By Joe Mayfield
My ancestors were hunters and trappers going back to 1693, therefore it is easy to understand why all the men in the family have always had a strong desire to have well trained hunting dogs. A good hunting dog is treated differently than a house dog, hunting dogs are not pets, they have an intended purpose and the purpose, of course, is to supply game for the table, be it rabbit, squirrel, quail or deer, the most common game in Alabama.
Growing up, my cousins and I hunted together whenever we could, and the holidays seemed to always bring us to our Grandparents. Pa Mayfield always had the best rabbit dogs around, and on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years there would be five or six of us in the woods hunting, and enjoying the fellowship of being together, celebrating the holiday, and the big meal that would follow the hunt.
One cousin, Carl Washington died June 19th, 2004, lived in West Point, AL, (West of Cullman) while growing up, and although a few years older than I, we both enjoyed hunting as a team along with our Granddad. Junior, as he was always called in the family, had a way with dogs, but he now hunts where the game will always be plentiful, and no longer feels the pain in his chest. I want to tell you about my cousin, and my friend, I must tell you how much he will be missed. I find consolation in knowing he is looking down from Heaven, wearing that smile he always had, saying, Joe, you’ll love it here, its better than the preachers said it would be, and I’ve already seen Pa, its great. I can picture that in my mind.
Junior had a heart as big as the sky, and his Pastor told everyone in the church Monday, June 21st, 2004, about the time a friend and neighbor had come by his house to ask if he, the neighbor, could borrow Juniors squirrel dog to go hunting. This would be a very unusual request.
Hunters know that should they want to go hunting, and do not have their own dog, then you should ask the dog owner, Could we get together and go hunting sometime? One never asks another man to borrow their dog. As the Pastor, Greg Standridge, continued with the story, I could see Juniors wife, Barbara nodding her head knowing what was coming next. The Pastor tells how Junior is just too good hearted to say no, and off the neighbor goes with the squirrel dog.
Now most people in Alabama know that when hunting for squirrel you always go where the deep hollows are, the squirrel likes to stay in the trees where the wind can’t get to them. The trees will grow all the way from the bottom of the gorge, and if the gorges are one hundred feet deep, then some of the trees will be one hundred feet tall or taller as they grow to continue to get more sun light, and when this occurs some tree tops may even be taller than the mountain tops on each side of the gorge.
The neighbor had driven to one of these mountain tops and stopped his truck to get the dog out. At some point the dog saw a squirrel running across the mountain, and gave chase. As the dog was closing the distance, the squirrel suddenly leaped for a tree, however, the tree was growing from the bottom of a very deep gorge and the squirrel had jumped straight into the tree top. Since the dog was very close, he too jumped for the tree, and fell all the way to the bottom of the bluff, which is where the tree was growing from.
As the Pastor continued to tell the story, everyone tried to remain quite, wishing to remain respectful, but everyone appeared to look over at Barbara, Juniors wife, and saw she was nodding her head, as though to say, Yep, that’s what happened alright, People then started to laugh, softly at first, but then it became louder, and louder. Bro. Standridge went on to tell everyone that the dog did survive, and was well, after a long stay with the Veterinary.
Later while at the grave site, someone walked up to Barbara and ask if the story the Pastor had told was true. Her response, It sure was.
It is my hope that the story told by the Pastor brought a smile to your face because this has been the hardest story I have ever written, especially since I was told two months ago he had cancer, and didn’t drive the short distance to Decatur to spend time with him. I know he would’ve liked that, and recall the squirrel hunting on the Old Railroad Bed, with James, David, Pa and myself. Perhaps it was having been to so many funerals, that was sixty one, I just didn’t want to face it. I’m sorry for that now, and now its too late. I’ll miss you JR.
Published U.S. Legacies March 2006
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