When Jake asked me to go on a hunting trip to Mississippi I
was doubtful. I’m not a hunter but I
really wanted to go to see what it was like at a real Mississippi hunting
camp. You see I’m from the north and
Jake is from Louisiana. That really shouldn’t matter but I think you can guess
that there were some differences in how we looked at things. We drove from New Orleans to a small town in
the middle of Mississippi just north of Oxford. Jake found the driveway easily
but all I saw was overgrown tangle of bittersweet and thorn bushes. We drove up
the long winding driveway as I anticipated coming into a courtyard in front of
a large rambling southern rustic hunting Camp.
However the building was a vintage, aged
southern plantation complete with wraparound porch tall columns in a series of
outbuildings that, from a distance, looked like a movie set. Jake drove his pickup right up close to the
porch. That was when I noticed some serious differences between a classic movie
set and a real-life scene from Deliverance. Three men were sitting around a
stainless steel high-legged fire pot on various types of seating; a white moldy
plastic fake Adirondack chair, a broken wooden high-back chair, the front seat
passenger side of a Volkswagen beetle, and a wooden bench that look like it was
about to collapse under the weight of a beaming, greasy, long haired drunk
weighing at least 300 pounds. He is set
up with some effort but surprising grace and introduce himself as Norfleet
Ruffin Sledge, the SIXTH, and welcomed me to his home and estate with an ice
cold Budweiser. As he threw his own
empty bottle down a nearby well, I knew I was going to like this place. When I saw two all-terrain vehicles in the
yard and 4-5 rifles and shotguns leaning up against the crumbling porch, I knew
I was going to love it.
We threw another hunk of some ancient looking plank onto the
fire and everyone stood up to greet Jake warmly, cursing and teasing
good-naturedly and of course passed around more beer.
“Hey Jake and Tom, throw your stuff in the house, get your
guns, and let’s go take a drive!”
We headed up the broken steps to the more broken porch,
opened a rusted wooden screen door and walked into hell. The room was a smelly shambles of moldy
mattresses on rusty metal springs and piles of muddy, wet hunting clothes in
every corner. Three TV’s were on in
three different rooms all playing the same porno-video tape over and over with
the volume turned down to a low moan.
Jake walked over to the cleanest bed, picked up all the blankets,
clothing along with some stale Fritos and empty beer bottles and threw the
bundle into the nearest corner chair. He
then cleared the bed next to his and spread out a clean blanket and our own
sleeping bags before he put down any of his clothing and gear. I did the same. In a few minutes we were outside and climbed
into an old Ford Bronco which was running in the driveway with Norfleet in the
passenger side and two men in the backseat. The driver seat was empty. I thought it was for the designated driver
but it appears that when Jake arrives he always drives. I learned much later that this was probably a
very good idea and kept most of us alive.
More beer was passed around and we started down one of the
trails leading away from the house. Just
as we entered the woods at sunset another car pulled into the driveway it was a
late model Ford or Chevy, looked very clean and somehow out of place. A small, thin, nervous young man jumped out
of the car, waved his hands excitedly at us and ran over to Jake’s window. I
heard a collective groan from everyone in the Bronco and the words “Oh Shit, we
are too late! Keith’s here!”
“Hi guys! Hi Jake!
Hows Valerie and the kids?”
“Shut-up Keith and get in the God damn truck if you are
coming!” (this was from all four men in
the Bronco)
“OK guys! Just wait a minute until I change and I’ll be
right back”
More shit and goddamnits and beer later, Keith returns with
an obviously new or recently laundered Eddie Bauer down vest in Mossy Oak Camo, with
matching zippered pants and an orange hat.
I get out, Norfleet gets out of the passenger seat, shoves Keith into
the middle seat in the back and offers me his spot riding shotgun with
Jake. By now, it is getting dark so
Jake turns on the one headlight and the one, opposite, foglight as well as the
light bar (with 2 of 4 lights out) and we roared off into the dark down one of the many trails made just wide enough for an ATV or one truck...
to be continued - stopped
here on 11/11/14 at 7 am - FTC
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