Now, most of y’all don’t know me, but my name is Cy and I am an old man. I jess hope the good Lord lets me get a little older a-fore he calls to them golden meadows in the sky. See, when I was a youngster, I headed into to the back country to learn to trap and to make my fortune. I move away from other people ‘cause I am more or less a loner. While I did learn ‘bout them furs, you know, I never did make that fortune. Or, did I?
I may be fairly short on greenbacks, but let me tell ya, I am a rich man in mem-rees. I’ve lived a life that most of y’all would envy and some of ye would be scared of. I have fit wolves, bears, wolverines, and even a wife ‘er three, but I would do ‘er all oveh again in a heartbeat. Why? With all of this heah jabberin’ I jess ‘membered a time, way back when I furst come to the shinnin’ mountains and a huntin’ trip I played the fool on, or twas it the other way ‘round.
I was a young man then, mayhap fifteen years old and my body was better worked than my brain. Oh, I was smart ‘nough, but I had a heap a learnin’ to do yet. My hunting partners, Teacher and Zee, took me under their wings and taught me things that would keep a feller alive in them mountains. Times was hard, but them two old men had the hair of the bear on ‘em and as y’all know, that means they was tough men.
One cold night in December, if-un I ‘members right, them two fellers dee-cided we was a-gonna go on a snipe hunt. Waugh, how did I know they was fixin’ me up fer a tease! I found out later on in life there is a snipe bird, but they fer shore don’t live in the Rocky Mountains . Any who, they give me this big buckskin bag, took me out in the dark cold night, and put me on a less than slightly used critter trail.
“Son, no matter how cold ya get, or how tired you are, stay heah and wait fer me and Teacher to drive them birds to ya. I ‘spect they’ll come right down this heah trail fast like and all ya gotta do is scoop ‘em up in that bag.” Zee instructed as he filled his old briar pipe with tobacco.
“What do these heah birds look like? Do they make a sound as they move? And, why don’t they fly ‘way from y’all if-un yer a-gonna scared ‘em?” I asked in my innocence as I assumed the bent over posture Zee had indicated I had to use to catch the fast little critters.
“They is small son, ‘bout the size of a quail. They’ll not make a sound as they come, so ya gotta pays attention all the time. Plus they cain’t fly, but they do run fast.” Was Zee’s answer and I still ‘member the serious look on his face as he spoke in the pale moonlight.
“Got it, Zee. You can ‘pend on me to get ‘em if-un they comes this a-ways.”
“Good, now I gotta go and get Teacher so we can start a-drivin’ them birds towards ya.”
Well, I wasn’t the smartest man in the mountains, but after five hours I started to think I had been had. A light snow started to fall and the temperature dropped to the point even the grizzly bears was a-thinkin’ ‘bout a-puttin’ on coats. I kept a-thinkin’ bout a cup of hot coffee and finally gave up the waiting game. Now, mountain men don’t give up easy, but I figured five hours was long ‘nough and in that time Zee or Teacher should have walked up to me, if-un they was a-drivin’ them birds towards me like. So, I started back to the campfire, with a sore back I might add from bein’ bent over fer so long.
