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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