The Troop

by Gayne C Young

“Stay where you are,” Bill urged. “Y’all are in a good place. You’ve got food or the means to get food. You’ve got water. You’ve got shelter. Most importantly, you’re isolated. You’re away from those that will do you harm. I know that’s hard to hear at y’all’s age, but not everyone out there is looking to do a good turn daily.”

  “We all chuckled at Bill’s referencing the Boy Scout slogan as we kept our eyes focused on the radio speaker.

  “Just stay where you are and do your best,” Bill continued. “The world as we know it fell apart but there’s plenty of people working hard at putting it back together again.”

  67

  “They don’t get much bigger than this!” Carl bragged holding up the five-and-a-half-foot rattlesnake he’d returned to camp with. He, Jack, and Matt had gone out hunting near the edge of the woods past the dam early that morning and returned with two cottontails and Carl’s snake.

  “Carl!” Dad almost screamed upon seeing the massive serpent in Carl’s hands.

  Carl held out his hand in a stop motion and said, “I cut off his head and buried it under some rocks.”

  “Well that’s a start,” Dad sighed in relief.

  Everyone gathered around Carl there in the living room eager to hear his story.

  “Let’s hear it snake hunter,” Dad almost laughed. “Can’t believe you brought a rattler back here.”

  Johnny suddenly poked me in the ribs and laughed. “Seeing that snake give you the willies after your close encounter?”

  “Kind of,” I admitted.

  “I was putting the stalk on a rabbit,” Carl began. “I like, hugged the tree line of this wide spot in the cedar breaks and I was watching the rabbit feed the whole time and every time his head went down, I’d ease forward a little bit. I’m almost to where I feel comfortable taking a shot at the rabbit and I look down and see this monster snake slithering out of a hole beneath a big cedar tree and I think, I might as well try and I hit him smack dab in the middle of the head!”

  “Yeah, he didn’t like that!” Jack cackled. “Matt and I got there and the snake was like coiled around the arrow. He was pissed.”

  “We watched him writhe around a while,” Carl continued. “But I mean I knew he was already dead. He had an arrow pinning his head to the ground. So we watched his muscles twitch for a while then I cut off his head and put it under some rocks using the arrow to hold him.”

  “You didn’t touch his head?” Dad asked apparently worried.

  “Nope,” Carl replied. “I used another stick to get his head off the arrow.”

  “Because even if he didn’t bite you,” Dad continued. “If you got any of that poison on your skin…”

  “I didn’t,” Carl promised.

  “He didn’t,” Matt reiterated.

  “So, what’s your plan now?” Dad asked.

  “Eat him,” Carl said. “Then tan his skin for a headband.”

  “A headband!” Johnny exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” Carl agreed. “Until my hair grows into dreadlocks then I’ll use it as a ponytail holder.”

  Dad and Johnny laughed and most of us followed suit.

  “You and your dreadlocks,” Dad scoffed. “Have fun with that.”

  Carl carefully skinned the snake under Johnny’s watchful eye. Despite it being his first time to skin one, Carl did a great job and barely got any holes in the skin.

  Later, Carl cut the snake into chunks and gave everybody a good-sized piece. We cooked the meat on skewers over the fire until it looked done.

  Andrew bit into a piece then held his jaw as if he broken it. “It’s got a bones!” he whimpered.”

  “Most everything has bones,” Liam barked.

  “Why are you eating bones?” Johnny laughed.

  Andrew scrunched his shoulders and said, “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t eat the bones in chicken or ribs,” Johnny continued laughing.

  “I was about to do the same,” Matt admitted. “Andrew, I’m glad you bit into your snake first!”

  “How do you eat snake?” Carl asked.

  Johnny pulled his skewer back from over the fire then blew on it to cool it. He peeled the meat from the wrist size rib cage and popped it in his mouth. “Now that’s some good snake,” Johnny laughed tearing off another bike.

  “It is,” Dad admitted. “But let’s not make a habit of shooting snakes. They’re just too dangerous.”

  68

  “Do you have any ideas on how to tan this thing?” Carl asked holding out his rattler skin to Johnny.

  Johnny took the skin and looked it over. “You scraped him really good.”

  “I pretty much got everything off of him,” Carl said. “Should I just tack him out on a flat surface or something.”

  “If you do that, he’ll get real stiff. Like cardboard stiff,” Johnny offered handing the skin back to Carl. “You wouldn’t be able to tie around your head if you did that.”

  “Or your dreadlocks,” Liam chuckled. “If you can grow them that is.”

  “Hey Liam,” I interrupted.

  “What?” Liam let out before giggling, “No. No. No. I’m not gonna fall for that one again. Not now. Not ever again.”

  “We’ll see, Liam,” I laughed. “We’ll see.”

  “To get him soft you’ll have to break down any bacteria on the skin,” Dad said. “Taxidermist use specialize chemicals for that.”

  “Do we have any of those?” Carl asked.

  “You do!” Johnny laughed. “We all do.”

  “I don’t get it,” Carl admitted. “What’cha mean? And why is that funny?”

  “Urine my good sir,” Johnny laughed. “You have to use urine.”

  “Are you serious?” Carl asked sure that he was being put on. “Like people urine?”

  “He’s dead serious,” Dad chuckled. “People have been tanning leather with urine since time began.”

  “So…I just pee on the skin or something?” Carl nervously laughed.

  “No,” Johnny said. “Here’s the deal. Get an empty five-gallon bucket out of the trailer. Get everyone to pee in it then match the urine with water.”

  “So…like, half pee. Half water?” Carl asked.

  “Yeah,” Johnny answered. “Drop your skin in the mix, seal the bucket then give it a day or two. The ammonia in the urine will kill anything living like bacteria then you just dry that puppy out and rub it till it’s soft.”

  “You’re going to be wearing a piss-soaked headband,” Liam laughed. “You’re gonna stink. Stink like piss.”

  “Like you didn’t stink for over two weeks,” I reminded Liam. “Mr. Pee On A Raccoon.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Liam scoffed.

  Carl got a bucket from the trailer like Johnny said and christened it with his urine. Everyone but Luke, Matt, Dad, and Johnny took turns adding to the bucket. Carl added water to the mix then dropped in his snakeskin in and put the lid on it.

  “I never would have done something like this back home,’ Carl exclaimed.

  “What?” Johnny asked. “Take a rattlesnake with a bow or cure its skin with the pee of a half dozen or so scouts?”

  Carl laughed, “Neither one of those!”

  69

  We were waiting out the heat of the day in the living room, joking about how we had peed on something that Carl hoped to put on his head when Luke and Andrew came back from the dam.

  “Where’s the water?” Carl said in reference to their caring back empty gallon jugs.

  “There’s a bunch of pigs down by the dam,” Luke almost yelled.

  “We spotted them on our way down there,” Andrew added.

  “Did they see or smell you?” Johnny asked.

  “No,” Andrew insisted. “We came back here to tell y’all as soon as we saw them.”

  “Somebody needs to go down there and shoot us some fresh pork chops,” Matt exclaimed.

  “Jack, go get my bow and put the stalk on them,” Johnny instructed.

  “Really?” Jack
said nervously.

  “Yes,” Johnny answered.

  Jack stood there dumbfounded.

  “Jack, now. You can do this,” Johnny insisted. “You shot that one a couple weeks ago. With no problem at all.”

  Jack somewhat smiled then went to the trailer to retrieve Johnny’s compound bow and quiver.

  “You know what you’re doing?” Johnny asked once Jack returned.

  “We’ll see,” Jack reluctantly admitted before heading down toward the dam.

  We followed Jack to the highest point in camp then watched as he walked down the slight drop that would eventually lead him to the dam. With our naked eyes we could just make out pigs of various sizes and colors wallowing in the mud at the point where the creek fed into the pond created by the dam. Jack skirted the brush on our side of the creek then crossed the creek maybe 150 yards upriver from the hogs.

  “Hope he’s keeping track of the wind,” Johnny said from behind his binoculars.

  “They’d be gone if he wasn’t, wouldn’t they?” Carl offered and asked.

  “Probably,” Johnny muttered, his face still behind his binos.

  Jack slipped into the cedar breaks on the far side of the creek and we could barely make out his tan form as he eased slowly through the foliage. The hogs continued rolling in the mud and some ate on plants growing from the water and others rooted in the dryer ground only feet from the creek bed. Jack eased gently from the trees 45 or so yards off the creek and stood almost hidden behind two cedar branches stacked on top of one another some three feet off the ground. He turned sideways to the creek and pulled the string back.

  “I can’t tell which one he’s going for,” Johnny whispered.

  Jack let his arrow fly and the hogs exploded in mayhem. They scattered then regrouped a few seconds later then charged down along the pond shoreline and past to the dam.

  “He missed,” Liam moaned.

  “Wait,” Johnny said still studying the scene from behind binoculars.

  The hogs crossed the creek below the dam and ran toward us and the rear animal fell. The black form kicked its legs outward, rolled over then fell still. Jack exited the woods and walked towards the fallen hog. He looked up at us and raised his fist and whooped in triumph.

  The rest of us rushed down to the creek to congratulate Jack and help him haul the pig back to camp. The pig was bigger than the one Jack had killed a few weeks earlier with Dad and Johnny guessing he’d weigh maybe 50 to 60 pounds after he was field dressed.

  Johnny grabbed Jack in a huge bear hug that embarrassed Jack greatly and said, “Way to go Jack! Way to bring on the bacon for Troop 137!”

  70

  Everyone helped in gutting and skinning the pig. We were tying it to a good-sized cedar stave to carry back to camp when Jack asked Johnny for his multi-tool.

  “Why?” Johnny asked.

  “I want to yank his tusks out,” Jack explained. “Put them on my necklace. My quail skulls are lonely.”

  “I tell ya’, y’all have gone completely and utterly savage!” Johnny laughed. “Wanting snakeskin headbands, dreadlocks. You all are starting to look like something out of a vintage National Geographic magazine.”

  “They make magazines?” Andrew asked. “I thought they just did TV shows.”

  “Just give me your multi-tool Dad,” Jack said impatiently.

  “Hold your horses there sir,” Johnny stopped him with a tinge of authority in his voice. “They won’t come outta there easily until you boil the skull a little to loosen the gums.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jack said. “Like we did those deer skulls a few weeks back. My bad.”

  “You can also bury the head,” Dad offered. “Dig it up in a few weeks. The head should be rotted enough by then to slide the tusks right out.”

  “We’ll boil it,” Jack almost stuttered in excitement. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

  We carried the pig back up to camp. Liam and I got the fire going while everyone else began processing the pig into cuts of meat. We agreed that we’d have an early dinner of ribs and tenderloin then smoke the rest of the meat.

  “I want to get some prickly pear fruit to baste the ribs,” Andrew said.

  “No! Me hungry now!” Carl joked.

  “OK. OK,” Andrew laughed.

  We feasted like kings that afternoon with everyone eating more than their fill of wild boar. We devoured ribs, engulfed tenderloin, and inhaled chops and after everyone was finished Johnny was still going. He had put a bone-in-ham on a spit over the flames and sat there cutting strip of meat after strip of meat.

  “How many pounds of meat have you eaten,” Jack laughed toward his dad.

  “Not enough,” Johnny said cutting yet another strip of meat from the ham. “You’ll know I’m finished when there’s only a bone left over the fire.”

  “Why stop there?” Dad laughed.

  “You’re right!” Johnny exclaimed. “There’s marrow in there.”

  We all laughed and then cleared the area of pig bones and settled into our car seats in the living room as the remains of the pig meat smoked. We sat there waiting for the cool of the evening well fed, happy, and content.

  71

  Dad woke me up early the next morning by shaking the edge of my cot. I came to and looked out to see him and Luke standing in the starlight waiting.

  “What?” I moaned still more or less asleep.

  “It’s time to go hunting,” Dad whispered.

  “Luke doesn’t hunt,” I moaned.

  “I’m going to check the traps,” Luke rebutted.

  Dad shushed Luke then whispered, “Don’t wake up Liam.”

  I looked over to see Liam snoring like a rusty chainsaw.

  “Oh, sorry,” Luke spoke in a much lower voice. “Just because I’m not going to shoot a gun doesn’t mean I can’t go hunting with y’all.”

  “That’s right,” Dad reiterated before turning his attention back to me. “So, let’s go! Deer or pig hopefully await.”

  My mind raced back to the epic big feast we’d had the day before. Maybe there was another big feast waiting to be had out there. “I’m getting up,” I said easing myself off my cot. “On my way.”

  Dad and Luke headed outside the tent and I got dressed and soon joined them. Dad handed me his AR and we hiked out of camp and into the darkness. We followed the road to the blind I’d to hunted so many times before. We took a seat behind the wall of vegetation and waited for the sun to rise.

  “How do you know what time to get up?” I whispered to Dad. “I mean, you always get us at the right time but you don’t have a watch.”

  Dad shushed me and replied that it was a secret.

  “No seriously,” I continued. How do you not get up at, like, three instead of five thirty or six?”

  “It’s magic,” Dad teased.

  “Whatever,” I almost laughed.

  “Whatever?” Dad repeated. “You might need to move into another tent. You’re starting to sound too much Liam.”

  “How do you know?” Luke asked in a normal voice.

  “Whisper Luke,” Dad quickly and quietly instructed.

  “Sorry,” Luke replied in a more hushed tone.

  “OK,” Dad relented. “Johnny has a clock with an alarm hooked up to his radio. We used that to begin with but now I just wake up at the right time out of habit. We’ve been out here a long time.”

  Dawn came and with it rabbits on the road before us. Quail hopped along on either side of the grated path, chasing insects or feeding on seeds and a few javelina crossed the road maybe 300 yards out. A few deer came into view but those that we saw first were too far out to risk a shot.

  We continued waiting and watching for game to come into range. We heard a lonesome coyote calling in the distance then watched as a roadrunner darted across the road only 20 yards before us.

  “Did you see that?!” I asked Dad. “He had a snake in his mouth. Beak. Whatever birds have.”

  “That was cool!” Luke exclaime
d. “Glad I got up this morning or I never would have seen it.”

  “At least something’s having good luck hunting this morning,” Dad jokingly offered.

  Time dragged.

  The sun continued upward, and the heat rose. I was about to ask Dad to call the hunt when three does exited the brush not far from the path that the roadrunner had taken. I looked to Dad and he nodded in approval. I eased into the rifle and took aim at the largest of the three deer. Dad gestured for Luke to plug his ears then nodded in my direction. I held tight on the doe then squeezed the trigger. The gun thundered, the doe bucked forward then spun around and fell.

  “Good shot!” Dad elated.

  “Awesome!” Luke exclaimed. He bolted from his chair and started running toward the downed animal.

  “Wait!” Dad called to him.

  Luke skidded to a stop and spun around.

  “Always like the hunter approach first,” Dad insisted. “That way he can make sure the animal’s really dead.”

  I took that as a hint and stood from my chair then led Dad and Luke to the downed deer.

  “Good shot,” Dad said again.

  No sooner had I said thanks than Luke was chomping at the bit to move on. “Can I go check the traps now?” Luke almost sang with excitement. “I wanna go collect the birds. I can do that.”

  Dad nodded and Luke ran off down the road with a birdcage in hand toward the first of the three traps.

  “Guess were gutting her on our own,” I moaned.

  “Such a sad boy,” Dad joked. “Are your feelings hurt that Luke is getting to do something else?”

  “No,” I laughed. “I was just hoping that you and Luke would gut her and I wouldn’t have to.”

  Dad and I knelt to situate the deer into a better position then turned in sudden horror at Luke’s screams.

  “What the…”

  Dad didn’t finish his sentence.

  It was as if time froze.

  Dad and I sat there on the ground staring at Luke, watching in disbelief at his screams and writhing in pain. Dad and I ran toward him and closed the 20-yard gap between us in record time. Luke stood next to the open trap almost bouncing on his feet and holding his hand to his chest. He wailed through tears and the convulsions that come with crying so hard. Dad took me and Luke from in front of the trap and I looked down just in time to see a rattlesnake slither into the tall grass at the side of the road.