1946 – A Slough of Trouble
(Written 2-1-2001)
From our house in Old Ocean, Texas it was maybe a bit more than a fourth to “The Thicket” which was a jungle-like swampy area infested with poisonous snakes, spiders, chameleons and other wildlife,–including an occasional bobcat or a javelina. The trees hung heavy with mistletoe and long strands of Spanish moss. We carried a machete with us to make the going easier, and often one of us carried a .22 rifle. David Brown (Pop’s younger brother) carried a bayonet most of the time, throwing the point into the ground. He was good at doing that. One day as approached the thicket he threw the knife and cut a copper head in two. I still shudder as I think about the two parts of that snake writhing separately on the ground.
Occasionally we would catch chameleons in the woods and take them home to catch flies, mosquitoes, ants and other insects. The technique was to tie a little string around them so that they couldn’t get away. The other end of the string was tied to a bed post or something. Mother never complained about the stakeouts. In fact, I think she actually got a kick out of it, though she was visibly squeamish about having them around. It was interesting to watch the chameleons change color, from their natural green to brown or black. Sometimes they would shed a part of their tail, which grew back in a few days.
For our personal entertainment, near those woods and next to the dump were two canals, compliments of the nearby oil refinery. The small canal was probably 20 or 30 feet across. The larger one was more like a hundred yards wide, or more. That was our main goal, for in it were some pretty big catfish. We strung a trotline across that canal with big hooks on individual strings tied several feet apart onto the main, larger line. I was usually not along when they ran the trotline, but with a rowboat we could check the line for the the daily catch. Usually the catch was quite meager. Running the line was done very carefully, for sometimes there was an alligator gar on a hook, or a big water moccasin with maws and fangs like the claws on a Lorain crane. In such instances, we cut that hook from the line, just letting them have their freedom. Too scary to play with!
For bait, we caught small perch from an earthen dam on the smaller canal. It was common to see the head of a turtle stick up out of the water. The shells of those turtles were usually about six or eight inches across, but we saw only the heads unless we found one crawling somewhere on the ground. Also, many water snakes swam there with only their heads showing, plus a wake of their bodies. Like a miniature Loch Ness Monster! All summer long Bobby and I fished for bait side by side, about ten feet apart in that small canal. We used the same kinds of pole, hook, line, sinker and bait. We fished at the same depth and maybe even used the same embouchure. Bobby usually caught plenty of perch for bait on the trot line. All summer long I caught only three perch. In all my life I have probably caught a total of half a dozen fish, none big enough to keep. Bobby could have skipped all his later years in college and supported his family well just by selling his surplus fish. To this day he retains a definite talent there.
There was a fairly narrow hump of land between the two canals with a sort of makeshift pathway on top. From there one could see a long way, for the terrain all around was flat, with woods on both sides of the water. Sometimes I took my BB gun and went there alone. I shot at everything imaginable: weeds, sticks, insects, leaves floating in the water, or snakes wherever they might be. There were countless mosquitoes and many colors of dragonflies all over the place. And red ants. Almost all my shooting was done from the hip. I was a dead shot from the hip. One day I shot at dragon flies and killed well over two hundred as they hovered in the air.
Another day, for no particular reason, I took the .22 rifle out there. Again, I was by myself. I shot at many things that day. Most memorable was a target floating about 200 feet away in the big canal. It was an alligator about eight feet long. Every time I hit him the bullet ricocheted off, whining into the woods across the way. Finally he tired of it and submerged. There was nothing interesting to shoot at anymore, so I headed toward home. On the way, I crossed the dump. A Negro man and his young son were scavenging there for treasures or just anything useful. The man asked me what I was shooting at. “An alligator,” I said. Without another word, and to my great surprise, the man was truly frightened! Immediately, he and his son got into their old truck and made fast tracks out of there! That was one really scared man! I thought to myself, “Well. He must think that they really are alligator bait!” I had never put any stock in the saying before. I just thought it was another derogatory phrase some people used rather than saying “nigger,” just as one of them might call a low-life white guy “po’ white trash.” Well, I wasn’t ever much into name calling. To me people, for the most part, are just people, as you can see from a lot of other stories I pass on. In those days, though, to me a nigger was just a nigger, with nothing else implied. Eventually this term elevated to Negro, and later to Blacks. In later years I was glad to know people from over a hundred countries. One of my dearest thoughts in my adult life is: “…and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea.” To me, that’s the REAL America. As I see it, that’s the real goal in being American. I believe in that with all my heart.
Please forgive me, for I have digressed…
On the far side of the big canal was a swimming hole that the older boys used to frequent. They had a diving board that was probably a 2 x 12 secured under part of a tree or stump. One of my brothers once told me about an incident at the swimming hole. A boy walked out to the end of the board and was about to dive in when he looked below and saw an eight foot alligator resting in the shadow of the board. The boy very cautiously made his way off the board and back onto the bank. The boys then rowed back across the canal, went home, and never swam in those waters again.
Another event I was not in on, but was very impressed by was a nocturnal visit to a large slough on the far side of the big canal. The water there was surrounded by very large trees with long, hanging Spanish moss hanging down. Many trees spread out over the slough. Lots of trees on the bank lay on the ground rotting, and perhaps even some in the water. If I remember right, Bobby, Jimmy, David Brown and one other were there. I don’t remember which one told me what happened that night; but, this is as I recall it: They rowed across the canal and up stream several hundred yards to this slough. The purpose of the trip might have been to gig for frogs or to kill a little alligator, or was just another adventure. I really don’t know. The slough was perhaps a hundred feet across, with an island in the middle. The object was to land on the island to do whatever they went there to do. To enter the slough they had to go through a narrow straight. Once in, they had rough rowing. There were quite a few logs rotting in the water. When the moon came out from behind a cloud they saw that the island was covered with and the banks were lined with countless alligators. Then, realizing that the logs they had been pushing aside with their oars were actually alligators, they performed a Biblical feat, copying the example of Joseph of old; they got themselves out.
The attraction of the canals seems to have waned a bit from that time on. Soon after that we moved to West Columbia.