Kent Heights

There is a standpipe on Kent Heights

That rises far above the land

And gave its water to the folks

That lived in houses found nearby.

Now this tank, three miles from home, ‘twas

Surrounded by some great red oaks

Where Gordon Soderlund and I

Hunted squirrels when we were young.

Ted and Pal

I hunted with my bow and dog

The Airedale Pal with whom I’d grown,

And Gordon with his B-B gun.

We made a threesome hard to beat

For when we spotted squirrels high

In those big oak trees, I would shoot

And if my arrow missed its mark,

Then he would try his B-B gun.

And often as the case would be

That squirrel ran right down the tree,

Where Pal was waiting all agape

To grab that squirrel with a shake

Or two, and then would bring to me

Until we had enough for stew.

And then a fire we would build

And eat those squirrels then and there.

                        -2-

Lots of squirrels went in that pot,

A pot we carried with some salt.

We always ate what we did shoot,

And always for our noontime meal.

But one year later, when we’d grown

Enough to hunt with twenty-twos,

We ventured forth in woods and fields

That surrounded old Kent Heights.

I can remember the time that Pal

Started a rabbit some way off

And chased him way across a field

Until they disappeared from sight,

And just as quickly came back out

To cross the field and come toward us

Who followed him, our rifles high

Then shot together, no word said,

Both shots hitting an inch apart.

                        -3-

And so we tried a rabbit stew.

We skinned it out, then built a fire

Then sat around 'til it was done.

To us it tasted oh so good

And to our dog, who shared with us

All we ate, regardless what, for

It was he who did the work and

Made it easy to fill the pot.

There was that woodchuck Pal had found

The one that bit him through the tongue

Which made that dog so very mad

That after feinting here and there

He grabbed that woodchuck by the scruff

And tossed him high into the air.

He landed hard and Pal jumped in

And just worried him to death.

So for two seasons we did hunt,

Shooting squirrels, which we ate

Along with rabbits when we could.

Then one day we crossed a stream

And near the woods, along a wall

We saw a fox, all bushy tailed

But Gordon had first shot that day

And killed that fox with just one shot.

                        -4-

A fox was rare for anyone

But for two boys just turned fourteen

It was a feat so hard to beat,

And so we gloated when his folks

Did look upon that red fox fur

And thought, how did these boys so young

Even ever see a fox? Yet

Here’s the proof, the skinned out fox.

Now Kent Heights will always be close,

For here it is I learned to hunt

And learned that squirrels, rabbits too,

Tasted great, after they were skinned

And put into a pot to stew.

I also learned that Pal, my dog,

Would tackle anything in sight

For this Airedale just loved to hunt.

Now I’m in my elder years

My hunting partner has passed on

And Pal, my faithful old Airedale,

Has reached his happy hunting ground,

And I no longer care to hunt.

I haven’t now for fifty years

But always will remember that

Kent Heights was part of my young life.