This photo reminded me of a deer-hunting trek, gone weird.
I was only about 15yrs old and hunting near a wetland with my B-I-L in China, Maine. I'd been on a trail in light alders, near a bog, when I spied some fur beyond the low crotch of a hardwood, about 60 yards into the wooded area beyond the light alder patch. The fur moved slightly, like a deer was lying, maybe sleeping beyond it. After watching for what seemed an eternity, a head popped up, but it was a raccoon! A neighbor had told me to shoot one for him if I had the chance, so I put the old Bolt-Action Savage 'O6's 2X Weaver crosshair on it and FIRED! The darned coon, quickly climbed the tree, so I worked the action and shot again! The coon fell off the tree, then came around the trunk and headed toward me! Worked the bolt again and fired a third time!!! Dang...that's the toughest danged coon I ever saw!!! I went to see my what had to be the shredded coon, but to my surprise, there were THREE! One still in the hollow crotch of the tree with not much left of it's head.
Now, my B-I-L yelled, "Did you get it?" I yelled back that I got THREE (knowing that he'd think I'd gotten 3 deer). Well, he sounded like a freight train coming through the young alders and when he arrived, there were "unmentionable expletives" flying. After that, we called him "thrasher"!
I gave the least-damaged coon to the old man from camp and prepared the others for cooking.
JP
