by Luke Clayton
Catfishradio.org
If this old oak could talk what stories it would have to tell. Just imagine what this old tree has witnessed since it was a seedling centuries ago on a remote hardwood ridge in east Texas.
I first met my ‘Old friend” a few years ago while scouting for a good place to set a hunting stand for deer on my friend’s property in east Texas. The meeting was certainly happenchance; I was walking a hardwood ridge with an overgrown field on one side and a gradual slope that led to bottomland on the other. This was exactly the type of terrain that big whitetail bucks like to roam, especially during the rut. My little scouting trip took place in the dead of winter and buck rubs were visible on several of the sumac saplings that grew on the field edge. Lots of red oaks had sprouted up in the field, in the fall the acorns attracted deer and wild hogs. I remember thinking the old field was probably planted in corn or cotton many years ago.
The spot looked like the perfect location for a farmstead many years ago. Standing there on that cold winter’s day, I felt a kindred spirit with the remote spot way back in the woods. It was almost as though I had been there before or that the land was hiding a secret that I was yet to learn. On closer inspection, I found a level spot with large stones and pieces of rusty metal on the ground, nearby was the remains of a shallow water well. I had most certainly wandered into the remains of what had once been the home of a family that lived in an era that would be difficult for most of us to imagine.
After spending a bit of time scouting the area, I resumed my quest for that perfect spot on the ridge to set my hunting blind. Then I met him, my new very OLD friend. At first glance I could easily tell he had been around for a long, long time. He was a bit stooped but still appeared to be strong for his age. He looked like he had a few more good years left. The ancient oak didn’t have any words of greeting to this old hunter but his mere presence said more than words can convey.
“Hello, my friend, he seemed to convey to me. Looks Like you too have been around a long time for a human. Looks like you are a hunter, probably after deer. Trust me old buddy, I have seen my share of hunters through the many years I’ve been standing here. I’ve watched Indians arrow deer while using my trunk for cover. I was standing right here when the civil war soldier that lived on the edge of the field used to use his black powder shotgun to shoot squirrels out of my branches. I am sure there are still some of his shotgun pellets in my limbs! The old Civil War veteran and his wife raised a family of 4 children in that log home he built just atop the hill, the kids used to swing from one of my lower branches. Look closely and you see a big knurl growing from my trunk. My limb has long since fallen off but it supported the youngsters swing for many years. I can almost still hear their cheerful squeals when one of the bigger boys sent a younger sibling sailing high up into my branches.”
As I stood there, listening to what the ancient oak had to tell me, I was brought back into the present at the sight of a buck crossing through the old field. Yes, this would be a great spot to set up my hunting stand. I would later need a stout branch to hang my corn feeder. I wondered if my new friend, the old oak, would mind. Probably not, he might just enjoy watching a modern-day hunter with modern hunting tools attempt to harvest game. I’m not sure how he will feel about the electrical timer on my feeder that I will set to throw corn just after daylight each morning. The old oak might need his rest and be a late sleeper! He might just get a good laugh at some of the equipment I used such as a range finder and bows and rifles that would have seemed unworldly to some of the hunters he had watched in centuries past. Should I kill a buck or hog from the stand, he will surely be amazed at the sight of me driving up in a little electric buggy with a bed on the back to haul my game out of the woods. The old-time hunters would have either packed their game out on their back or hitched a mule or horse to a sled and pulled it out.
The old oak seems to have a few more years to stand sentinel over the hardwood ridge. I hope to join him for a few more hunting seasons, maybe ten or even fifteen if I am lucky. I’m sure to my old friend this will seem like a blink of an eye or in his case the falling of a leaf. Yep, there is a great deal to learn from these ancient ones of the forest. Maybe you might want to find such a friend next time you are out in the woods. Stop and spend some time listening to what he has to say.
