My outdoor experiences while growing up in the Ozark Mountains during the late 60's and early 70's were shaped by two people. One, my Mother, whose knowledge of the local flora and fauna instilled in me the love of nature and the other, was my Uncle Bill.
Uncle Bill was the quintessential outdoor mountain man. An excellent hunter, trapper and fisherman, it seemed there was not much in the outdoors that he was not an expert at. He taught me how to hunt the illusive Eastern Wild Turkey showing me the secrets of skill and patience as the pinnacle of success.
To give you some background on my Uncle Bill’s knowledge, skill and adaptability in the outdoors I take you back to a weekend in my youth when I was invited to a weekend spent running trot lines on the Sac River.
Two trot lines were strung across the swiftest part of the river to take advantage of a reported white cat run in the area. Because of the swiftness of the current, ropes were utilized to pull the flat bottom johnboat to the upper line. Uncle Bill and his friend Ronnie would check the line across to the other side, let go and drift to the lower line where it would lead directly back to camp. Looking back now that alone was quite ingenious.
To a young boy the amount of fish the two men caught that weekend seemed astounding. We ate fish until we could eat no more and still had plenty. Along about 10:00 p.m. the bait ran out and my Uncle did something truly astounding! He went to the truck, pulled out some white Styrofoam cups and started tearing them into little pieces.
Being a typical curious young boy, I asked him what he was doing and he replied…"Makin’ bait!" Obviously, I could not understand how Styrofoam chunks could catch fish, but it did! To my surprise they caught the white cat as well or better than any bait they had been using.
A few months later, however, he did something that has been the topic of discussion in my family now for nearly forty years. This one act of bravery (bravery?) has stuck out in my mind and amuses me to this day.
Being the rough-tough outdoorsman he figured the ultimate expression of his rouged manliness would be to join the "Polar Bear Club!" (un-officially) What better place than Bear Creek in January to commit the definitive test of courage by breaking the ice to swim nude in the frozen waters.
With more courage than apparent common sense he found the highest bank on Bear Creek overlooking the deepest swimming hole there. Pausing for only a moment to put in a cheek full of tobacco, he yelled Geranimo and jumped butt naked into the frigid waters.
Ice chunks and water went in all directions as he did his best cannonball into Bear Creek. An eerie cracking sound could be heard in all directions as the ice spider webbed away from the jagged, bubbling hole where he disappeared.
Moments passed that seemed like hours as we waited patiently for him to emerge. In the momentary silence the faint sounds of deer bounding away into the deep woods could be heard. Obviously terrified they were making no effort to be still as they ran away from the area where the crazed humans were.
The silence was abruptly broken with the screaming of a man apparently in shock as he broke a new hole in the ice in his haste to exit the frozen waters. Shivering and feeling a little foolish he tried his best to regain his composure. For my Uncle Bill that was always accomplished by saying the darnedest things that stick with you for years.
While dressing he looked up at us and sheepishly exclaimed…
"I think I cracked my nuts and swallowed my snuff!"
