by John Jefferson
My friend and colleague, Chester Moore, editor of Texas Fish and Game magazine, wrote a recent column about dangers encountered in the wilds. He included the usual suspects: wild hogs, rattlesnakes, cougars and bears. I would add copperheads.
Our scout troop pioneered a new camp deep in the east Texas Piney Woods in the Big Thicket. It was primitive — wild and untamed. We camped there often and lost count of the copperheads we encountered. No one was ever bitten, but one scout came “embarrassingly” close. Those pesky moccasins are hard to spot in pine needles.
Moore said humans were the greatest threat. I believe him. The Big Thicket was legendary for harboring criminals. Fugitives hiding from the law retreated into the thicket on unpaved, red-clay roads and virtually disappeared. Lawmen shunned venturing into the vast, dark timber to look for them. It was rumored that Bonnie and Clyde even hid there. Sightings of “wild men” were common.
One dark, foggy morning, a ranch hand dropped me off at a deer blind on a huge ranch west of Cotulla in South Texas. The fog lifted enough to make out a spooky-looking tree with bare branches resembling witch’s fingers out of a horror movie. Then, I detected movement at the far end of the pasture. My binoculars proved it wasn’t deer.
It was a group of foreign “exchange students” wearing backpacks. I studied them…as they studied me. Through the fog, I counted ten or 11. After what seemed like ten minutes, they began walking down the fence line…TOWARD me. I whispered a soft prayer and reached for my rifle. Some groups had been reportedly escorted by “tour guides” toting automatic weapons. Their “sponsors” seemed protective of their luggage.
They walked by me on the other side of the pasture cross-fence. One young hiker even smiled as they proceeded. I lost sight of them as they passed by a shuttered window. As they appeared on the other side, I re-counted them. Were there 10 or 11? I listened to see if anyone had climbed the fence. Fortunately, it ended uneventfully, though unnervingly.
Another time, after hunting all morning in mountainous terrain, my companion and I heard voices in the valley. We trudged toward the sound. Three hunters were climbing a gate to a parked sedan. It was getting hot and we were hungry. We asked if we could hitch a ride. They muttered something about having to return their uncle’s old car, and left.
We later described them to the rancher. He said we were the only hunters in that area, but he thought he knew the guys…and that we were lucky.
That evening, a woman returning at dark from hunting saw an old sedan that trained a spotlight on her as she crossed a pasture. Realizing the danger, she screamed and hit the ground.
One never knows the dangers the wilderness holds. As wonderful as it is, you must be vigilant.
JJ
