The Squirrel Hunt

“Big boy too.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear.” J.D. replied and then scanned the ground around him.“I’m goin’ now, but you call when you get the fire burning good.”

They moved up under a stunted pine and squatted against the rain. Long minutes passed and finally J.D. said, “I got a problem here Paul. The woods too wet to burn.”

“Get some dry stuff from under the bigger trees.”

“Won’t make no difference.”

“Why not?”

“I ain’t got no matches either. I used them all.”

“This is just Jim Dandy!” Pa stood and all but yelled. Paul noticed it was so cold that a white cloud poured from the old man’s mouth as he spoke. He jerked the radio from Paul’s hands and said, “You stay where ya be and then move to the truck come sunup. There ain’t a thing we can do until we have some light.”

“Pa, I didn’t mean to get lost!”

Feeling the fear and sorrow in his son’s voice the old man said, “Boy, you ain’t the first feller to ever get lost and ya won’t be the last. Just tough it out and then come sunrise walk to the truck.”

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Morning came cold and wet, but at the truck a fire burned, coffee was brewing and Paul was scared of what his pa would say when he returned home. He was supposed to have been home before dark, so it was likely his dad called the police.

At that moment, Sheriff Clyde Moreland came bouncing down the old logging road and came to a quick stop behind the truck. His lights were flashing the siren going full blast, as he stepped from the car and made his way to the fire.

“Howdy do, Clyde,” Paul said as he stood.

“Son, you’re in a heap a trouble for not comin’ home last night.”

Looking down at his feet, Paul said, “I know I am, but we had an emergency. J.D. is lost in the woods.”

“That so,” Clyde asked gazing into the eyes of J.D.s pa.

“Yep, he got turned around a bit and had to spend the night in the woods. He’ll be here directly.”

Returning to his car, Clyde reported to the station he’d found Paul safe and sound, but they had a lost boy in the woods. Within thirty minutes, six patrol cars pulled up and the officers started for the fire.

“Who’s missin’ Clyde?” A tall lanky man called Slim asked.

“J.D. Davis and most of ya know the kid. Now, I want Wilcox and Jones to move off to the west, while Harrison and Slim, you two move north. Lee, you and Jonas move east.”

Slim frowned and asked, “Which way you goin’?”

“I’ll stay here and man the command post.”

“Command post, this ain’t no command post.”

“It is if I designate ‘er one and I just did that.”

Grumbling at having to search in the muddy woods, the officers moved into the trees. Thirty minutes later Paul picked up his walky-talky. “J.D. are you movin’ yet?”

“Yep, I’m on the hill behind ya and I can see the truck. Why’s all them police cars there?”

“Lookin’ for you.”

“Uh-oh, not good. I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Have Clyde call them officers back.”

Shaking his head, Clyde picked up his radio and said, “The search is called off the kid is safe.”

Static filled the air, but no one replied. “I repeat, the search is off, return to the command post.” Nothing was heard.

“How much did that radio cost Clyde?” Paul asked.

“Nigh on three hundred dollars, why?”

“I paid two for mine and works just fine.”

“Find something to do boy, I’m a busy man.”

When Paul and his small group left an hour later, Clyde had called the Mississippi Highway Patrol and ‘possum patrol to help find his deputies. No one ever answered the radio calls and as they left, J.D. warned Clyde of the swamp monster that lived on the south side of the woods. The Sheriff just shook his head and continued to call to his men. But, deep back in his mind, he decided right then and there, he’d not leave camping to look for anyone. The officers were found one-by-one, but the last one was not discovered until the next morning. He was hungry, tired and kept saying something about a swamp monster he’d seen.

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