. I thought there was probably a snake in the cellar.
I said “sic-em”. She dived under some shelves and come out with about the biggest
skunk I have ever seen. She shook him and he sprayed me, the dog, the cellar and

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anything else that was close. Until we moved from that place, many years later, the
cellar still smelled in damp weather.

About the last place the wolves could be found in later years joined our last pasture
to the north. Nobody used it much as it was too rough. It was mostly covered in
heavy and tangled brush. There were steep, rocky bluffs with very little grass. All
sorts of animals were in there: wolves, bobcats, big diamondback rattlers and packs
of wild dogs. I don’t mean “wild dogs” as such. They were dogs that had been
somebody’s pet and run off. They took up in the rough terrain and their pups raised
there were wild dogs. They were a lot worse to kill stock than a pack of wolves and
more apt to attack humans.

I knew the place pretty well as Knox would take me in there to hunt strays.
Sometimes our cattle would get away and go into those “roughs” and they were the
devil to get out. Knox would place me on the best cow horse and I could get into
places a big man couldn’t. I would push them out into the open so they could be
handled.

WOLVES
When I was small there were a lot of wolves in that part of the country. I guess
they scared me about them for a purpose. I can remember being really afraid of
them until about the time I started to school. It wasn’t unusual at all to see ten or
twelve while on the feed run, most of the time on a hill a good ways off or hiding in
grass close to you with just their heads showing. As with a lot of wild animals, if
you had a gun along, you wouldn’t see a one. They wouldn’t come close unless maybe
a dog was with you. Then they would chase the dogs in close to the wagon. I
remember one time our dog run under the wagon and one come so close that Knox
threw an ax at it. Of course, it dodged and the ax didn’t come close. He was that
good. You had to almost ride up on one unexpectedly to be close enough to start
with. He surprised this one sleeping in some cockleburs. You tried to keep them
away from your house or they would get all your chickens and turkeys. They would
also kill your calves. I never knew of them attacking a human. I only knew of one
dog that could whip a wolf. Orville Milburn had a huge Russian Wolfhound. He had
lost one eye in a fight but could still handle a wolf. I understand the time he lost
the eye, a pack got him and would have killed him if somebody hadn’t rescued him.
When a pack got together they were really dangerous. If you do see a wolf now,
they are a lot smaller than they were then.

When I got a little older, they had gotten so bad and so many that they sent a
Government trapper in our area. He caught some and others moved out. I
remember one time some wolfhounds jumped one and run him for miles. They were

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crowding him so that he cut through our horse lot. I happened to be there so I
climbed the fence again. They chased him by me real close. They “treed” him
under a stock guard on the railroad. There were three dogs after him but backed
up under there, he would have killed all three. So Knox shot him to save the dogs.
The dogs belonged to a man close to Weatherford. They had chased him that far.
I also remember going with Uncle Bill Burney and Fred one time to get a load of
wood. We had to go several miles. While they were cutting and loading the wood I
was too small to be of any help. A wolf kept staying close to us. Uncle Bill said,
“there is a den close by. Let’s try to find it.” We found it and Uncle Bill dug it out.
You got rid of all you could because of the danger to stock. While he was
digging,one pup run out and started down the hill. He said “catch him, Harold”. As I
thought what he said I should do, I caught him. He hollered to turn him loose. I
couldn’t! I knew even then to grab him back at the back of the head but as he was
dodging I just grabbed anywhere. You know how sharp a little pups teeth are?
That wolf’s were worse and he was going after me. Uncle Bill run down and pulled
him off me. He was embarrassed about it as he didn’t think I would be able to
catch him. He used to laugh at me about it until I was grown though.

SNAKES
In the last letter I was telling you about working for the man that had the
Woodhouse Ranch leased. One pasture had over 2,000 acres and another over 800
acres. I knew the place because the man that Knox worked for had it leased a few
years before. He gave me his horse to use that we called Rocking Chair because he
was so easy to ride. He had been snake bit and was very afraid of rattlesnakes.

I will give you a little background on snakes. I was raised to kill all poisonous snakes
we found. Now they say you shouldn’t do that but we had to. We killed eight
rattlesnakes in the front yard one year. Only one ever got in the house that we
knew about. Also, I had a little fox terrier dog that only weighed about eight
pounds. She would kill every one she found and she may have killed several we
didn’t even know about. She had been bit until she had built up a tolerance to the
poison and wouldn’t even swell up. She had more nerve than any dog, big or little I
ever knew.

Also big snakes that weren’t poisonous would move in. Chicken snakes and bull
snakes would catch chickens and would eat all the eggs on the place.

Bizarre Snake Tales (and Damn Lies)

(Some of Grandaddy Knox’s cronies would tell me these tales too!)
One old wives tale used to be about a snake known as the milk snake. Some people
even believed it but 99% didn’t. They were said to nurse the cows and get all the
milk.

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Another tale was about a hoop snake—you know, the one that caught his tail in his
mouth and rolled like a hoop. Some said they had a bone that stuck out of the end
of their tails and that was where they infected you with the poison. They were
supposed to straighten out just before they hit and jab you with the bone. This
was all false, of course. Another tale told was about one chasing a man down a hill.
The man saw he couldn’t outrun it so he jumped behind a tree. The snake jabbed
the bone into the tree. In just a few minutes the leaves started to fall off the
tree and in six months the tree was beginning to decay.

Another tall tale: A man coming home from town in a wagon come upon the biggest
rattler he ever saw. He couldn’t find anything to kill it with so he took the breast
yoke off the end of the tongue and beat it to death. He put the breast yoke back
on the tongue and started on home. Both his mules died from just breathing the
fumes before he reached home.

MOUNTAIN LIONS
You asked about Knox’s experience with the mountain lion. As you know, cougar,
panther, and other names are given to them, but actually the correct name is
mountain lion.

When he was going up the “trail” (the cattle trail), he was sent several miles from
the herd to look for strays. He rode up on a big cat, apparently asleep in some
heavy brush. He said he didn’t know which it scared the worst—him, his horse, or
the cat. The mountain lion went one direction and he and the horse another. The
big cats are known to love horsemeat and as he was riding a mustang, the horse
immediately panicked. He wasn’t about to get thrown off, as he thought the cat
might have turned and be chasing them. Too, it wouldn’t be safe to be afoot that
far from the herd. So over rocks, creeks, bluffs, and heavy brush they went. He
was scratched and skinned all over by the time he finally got the horse under
control again. He said they had covered at least a mile before he had control again.

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BEARS
When I was small I loved to hear some of his “tales”. As I told you before, Jim
Pickard (Little Jim), was the Trail Boss. Uncle Bill Burney also made some trips. I
really liked to get them started talking. They would tell some wild ones on each
other.

One tale Uncle Bill told was one of my favorites. He worked awhile on the XIT too.
They had a big, rough, redhead working there then. They all knew him, but Knox
wasn’t working there at the time this happened. As you know the XIT, covered
most of the panhandle, but also run across into the roughs of New Mexico.
Somebody there had brought in a bear cub found over in New Mexico and given him
the run of Headquarters when small. “Booger Red”, as he was known, would wrestle
and play with the cub when he had a spare moment. Later the cub was about half
grown and getting too rough and they were told they had to get rid of him. In the

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meantime, “Red” was sent somewhere else for about a month. They said the cub
would come to the bunk house every morning looking for his buddy. Red had a
brother that favored him a lot and he come out to visit Red while he was gone. He
heard a squall, looked around and here come the bear. He thought his buddy had
returned. They all said that was one of the best foot races they had ever had the
privilege of witnessing. Luckily, he made it to the bunkhouse and got the door shut
just as the bear hit it and almost tore it off the hinges. Of course, that bunch of
characters made no move to help the poor man. In fact, I will bet that somebody
pointed out the brother to the bear. Uncle Bill himself was capable of doing that.

Another tale I remember was about the bunkhouse itself. It was adobe. One night
they had a big rain and one side that was covered with bunks collapsed. A stream
had formed and cut under it. About seven or eight of them were dumped out into
the cold water, about two feet deep.

DOGS
I wrote before about the dogs Knox had after he moved back to the farm.
Somebody gave the shepherd to Joe Williams, Essie’s husband, who I am sure you
remember. He brought her to Knox. I tried to talk them out of keeping her as I
was afraid that being raised in town she would kill chickens. I was mistaken as she
never did. Molly could point out a chicken she wanted and the dog caught it and
held it with her front feet until Molly retrieved it. She never once hurt one.

Her name was Queen and being a rather young dog when we got her she made an
excellent country and farm dog. She was very good to mind and you could tell her
something like you would tell another person and she did it. Our cows grazed in a
wooded pasture and you couldn’t see them from the house. If they weren’t there at
milking time you told Queen to go and get the cows. She brought them in and never
made them run. After a few times the cows would see her coming and immediately
start for home. Where the fences crossed creeks, they would sometimes wash out
after a hard rain. If our cows got in a neighbor’s pasture, she would go and cut
them out from the others and bring them home. She always knew where the fence
was down and made them come back that way. Too, if a neighbor’s got in an
outpasture of ours she cut them out and took them back where they belonged. She
would see strange animals and go do this without even being told. I never knew her
to make a mistake and get the wrong animal. Too, she would watch the break in the
fences to keep it from happening again.

If you were carrying an armload of something from the house to the barn or vice
versa or anywhere else, she went along. If you dropped something and she could

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carry it, it would be there when you got there. If it was too big, she would sit by it
until you put the others down, then bark until you come back and got whatever it
was. I thought because of her being raised in town and being the breed she was
she wouldn’t be any good for hunting. I was hunting a lot then, every time I had
some spare time. The dog started going along and all of a sudden she started
treeing squirrels. She made a good hunting dog and we never had any trouble with
varmints around the house.

Eldon was real small then, just walking good. He wanted to get hold of Queen real
bad but no way would she let him get close. That is until one day he wandered out
by himself and all of a sudden there was this mad “bellering”. Eldon would start
towards the fire and Queen would get him by the seat of his pants and hold him
back. He was one mad boy but he sure didn’t get burned. I honestly can say that
Queen was the smartest dog I ever had any dealings with. She picked up all I have
told you about on her own. Nobody taught her.

Then we kept one of her pups that I named “Pluto”. He made a better hunting dog
than his mother. In fact, they would go hunting with me and Queen got to where
she trotted along by me until Pluto would bark “treed”. Then she went and took
over the “tree” and by the time I got there Pluto maybe would have something else
found. Queen would hold what he had found first for me. One problem though, if
someone else was along, Knox or myself were the only ones they allowed to touch
what they had found. They would bite anyone else. In fact, if someone else was
along they would usually pick it up and carry it to us to keep someone else from even
getting close to it.

One time Molly was at home by herself. She was out back and didn’t hear someone
knocking. It was a “Watkins” peddler. They carried all sorts of small items around
and sold them in rural areas. He said he saw the dog but she didn’t bark or even get
up. So he stepped up on the porch and when nobody answered he shook the screen
door hard thinking somebody could hear that. That was where he went wrong.
Queen thought he was breaking in. Molly did hear somebody hollering for help and
went around in front to see. His bag was busted open and his wares were scattered
all over. He had climbed a small tree that was just barely tall enough that Queen
couldn’t reach him. When he moved or the wind blew, the tree would almost bend
down within reach and he would desperately try to climb higher. All Molly had to do
was say “let him alone, Queen” and she went and lay down again. You can see we
were fond of her.

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Chickens
We always had all the chickens we wanted to eat. In the summer you always had
fried chicken for company or for Sunday dinners. Also baked hen occasionally. It
was quite a chore to catch a wild chicken, wring off his head, scald, pick, and dress
it for eating. Like butchering hogs, if the water was too hot and the feathers set,
you had a hard job getting the feathers off. If it was just right, they come off
easily. Where our chickens run out all the time, they got gravel and etc. in with
their food. In fact, it was an instinct for them to eat that type of thing. It went
into the gizzard and helped digest their food and helped the eggs. If they didn’t
get enough roughage you had to supplement it with something. If not, they would
lay soft-shelled eggs. They were hard to handle and you couldn’t sell them. To
catch a chicken we had a long stiff wire with a hook bent just right on the end. You
located the one you wanted and hooked it over a foot. In later years, they had a
German Shepherd dog that would catch them for you. You pointed out the one you
wanted. She would catch them and hold them down with her front feet for you to
pick up. I never knew of her hurting or damaging one.

After a hen lived for a time, she would “set”. It was instinct for them to raise
little chicks. If Molly wanted some little chicks she put twelve eggs in a nest for
the hen to hatch. From then on the hen did it all. She kept the eggs warm and only
left the nest to eat and go right back. You had to check them to see if another hen
might have laid a fresh egg in the nest. You would be surprised at how hard an old
mother hen would peck you to protect her nest. After the chicks hatched, she
protected them until they could forage for themselves. If you heard one squawking
loud you better check. Something was after her chicks, some animal or usually a
snake.

I mentioned snakes in the nest. If you didn’t see them first you got bit. I have
been bit but never hurt bad. But it would scare the hell out of you. The bites
weren’t bad as all of that type of snake was not poison.

Speaking of catching chickens, Jim Pickard, an old bachelor who lived a long way off
the road, let his chickens really run wild. They raised and foraged in the brush
around his house. He had been an old Trail Boss (see up the Chisholm Trail) and
could really shoot a gun. In fact, he was Knox’s boss when he went up the trail as a
boy. He would throw out some corn, and wait on the porch for some of them to
start eating. He waited until one raised their head and he would shoot it off. He
shot left-handed with a .45. I have seen him do that several times and never saw
him miss the first shot too many times. If he did, the scared chickens scattered
and he had to start all over.

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Turkeys
I had told you we always raised 30 to 50 turkeys. They were our fall money crop.
We had them ready for the Thanksgiving and Christmas market.

If I was home that was part of my job to look after them. We had to keep up with
them to protect them from all kinds of varmints, mainly wolves and snakes. I would
have to watch and try to find their nests. Believe me, they could hide them. You
wouldn’t think anything as big as a turkey could hide from you but they could. You
could be hunting a nest and pass in two or three feet of an old hen on a nest in a
patch of weeds no bigger than a tub and not see her. For one thing they would set
and not move and their coloring blended in.

The eggs were larger than chicken eggs. They were collected and set under one hen
for hatching. A chicken could peck hard to protect her eggs but not near as hard
as a turkey. You had to put your hands under to check the eggs and one could take
a chunk out of a hand or arm. If you tried to break up one from sitting on eggs it
was a job. Most everything was tried over the years but a rubber snake would work
best. In fact if they found a snake they all gathered around it and went Putt! Putt!
Putt! If you heard them going Putt! Putt! Putt! you had better check. We lost
several each year to rattlesnakes. If one got bit, they were gone.

They fed on grasshoppers and other insects. They were bad to wander off. We
often would have to go several miles and bring them home. They could cross any
fence or creek leaving but you couldn’t get them to cross anything on the way home.
They stuck their heads up in the air and that was it. A long fishing pole with a rag
on the end was about the best way to control them. If we went far after them we
went on a horse. We used the horse called Snip mostly for this as he was
dependable and didn’t get excited. But he got to where he hated turkeys and you
had to watch him or he would run into a bunch and paw them. He hated them that
bad.

In most ways turkeys were very stupid. I have seen them in a hard rain stand with
their head stuck up in the air and drown from water in their bills and nostrils.

In fact, if anything was stupider than turkeys it was sheep. On the other hand if
anything was stupider than sheep it was turkeys.

A tom turkey would weigh up to 20 pounds and an old Tom that was the flock leader
would sometimes fight you. You had your hands full if they did. But usually the
true leader was an old hen. She was usually the one that led them astray. A full-

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grown turkey was strong and hard to hold. They could beat the devil out of you
with their wings.

The reason I could compare sheep and turkeys as to brains was because one year
(and one year only) the guy that we worked for sent in over 700 sheep for us to
look after. I will tell you more about that in the next letter.

Sheep
I had told you about how dumb turkeys and sheep were. One year they shipped in
over seven hundred sheep. They were all lambs, just weaned. There was not an old
sheep in the bunch. If there had been a few older ones I think we would have had
better control of them. You need a regular sheep fence to contain them. All we
had was “four” wire fences. When they were turned out, they went all “four”
directions. They did not stay together at all. It was eleven miles to Weatherford
and nine miles to Cresson. There were sheep from Weatherford to Cresson.
However, more went south to Cresson. I guess they were southern sheep. The
fences didn’t slow them at all but it slowed anyone trying to herd them, as you had
to ride to a gate to get through. Somebody would go to a windmill and climb up to
look and see where the largest bunch were and you started with them to try to
round them up. Like turkeys they would go under a fence leaving, but no way would
they go under one coming home.

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Knox was enough of an “old timer” that he hated them with a passion. We again
used the dun horse, Snip, to try to herd them. It was beneath his dignity as he
considered himself a cow horse. It got to where he would try to paw them.

They would lie on the ground in the rain and in cold weather and freeze to the
ground. They were bad to take pneumonia. We lost a lot that way. If one got even
a cold you were in trouble. Knox was really glad to see them shipped out because
that ended the sheep business.

I will tell you of another experience I had with sheep. A man over close to Aledo
asked me if I would help them “tag sheep”. I said sure, as I had no idea what he
meant. As far as I knew then, you caught them and tied price tags or something on
them. It turned out you caught the sheep, rolled him on his back, set straddle and
trimmed the wool around their rears which was full of burrs and “sheep do”. It was
misting rain that day and their wool was all wet on top of everything else. I really
smelled “sheepish” when it was over. That was the end of my sheep career.

We used Snip to try to herd them, as the rest of the horses wouldn’t go near them
unless forced.

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