Coon hunters are a breed of their own. Picture someone with a deep connection to rural life and a strong understanding of the natural environment. They are typically skilled in woodsmanship, tracking, and the use of coonhounds for hunting raccoons, primarily for their hides. These hunters are known for their night-time hunting activities, as raccoons are nocturnal animals.

They will likely possess knowledge of raccoon behavior and habitats and are adept at reading their dogs’ cues to locate and tree raccoons. Coon hunters often hunt for sport, tradition, and the challenge of the hunt, rather than solely for the purpose of harvesting game.

In addition to practical skills, traditional coon hunters are part of a culture that values the camaraderie and storytelling that comes with the shared experience of the hunt. They may participate in hunting competitions and are often involved in community events related to coon hunting.

 I must sadly admit I haven’t been coon hunting in many years. The sport of hunting raccoons has become riddled with frustration and impossibilities due to urbanization with its loss of farm land, lots of new houses, housing developments and posted signs.

Both coon hounds and raccoons (especially raccoons) do not understand the concept of posted signs, private property or private residences. They seem to enjoy hiding in a porch where a family of four are soundly sleeping. Even as a coon hunter, I completely understand how being waken at two AM by a baying coon hound right outside your bedroom window would cause a loss of a sense of humor.

It’s good to have memories however, and I have a few adventures I can recall while chasing those mangy furbearers. I was much younger then and didn’t mind a ten-mile trek over hill and dale carrying a Ruger ten-twenty two, a Smith and Wesson .22 and a good flashlight that by today’s standards was the size of a pickup truck battery.

I was hunting with an Airedale coon hound that was given to me by a coworker. He had given up traipsing through the woods after dark and wanted “Patches” to have a good home.

Patches was a great coon hound, and we had many pleasurable coon hunting evenings with him. He was good on track, and he treed like a champion. He had one small shortcoming, however. It had to do with skunks.

If we were chasing, treeing and catching ‘coon, all was well. However ………. Patches did not like dry spells, and two or three nights without a ‘coon to challenge was a bit of a problem for Patches and he seemed to blame the lack of tree-able coon on skunks.

It’s not uncommon to see skunks scurrying about while out in the nighttime air. It’s actually kind of common, and as long as there were some ‘coon about, they were safe. But in the absence of ‘coon, it was not good for the skunk or for us hunters.

Now I suspect you’re thinking, so he kills a skunk. One less skunk in the woods is not the end of the world. But of course, there is the odor. Killing a skunk can create quite a scent not easily dealt with.

However, Patches had a bit of a vicious side. He didn’t just kill the skunk, he literally tore it to pieces. This poor skunk would end up scattered over a three acre area. There was shaking and dragging and rolling and shaking and dragging and rolling and shaking and dragging and rolling.

There would literally be a cloud of “skunk” that would lay over the area like a thick New York City fog. The odor would literally bring you to your knees. I once tried to leash Patches to get him out of there, but remember, he always had a head start and by the time we knew what was happening, it was well under way.

I had to burn my close. My wife made me sleep outside. The smell actually burned. It was like it seeped into your being and released its fragrance at will. I can testify tomato juice doesn’t help very much.

It was so bad we would not even put Patches in the back of the truck. And if we had the Wagoneer, forget it! We simply went home. Patches knew the way. He would meet us there the next morning.

It is the primary reason his dog coupe was so far from the house.

But I will say, it must have been a great sinus and nasal cleansing, because we never went hunting after a skunk night and not had coon pelts to bring home. It gave Patches a new incentive to find and tree old bandit.

Of course not all trails are hot and coon have no aversion to traveling. I often wonder just how many miles we put in some of those nights. We never needed to worry about a gym membership back then.

There are also some pretty smart racoons running around the woods. They would often pull some trickery to fool the dogs. But Patches wasn’t one to be fooled often. There was a wide gulley with a brook running down the center of it not far from my house. It was a common hangout for raccoons and we hunted it often. Being a bit wet and swampy, there was a lot of vines connecting treetops all along the brook.

One particularly large coon got in the habit of treeing, then walking the vines. There was a big blowdown about fifty or sixty yards from where he would tree. The coon’s trick was to run down that blowdown and off he went to his hollow tree about five hundred yards away.

He pulled this trick on Patches several times. But unfortunately for Mr coon, he pulled it one time to many. One night we heard the dog’s treeing and was a little disappointed, assuming the same scenario was about to play out. But old patches had another plan for tonight. We got to the tree that the other dogs were treeing at, but Patches wasn't there. So where did patches go?  All of a sudden we heard a tremendous ruckus about 75 yards up the ravine . Patches has figured out what the coon was up to and met him at the bottom of the blowdown.

I’m not sure if the coon knew if he turned around and headed back up the tree if it was the end of the line or he figured being a thirty five pound coon gave him enough advantage that this was going to be easy, but either way, easy it was not!

The snarling and growling and biting and clawing was reminiscent of a Claude Van Damme movie. We definitely didn’t want to get caught n the middle, but our instincts were to help protect our dogs, but there wasn’t much we could do but watch. We knew jumping in the middle of this would probably result in some missing flesh.

By now the other two dogs decided to join in on the excitement. Most coon dogs are not ones to back away from a fight. After quite an extended battle, that coon gave one hell of a fight but unfortunately for him, he was outnumbered.

I don’t know what the outcome would have been if Patches didn’t have help, after all he was getting on in dog years and didn’t have the stamina he once had. However, I’m pretty sure the outcome would have still been the same.

When the battle was won, Patches was a little bloody and had some new battle scars, but I’m pretty sure if dogs can smile, there was definitely a smile on his face. Or maybe it was just a smug look, saying “I still got it”.

He let out a howl that I’m sure was telling the other dogs, “now that’s how it’s done!”

Those days of adventures were memorable. I enjoyed them in the moment and I enjoy telling the stories about those adventures. The whole point in life is making the memories. Even though my coon hunting days may be over, the memories will be around as long as I am, and maybe if I can keep writing, they may even outlast me.

Go ahead, step outside and smell the air. You’ll know if there are any skunks in the area! And if you’re awaken at 2am by a coon being treed outside your window, don’t be to harsh on the hunters, they’ve likely got a ten mile walk home.