Way back in those days of copperas breeches, all the believers in witches were not dead, and next worse to witches were what was called "Jack~o~Lanterns". These were represented as being something like Fox~Fire, and would show themselves only at night. If they could only get a person to look at them long enough, that person would have to follow them, (to who knows where), until daylight.: To insure safety from these bewitching pests, a person had to remember to turn some of his clothing wrong side out. There were grownups, even, in those days, who always wore some part of their garments wrong side out. Of course I was too big to be tempted to look at anything long enough to be led away by it and I never expected to be brought to the test, but alas, the vanity of human imagination.
The 'coons had made a break on the new crop of corn, so the old dog had been shown their sign the evening before, and warned to be ready by four o'clock the next morning. When four o'clock came, I was raised out of my bed to remind my dog of his duties. It was not long before he caught the scent and began to bark in the proper direction. We followed him, my father carrying his gun and I with an axe.
The timber was thick in the bottom land, but we finally made it to where the dog was barking up a tree to let us know that the 'coon had been cornered. This tree was too large to cut down, so it was decided that a fire would be kindled to keep off the mosquitoes and me and the dog would stay to keep the 'coon up the tree. My father had to go somewhere that morning, but said that he would stop by our neighbor's, (Newman), and have him come and shoot the 'coon as soon as it was daylight. Of course I was not afraid to stay out in the woods alone, for I had the axe and a fire and a dog that I could stake more on than any two other dogs.
The early morning was perfectly still and the chunk fire sent its smoke straight toward the heavens through the tops of the trees. I soon ran through my mind all the hairbreadth escapes that I had ever heard the older hunters tell about. The dog stood by, ready for any emergency that might arise, but finally quieted his barking, and I began to nod.
All of a sudden, something came "kufump" on the ground. I thought surely it was a bear that had fallen out of the tree ~ or a panther had jumped out ~ or...?!! But no difference ~ whatever it was, the dog was at its heels and had the situation well in hand. I recalled how I had often smoked rabbits out of tree stumps, but this was a new wonder and I thought something very mysterious ~ perhaps "witches", or "jack-o-lanterns"! It would be well for me to be careful that nothing got the least advantage of me until I got back home.
By now I had got out of the bottom land to where the ground was more open and the moon shone plainly in the tops of the little dogwoods. I heard the dog bark again, and on reaching him, discovered that the mysterious object was an opossum ~ and a big one, too! As soon as I struck the sapling, the old possum growled. I knew they would do that when disturbed in a hollow tree or log, but outside, I had never heard the like before, and to make sure I was not tinkering with a "witch", I stopped and made a thorough examination of the situation. I had never heard of a dog treeing a witch up a dogwood sapling, so I took courage and whaled away on the tree with my axe ~ the dog barking and the possum growling all the while.
A few more licks and we were all together, but the dog was soon off after the possum, leaving me by myself. Giving the dogwood a few shakes, I started to leave the field for another possum hunt, when I heard some strange squealing noises. I soon discovered they were coming from a dozen or more little creatures that rolled and tumbled in every direction, and in the moonlight, looked just like fox-fire. I took in the whole situation at one glance and called for the dog, thinking that he surely would not desert me at such a critical moment. But I had forgotten that he was still a puppy and like other puppies, was given to going around jabbing his nose into everything. One day he happened to poke his nose into the head of an old loggerhead turtle that had been thrown into the mill yard and it clinched him in a way that he never forgot. So, while he was not afraid of big things, he could never afterwards bear the wiggle of little ones.
And so it was, that I kept up such a hollering for him that he soon put himself beside me without ever taking in the situation of things. On seeing the jack-o-lanterns, he commenced to fidget and jump around, and in spite of all my encouraging whoops and cheers, was soon out of sight, leaving me to my fate, be it death or victory. To be deserted at such a trying hour by my best and strongest friend was too much. I thought of the old folks at home and my new pants still in the loom that were to have pockets on both sides ~ and of the abundant peach crop this year, and that watermelon time had just set in. But these were thoughts quickly pushed aside.
All two while the circle of jack-o-lanterns was getting closer, as if to avenge my intrusion, and I had thoughts of a merciful death. To run might mean the whole posse would attack me at once, and besides, a green briar swamp that was hardly passable in time of peace, lay between me and home. My old straw hat had been pushed off my head by the bristling of my hair, but I still held onto the axe, which I had raised higher and higher until now, while standing on my tiptoes, I could hardly reach the end of the handle. I gripped it with a vengeance and vowed that anything was better than being led into the swamps by jack-o-lanterns and being rode by witches.
There were several of the squealing creatures within reach of me, but the one that was the closest seemed to be the leader and the biggest and most dangerous of them all, so it was selected to begin with. If nothing but fight was to terminate this awful affair that I had got into, I was determined to show my best. Of course, it could hardly be expected that I should ever live to write the history of this great battle, since the odds were so against me, but to be taken off without leaving the ground torn up without a sign of desperate struggle would expose me to ridicule by all the boys who I had got the better of in our wrestlings.
My leading enemy was at hand, and giving a little kind of squeal that it meant business, it laid back its ears and was ready to leap. As fast as my excited brain and scared muscles could direct the blows, I flailed the axe and continued to call the dog for help, until soon, only a few of my dreaded enemy were left laying on the soft ground. On seeing no more resistance and to stop the further effusion of blood and slaughter, I raised a white flag, myself, and called for further investigation, which revealed the fact that only three of the creatures remained. These were carefully picked up and deposited in my hat, to be taken home and shown to my brothers and sisters as my trophies of the great war I had fought with the young possums.
For those unfamiliar with the terms ~
Foxfire is an eerie soft glow or light, usually bluish-green, coming from the leaf-covered ground or dead wood. It can be seen most easily along the ground, in chunks of rotting wood, and on old stumps in moist areas of woodlands or swamps. It is a natural phenomenon caused by bioluminescent fungi where light is generated by a chemical reaction inside a living organism. It is both seen and not seen behind hedges and thickets and is often mentioned in folk-lore and ghost stories.
The jack-o-lantern is a common mushroom, which is the fruit-bearing part of a fungus, while the body, or mycelium, lies in the soil or decaying bark. It is named for both its bright orange color and its glow-in-the-dark characteristic. (The gills on the underside of the jack-o-lantern produce its glow). This particular mushroom is poisonous and, while eating one won't kill you, it will just make you wish you were dead! ------------DQ
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