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Goats in the yard chickens in the house!!!

Updated on April 30, 2011

"Mr. Slim" (the man my daddy was)

My father was raised In North Carolina his family was of course farmers and well..moonshiners..My dad went as far in school as they had, 7 grades..He was quite tall and lanky 6'4 ,weighed about 190 lbs, he was so thin everyone called him slim.He was the dog whisperer before there ever was such a thing. People came from all the neighboring counties and states to get a bird-dog pup trained by "Mr. Slim". I recall on numerous occasions people came from Tennessee, and other states to go Hog hunting with him, and to buy a Catch dog or trail dog from him. He "fetched" a good price for any pup he sold, and if trained by him well he could set his price just on his name.

I recall one year a pretty high ranking state politician brought a pointer pup for him to train, and have it ready for him to pick up in fall for bird season. When the Official came to collect his dog , My father said "I killed it " ..I thought the gentleman would faint..Daddy explained as how" the dog was worthless not worth feeding, and he couldn't be allowed to ruin the other dogs on a hunt." The gentleman said "what will I do for a dog Slim" to which daddy replied " I got a fine one right here, 1500.00 dollars I don't want to part with it but since you ain't got one I will sell it to you." He counted out the money, and returned many times over the years to buy another though he never bought one elsewhere, and dropped it off for daddy to train ,

Daddy could get a horse to do anything as well. When people couldn't catch one of their own horses they'd send for "Mr. Slim" , and he would walk right on up to it put the bits in their mouth, and lead'm around like they were his own horse.

If it was an animal he could train it. He had a knack for it. I had 5 brothers, and one sister out of us children when someone would call him to get him to come take a dog he might like for hog hunting as they could no longer handle it, I was the one he took to approach most of the ones he would find chained.I cannot imagine why looking back on it. But I always went with him, and always without incident we would return home with the dog.

I don't think My father ever dined where linen was used.He was as country as they come.Always wore plaid double pocket shirts with "cowboy snaps" and a "John Wayne" kerchief around his neck,When he passed away we buried him in a suit the grandchildren got together, and put one of his kerchief's on him at the viewing as they said he shouldn't want to be without it even if he was dead.

He was so country he refused to plow the garden any other way then with a mule and hand tiller. We always had a grand garden I assure you. I am riding the bus home from school as a teenager ,and it was bad enough to have all my peers see him tilling the garden w/ a mule when the whole world had tractors etc., but this particular day even I am shocked at the sight in my yard there are several Goats of all sizes tied to the front row fence, which had wild roses growing in abundance on the fence row. I asked my father why the goats were chained to the fence,he said the rose vine was so thick you couldn't get in there to cut it,and the goats would eat it soon enough.I said gee.. did ya have to chain them..of course he did " they'd eat any thing else you tethered them with." (I of course was referring to the embarrassment of the goats being tied in the front yard!)

My daddy was a hard man, and quite cold you weren't certain he had a heart, and we often wondered what momma stayed with him for. One evening he had been hog hunting with Mutt and Jeff his prize hog dogs I ran to greet him for those were my favorites having raised them both from birth, but Mutt didn't come back as he put the other dogs away he sent me in for lanterns and flashlights he and I went back to the woods, and walked probably 4 miles deep in a thicket.. he brought me because he knew Mutt would let me know where he was, and he did bay till we reached him though I cannot say how daddy had brought a blanket, and wrapped around Mutts mid section as the hog had sliced him open and his intestines were lying on the ground.Daddy carried that dog like a newborn baby the only time I ever saw tears come from his eyes in my life. We went to the vets where the doctor refused to sew him up, said he would put him to sleep,but daddy pulled out a little pistol, and the vet sewed him up with over 200 stitches . Mutt had saved daddy's life that day as the wild boar turned on daddy Mutt lived many years longer and even hunted again the next season, and of course his pups were worth as much as my daddy's name!

My mother was as capable of training animals as my father, she had a chicken she called Henrietta when Henrietta got ready to lay she would come cluck at the back door momma would let her in and she would march to the hall closet to lay her eggs,and soon enough she would walk her brood out the back not to return until she was gonna set eggs again.Once daddy brought home a wild pig momma put it in with a litter of birddog pups, and yes he ran with the pups chasing rabbits, and pointing birds!! She also had a small shepherd looking mutt that happened up she could get him to do all kind of things like chase us down, and hold us by our foot so momma could switch us we really hated that dog..


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    • jorja kick profile imageAUTHOR

      jorja kick 

      7 years ago from southeast georgia

      thanks for reading

      and the comment jorja

    • RichardCMckeown profile image


      7 years ago

      Brilliant story,

    • jorja kick profile imageAUTHOR

      jorja kick 

      7 years ago from southeast georgia

      thanks i appreciate you reading it and the comment thanks again


    • WillStarr profile image


      7 years ago from Phoenix, Arizona

      Reminds me of my wonderful Kentucky days, where I met the kind of men your daddy was.

      Wonderful story, jorja. Up and awesome.


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