Tag Archives: Arkansas

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What Kind of Rabbit Is that, Jack?

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What Kind of Rabbit Is that, Jack?

James R. Aist

When I was growing up in Arkansas, we always had beagle dogs, and we always hunted rabbits with them. At that time we (the dogs and us, that is) had never seen any kind of rabbits except cottontails and, rarely, the oversized version of them, swamp rabbits. But, the cottontails were by far the most common and easily accessible, because we had to drive to a distant swamp to hunt the big ones. Little did we know at the time that there was another kind of rabbit slowly making its way eastward into Arkansas from Oklahoma and Texas, the jackrabbit. And, for sure, we had never, ever seen one, until one day…

My family was living in Elm Springs, about 6 miles from Springdale, where I was attending high School. My oldest brother, Art, was visiting us, and we decided to go rabbit hunting. I knew of a good place within walking distance, so we let the dogs out of the pen and started down the road to a nearby field that had a mixture of grass and brush, with a small woods on the back side. Off we went into the edge of the field with shotguns loaded and dogs in a frenzy, as they always were when we took them hunting.

Now our trained beagles would automatically begin hunting for cottontail rabbits once they saw us heading into a field or woods, guns in hand. With noses to the ground, they would search feverishly and anxiously here and there in hopes of “jumping” a rabbit that was hunkered down somewhere, hoping that we would just pass it by. When the dogs would begin to pick up the scent of a cottontail, they would get highly agitated and begin to making little yipping noises as they got closer and closer to the rabbit. Then, suddenly, the rabbit would make a run for it, hopping away lickety-split with short, rapid leaps, the dogs running at top speed after them and baying loudly with each breath. The chase was on! Now, a cottontail can always run faster than a beagle at first, but if the dogs can stay on their scent trail long enough, the rabbit will tire and the dogs will catch up with it. Note that all during the chase, the dogs are baying as they continue to get the scent of the fleeing rabbit. And when we would shoot a cottontail that was on the run, the dogs would run up to it, smell and “mouth” it for a moment, and, when they could not get it to get up and run any more, they would lose interest in it and set out to find a fresh rabbit that would run. That’s how it usually goes with beagles and cottontails.

But, this time it was strangely different. The dogs began to behave like they had picked up the scent of a rabbit alright, but they weren’t yipping. They continued to follow the scent cautiously until a rabbit “jumped” and began to run away. They gave chase, but running at about half speed, not making even a peep. Right away, we knew this was no ordinary rabbit, and a kind that we had never seen before. It was much larger than even a swamp rabbit, had oversize hind legs that launched it on very long, relatively slow strides, and had huge, long ears that flopped back and forth with every leap. The dogs followed this rabbit silently and at a distance, like they weren’t really sure that they wanted to catch up with it. Normally, we would raise and fire on a rabbit as soon as we had a clear shot, but this time we just stood there for a moment, watching this spectacular, alien creature run and the dogs follow along silently at a safe distance. It was an amazing sight to see.

Then, this jackrabbit made a fatal mistake, turning slightly to his left in his haste to get away, giving Art just enough separation from the trailing dogs to make a safe shot. His aim was true, and the jackrabbit rolled to the ground, dead in its tracks as it were. Uncharacteristically, the dogs stopped about ten feet from the fallen jackrabbit, afraid to get any closer to this strange-smelling beast. They circled around it with their eyes fixed on it, just in case. The entire scenario was, to us, bizarre, to say the least, yet very exciting and memorable.

So, we carried this odd creature home and proudly showed it off to the rest of the family. They were duly impressed. Then we “cleaned” the jackrabbit, cut it into pieces and cooked it in the usual fashion: rolled in flour seasoned with salt and pepper, and then fried with Crisco in a cast-iron skillet. And guess what it tasted like…wait for it…wait for it… It tasted like…rabbit. Now, why in the world would you assume that I was going to say it tasted like chicken? A rabbit is a rabbit is a rabbit, after all. And, uh-THA, uh-THA, uh-THAT’S all, folks, because that was the first and only jackrabbit we ever ran across in all our years of hunting in Arkansas. And we killed it.

(For more stories and tales by Dr. Aist, click HERE.)

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Lazy Day Destinations – “White Silver Sands Bluff”

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Lazy Day Destinations – “White Silver Sands Bluff”

 James R. Aist

Growing up in rural Arkansas left me with many fond memories of favorite places, especially when it was summer vacation and I could just pick up and go by myself, or with a friend or two, on a hot, lazy summer afternoon.

When I was around 12 years old and my family lived in Evening Shade (the real one, population 315, not the fictional one on the TV sit-com), one of my favorite places was “Joe Rock.” Just across Highway 11 from Evening Shade, and about a ten minute walk down a winding farm road (see photo at upper right), was Piney Creek, which ran clear in the summer until the dog days of August set in. If you made a right turn when you reached Piney Creek and followed along the creek bank for maybe 150 yards or so, you came to Joe Rock. Now Joe Rock was usually the target destination whenever we followed that path to Piney Creek, because it was a nice, private swimming hole (click HERE). But there were a couple of other favorite places to visit farther down the creek. I have already recounted the story about Mill Creek and “Bubbling Springs”(click HERE).

So, now let’s start where Mill Creek flows into Piney Creek, past Joe Rock about 150 yards or so. From there, you could see another “natural wonder”, a pristine place just a little farther down the creek that I will call “White Silver Sands Bluff.” This was where Piney Creek made a broad, sweeping turn to the left. Just beyond the outer bank of that turn in the creek, on the right, was a beautiful, solid, rock bluff about 20 feet high. And on the inner bank, to the left, was a sand bar and beach of fine, white sand, dotted here and there with little tufts of vegetation (OK, weeds) and small rocks. It was a beautiful site to see, very peaceful, serene and quiet, and I was always amazed that such a wonderful place could exist that close to civilization and yet remain unknown to all but a very few who chanced upon it. It was a perfect lazy day destination, where you could be alone with your thoughts while sitting on the beach resting your feet in the warm, clear soothing water as it passed silently by.

But, White Silver Sands Bluff was also a place that could afford an adventuresome interlude now and then. One day while ambling along this pristine beach without a care in this world, I noticed that there was a tiny (baby) snake wriggling its way toward the water. Now, I had a history of playing with (harmless) green snakes on the family dairy farm, when we lived miles away in Cypress Valley. So, I walked over to this little snake to see if it was poisonous or not. Turns out, it looked like it might be a baby water moccasin, but its poison glands did not appear to be well developed yet. Then I (foolishly) decided it would be a good idea to find out if it was a water moccasin by sticking my bare foot in front of it to see if it would bite me and leave fang marks. So, I did, and it did! Suddenly I became worried that maybe I had underestimated the maturity of its poison sacks, because the cute little fang marks on the end of my “test” toe were becoming more and more conspicuous. So, having no other recourse, I headed straight for home, anxiously keeping an eye on my poor toe all the way.

Fortunately, there was no swelling of my “test” toe when I got home, so there was really no reason to tell anyone what I had done…right? But I did promise myself I would never do that again. Now before you’re too hard on me for doing such a foolish thing in the first place, let me remind you that I was right, after all…the snake was too young to be poisonous. So there!

(For more TRUE TALES, click HERE)

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Lazy Day Destinations – Mill Creek to “Bubbling Springs”

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Lazy Day Destinations – Mill Creek to “Bubbling Springs”

 James R. Aist

Growing up in rural Arkansas left me with many fond memories of favorite places, especially when it was summer vacation and I could just pick up and go by myself, or with a friend or two, on a hot, lazy summer afternoon.

When I was around 12 years old and my family lived in Evening Shade (the real one, population 315, not the fictional one on the TV sit-com), one of my favorite places was “Joe Rock.” Just across Highway 11 from Evening Shade, and about a ten minute walk down a winding farm road, was Piney Creek, which ran clear in the summer until the dog days of August set in. If you made a right turn when you reached Piney Creek and followed along the creek bank for maybe 150 yards or so, you came to Joe Rock. Now Joe Rock was usually the target destination whenever we followed that path to Piney Creek, because it was a nice, private swimming hole (click HERE). But there were a couple of other favorite places to visit farther down the creek.

If you went down Piney Creek past Joe Rock for another 150 yards or so, then you came to the place where Mill Creek flowed into Piney Creek from the right. Now, Mill Creek was a really, really cold creek, which in the heat of summer felt great, if you darted into its path and then, just as quickly, darted back into the warm waters of Piney Creek. For the longest time we wondered why Mill Creek was so cold; nobody seemed to know. That is, until one day we decided to explore Mill Creek upstream to see if we could find where it came from. To do that, it was necessary to walk along beside the creek, because, after about 30 seconds in that cold water, one’s bare feet began to feel numb! Well, we must have walked a mile or two when we came upon an unexpected, but familiar, sight that explained why the waters of Mill Creek were so cold: A natural wonder that I call “Bubbling Springs” (presently “Evening Shade Town Spring”, now with a spring house – see photo at upper right).

We were already familiar with “Bubbling Springs”, having visited there several times by bicycle or automobile; it was off of Highway 11, just a little south of Evening Shade. But this was the first time that we had connected “Bubbling Springs” with Mill Creek. Now, “Bubbling Springs” was a minor tourist attraction in the immediate area and a favorite place to fill water jugs with naturally chilled drinking water. It was also a fascinating place to play and collect pretty, polished stones. You see, this was no ordinary artesian spring. No, this spring emerged from the ground, over a large area, as dozens of bubbling, crystal-clear springs that shot up 4-8 inches above the water level, pushing up beautiful, highly polished stones along with the water. The stones were kept in a continuous cycle of bubbling up and then falling back into the springs, and then bubbling up again, etc. The sound of all of those stones crashing into one another as they rose and fell in the springs was impressive, to put it mildly. This was nature’s “stone polisher” on steroids! The “floor” of the entire spring area was covered with these very colorful polished stones, and I still have a few of them from my personal collection.

“Bubbling Springs” was always a fascinating place to visit, especially on a hot summer afternoon, when we could enjoy wading around in the chilly, churning “spring field” until our feet were numb. And from that time on, every time we walked down Piney Creek to Mill Creek, we were reminded of “Bubbling Springs”, the amazing — but no longer mysterious — source of its frigid waters.

(For more TRUE TALES, click HERE)

Evening Shade Town Spring

Evening Shade Town Spring

Caption – The photo to the right shows a spring house built by the town of Evening Shade to house some of the “bubbling springs” and provide safe drinking water for the residents.  The water runs out of a grating at the bottom of a set of cement steps. Of course, this developed facility was not there when I was. At that time, there was only a level, mowed field bordering the field of springs, which is located to the left of this photograph.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Lazy Day Destinations – Joe Rock

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Lazy Day Destinations – Joe Rock

 James R. Aist

Growing up in rural Arkansas left me with many fond memories of favorite places, especially when it was summer vacation and I could just pick up and go by myself, or with a friend or two, on a hot, lazy summer afternoon.

When I was around 12 years old and my family lived in Evening Shade (the real one, population 315 at the time, not the fictional one on the TV sit-com), one of my favorite places was “Joe Rock.” Just across Highway 11 from our home in Evening Shade, and about a ten minute walk down a winding farm road (see photo at upper right), was Piney Creek, which ran clear and warm in the summer until the dog days of August set in (During dog days, clumps of dead, brown algae would rise from the creek bottom and float down stream, making the water less appealing). If you made a right turn when you reached Piney Creek and followed along the creek bank for maybe 50 yards or so, you came to Joe Rock. Now Joe Rock was a real rock of rather large proportions (perhaps 5-6 feet across and rising above the water line about 3 feet) that was just sitting there in Piney Creek with water swirling all around it. Joe Rock was the sight of an inviting swimming hole, because, over the years, the water current had carved out a depression in the creek bottom around the rock, and the water around Joe Rock was about 3-4 feet deep, suitable for shallow diving from atop this solitary boulder. From the bank, Joe Rock looked like you might expect any large, over-sized rock to look, but it was no ordinary rock. Under the water, hidden from view, were three “legs” that extended down in tri-pod fashion from Joe Rock, keeping it suspended above the creek bottom about a foot or so. I’ve never seen anything like it.

This unique feature conferred a fascination on Joe Rock that added to the excitement of each visit. We enjoyed donning swimming goggles, “diving” down, swimming underwater around Joe Rock and peeking between its “legs” at each other. And that’s how I discovered that there were often one or two large-mouth bass lurking around and between the “legs” of Joe Rock, using it as cover.

Well, one day I decided it would be fun to see if I could spear one of those bass and take it home for dinner. So, the next time I left the house and set out for Joe Rock, I snuck a cooking fork from a kitchen drawer and fully intended to impale one of the bass on it. And sure enough, when I got to Joe Rock and slipped into the water, there were two unsuspecting bass just swimming lazily in and out around the “legs” of the rock. I took a deep breath, slowly submerged myself under the water and stealthily approached my prey so as not to spook them. After a few tries, I finally got close enough to one of the bass to make my move. With all my 12-year old might, I thrust the fork violently toward the unsuspecting entrée, but, alas, the fork just brushed him aside without even leaving a mark. That’s when I realized that one’s arm can move a lot faster through air than through water; I just wasn’t able to generate the fork speed required to pierce the elusive prey.

I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed that I would have to return from my fishing expedition empty handed, but I didn’t let that minor setback keep me from enjoying the rest of my swim. After all, the bass did make each visit to Joe Rock that much more exciting, so why not just leave them be, for everyone to enjoy? And so I did, and they did.

(For more TRUE TALES, click HERE)