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Union County, Ohio
History & Genealogy

Source:
HISTORY of JEROME TOWNSHIP, UNION COUNTY, OHIO
Curry, W. L. : Columbus, Ohio: Press of the E. T. Miller Co.
1913

HUNTING & TRAPPING

     All kinds of small game was plentiful in this vicinity until the breaking out of the Civil War.  It was common amusement to go out in the nearby woods on almost any farm and kill a "mess" of squirrels before breakfast or after supper in the summer season. When corn was planted the squirrels and chipmunks would commence digging it up near the side of the fields next to the woods and it was then the duty of the boys to "go the rounds" of the fields two or three times a day hammering on the fences with clubs and shouting to scare the game away, and some of the older men of today have devoted many an hour to this duty, skipping over the clods in bare feet and stubbing toes on stones or stumps.  When roasting ears were in season the raccoons were very destructive and when the corn ripened wild turkeys visited the fields in great droves to get their share of the farmers' corn before it was husked.  Every farmer had at least one deer or squirrel rifle, and hunting was not only great sport but was profitable as well.  At least two hunting dogs were kept by each family and usually one was a "coon dog" or hound, and they were always anxious for the chase.  In the late autumn months was the busy time for coon hunting with dogs as soon as the fur was good.  Early in the evening the boys would start out with their torches of hickory bark, dogs whining, skipping and playing, happy in anticipation of the night's sport.  A hound was not considered the best coon dog, as he barked on the track, warning the game, and it would have time to find a large tree, but a cur dog would follow the trail so quietly that he would be on the game, unawares, thereby compelling it to seek and climb the first tree.  Both guns and axes were carried and when the coon was "treed" if he could not find a hole in which to hide and it was moonlight he could often be shot, otherwise the tree must be felled.  The coon is pretty shrewd, and if not pushed too hard usually found a large tree.  If the tree was large and the game could not be seen to get a shot, coats were doffed in a jiffy and the chips were soon flying, the hunters taking turns at chopping.  No tree was too large to tackle and sometimes they were the largest white oaks, which at this time, if sawed into finishing lumber, would be valued at a hundred dollars or more.  The hunters seldom requested permission of the land owner to cut a tree, for it it was a good rail tree he would split it into rails, if no he did not care for it.  When the tree was about ready to fall the boys, with clubs, and the dogs anxious for the fight, would form a circle in the woods out of danger in the direction the tree was to fall, ready for the chase.  The coon would usually jump as the tree commenced falling, and when he was spied a grand rush would be made and the dogs would soon have him.  A coon is a hard fighter and when tackled by a dog he turns on his back and fights with both teeth and claws.  A dog not accustomed to such fighting is knocked out in the first round, but the old hunting dog gets him by the throat and never releases his hold until the game is dead.  As coonskins were only worth from fifty to seventy-five cents each, hunting was not very profitable where this investment was divided between three or four boys, but the fun and excitement compensated fully for the financial shortage.  In the northwest part of the township there was a great forest called the "Galloway Woods," owned by non-residents, uninhabited and uncultivated before the Civil War.  This woods was full of wild game, deer, wild turkeys, raccoons, foxes, minks, and squirrels.  At times hunters from a distance would come with a pack of hounds and start the deer, while the hunters would follow on horseback.  Many times some of us who survive can recall the baying of hounds, and if coming in our direction how we watched for the deer of they bounded through the woods with the pack close in pursuit, taking up the cry of the leader of the pack as they followed in a straight row eagerly chasing the timid frightened animals.  It was very exciting; and then came the hunters, guns over their shoulders, and horses on the gallop.  Such a scene with the sweet music of the hounds impressed a boy so intensely that it is just as vivid as of yesterday, although three score years have passed.  Wild turkeys were still to be found in droves of twenty-five or upwards, fifty years ago.  Hunters would follow them carefully during the daytime, getting a shot now and then.  About sundown the turkeys would begin to go to roost by flying into the branches of tall trees.  The good hunter who understood the game would then, after marking carefully the location, leave the flock.  If it was moonlight he would return at midnight or later when the moon was high, and bring down a few turkeys by shots from his trusty rifle, by getting the range so that the turkeys would be seen against the moon.  Rifles were all muzzle loaders and the ramrod would extend to the end of the gun barrel.  To the end of the ramrod the hunter would attach a glove or mitten so that it hung down three or four inches below the gun barrel when the gun was sighted, then the aim must be so the mitten or glove would drop just below the form of the turkey looking toward the moon, and fire.  John Curry, who was the most noted and successful hunter in the vicinity, seldom missed a shot.  As I go back in memory I can see him now mounted on his chestnut sorrel hunting horse, "Alex," as he dashed through my father's sugar camp in front of our home at full speed, leaning forward with rifle over his shoulder, on his way to the Galloway Woods on many a winter afternoon.  About dusk he would return slowly with one of two large wild turkeys hanging from the pommell of his saddle.  He had a great coon dog, "Old Ben," who was sure of his game and never failed treeing a few raccoons and opossums every night he had the opportunity to "take the trail."  Ben was the envy of every hunter and hunting dog in the neighborhood.  Among the other noted hunters may be named Sardius Ward, David McCune, the Hensils, and, in fact, the boys in almost every family.  In the days before the Civil War the hunting and shooting was al with rifles.  A man or boy with a shotgun was ridiculed, as a boy fifteen or sixteen years of age was a good shot and cold bring down a squirrel from the tallest oak tree with a rifle.  Three was a great deal of trapping of raccoon, minks, and other small game.  Quails were caught in traps, a whole covey at once, and wild turkey were caught by building rail pens and tapering the pen off at the top, only leaving a small opening through which the turkey would fly down to the corn scattered inside the pen.  Once inside the pen it was not possible to fly straight up to the escape and they were then easily caught by the trapper.  As their were no game laws in those days game of al kinds was shot any time in the year.  When the township was first settled bear and wolves were plentiful and wolves' scalps brought $4 each after the county was organized.  Colonel James Curry was a member of the legislature, representing the counties of Madison and Delaware in 1820, when the bill was passed for the erection of Union County, so called, as it was from territory of Franklin, Madison and Delaware, therefore a union of counties.  Hon. Job Rennick, a prominent citizen of Chillicothe, represented Ross County, and after the bill was passed he remarked to Colonel Curry facetiously that "he now had a county and all it was fit for was wolf traps."  Could these grand old men who first settled the county and, by the labor and hardship they endured, blazed the way for civilization, visit Jerome Township with its fine macadamized roads, telephones and automobiles, what a revelation it would be to them.
     The last bear killed in Jerome Township was on the farm of James Buck, afterward owned by Perry Buck, and near the banks of Sugar Run.  A wounded bear had been chased into the neighborhood by dogs and finally came to bay.  A number of dogs were gathered up among the settlers and a great fight was soon in progress.  Among the dogs were two or three bear dogs and they knew how to tackle the game by running in behind the bear and snapping at the heals and would then be out of reach before the bear could turn, keeping up this method of attack until the bear was completely tired out, and then the dogs could closed in on him.  In this pack of dogs two or three were not accustomed to bear-fighting and would rush in front of the animal and one stroke of his great paw would put them out of the fight.  In this scrimmage one or two dogs were killed.
     Mr. James Buck, who was working in a corn field near, had his hoe in hand during the battle.  He became very much incensed at teh rough usage of the dogs by the bear and signified his intention of attacking the bear in front with his hoe, but was warned by James Curry, who was an old bear hunter, that he had better keep off at a good distance, as the bear, although wounded, had good use of his forepaws and one stroke would be sufficient to put him out of the fight for good.  After the dogs had fought for some time, and to the satisfaction of the onlookers as well, the animal was dispatched by a rifle shot.  While the exact date is not known, it was soon after the war of 1812, and some of us have been shown the spot on a little hillside on the east bank of Sugar Run.
     Fox hunting was great sport and very exciting when the hunters were mounted.  On the day set the hunters would assemble at a time and place agreed upon with all hounds and hunting dogs that could be brought together in the neighborhood.  Some of the old hunters would take the advance with the best dog and beat the brush in some locality where the game was likely to be sprung.  If there was snow on the ground and it was oft and melting a track was soon struck and would often be followed by sight some distance until the scent would become warm before the dogs were allowed to take the trail.  When they did start and were baying on the track it was sweet music to the hunters' ears and they were all off on a gallop, following the hounds through brush, over logs, streams and fences, in a wild race which frequently continued for hours.  In some instances the fox would double on the track, dodge the pack, and run through the fields or pastures where there were sheep or cattle and by the time the trail was again found the game would be a mile or two away, heading for the Scioto River or Darby Creek, and often reaching a place of safety in a hole among the rocks.  It was great sport and dangerous as well, leaping fences or ditches, but a few bruises were just a part of the game and were not taken into consideration by the hunter if he could only, by a wild and reckless ride, be in at the death.  Some of the men who yet survive and have reached the milestone of three score and ten, can feel the flush of youth yet come to their cheeks as they go back in memory to the days when they followed the hounds more than half a century ago.
     In addition to the fox hunt, there was same horse racing without the hounds.  There were no trotting races, as that kind of sport was too tame for the boys of those days.  The racing was just for sport and there was little betting.  There was one track at Plain City, but on the Jerome Township side of the line running north, just west of where the flouring mill now stands.  Another track was down on the bottom land near the creek, and just opposite and below the farms of Uncle Zack Noteman and Uncle Levi Taylor. 
     On the Fourth of July or Saturday afternoons during the summer and fall months, the clans gathered for the sport and some swift runners were usually on the ground with their backers.  The distance was usually a quarter or half-mile dash.  The jockeying for advantage in the "go" was often long and sharply contested and at times resulted in a clash at the finish between the backers of the rival horses.
     On the Post Road toward Dublin, near the Tavern of Uncle Steve Lattimer, was another favorite race track.  Here would gather the horsemen from Dublin, Pleasant Valley, and West Jefferson, frequently for an afternoon outing.  The races would be fast and furious until toward evening, and usually the day's amusement would up with an exhibition not on the program, participated in by such actors as Hen Davis, of Dublin, Abe Garabrant and Tom Gregg, of Jefferson, and sometimes the Lattimers and Kilburys would take a hand just as peacemakers.  When the racing was subsiding and the arguments commenced, we boys would climb to the top of the stake and rider fence to see the fun, as we could get a better view of the performance, and to another reason it was safer.
     In those days the actors were not governed strictly by Queensbury rules; neither did they wear three-ounce gloves, and the rounds were not limited in number, although there was usually but one.  That was in ante-bellum days, and after the Civil War Thompson Kilbury fitted up a fine circle half-mile track on his farm, where the horsemen had some very interesting meets.
     There were some fine bred running horses in the community, among which the Printer and Lexington stock were the favorites.  Running races was the great sport of that period and it was very fascinating.  Compared with the baseball and football of the present day, there are nine points out of ten in favor of the race horse.
     A boy must indulge in some kind of exciting exercise, and breaking colts or riding wild horses was the favorite sport of the country boy fifty years ago.  When a farmer boy arrived at the age of 16 or 17, he was given a colt by his father, and was next given a new saddle and bridle.  He was as proud of his outfit as the boy of today who has a rubber-tired buggy or an automobile.
     There were many races along the soft, smooth dirt roads by these boys going and returning from town in the evenings, just for the fun and excitement and with no thought of betting.  Among them were riders that would make a cowboy riding a bucking broncho green with envy.  The racing on the Kilbury track, after the close of the Civil War, was conducted in a very quiet manner.  No rowdying was allowed, and it was interesting, clean sport.  At this time, the Cone boys, who had some fine horses, took an interest in this port, as did the Careys, Taylors, Millikins, McCanns, and Converses around Plain City all of whom were great horse fanciers, as were their fathers before them.

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