RANCH LIFE IN CALIFORNIA 



OTTO FRODUL. 



In the spring of '91 we moved to a farm 

 South of Visalia, Cal. Our family con- 

 sisted of my brother, his wife, and me, 

 with our 2 dogs, Nero and a greyhound. 

 Nero was a cross between English setter 

 and St. Bernard, and was an intelligent, 

 faithful and courageous dog. 



A bayou of Elk river flowed through 

 our ranch not far from the house, and in 

 spring, when the snows melted on the 

 mountains, this became quite a, stream, 

 though at other times an insignificant af- 

 fair. In the spring of '91 it was more than 

 usually swollen. 



Soon after coming to the farm we no- 

 ticed that our poultry diminished rapidly, 

 and found a multitude of tracks in the 

 path, resembling the impression made by a 

 baby's foot. Often, at night, Nero's bark- 

 ing announced the work of the thief, but 

 we did not know it. 



One afternoon when Nero and a boy 

 named Fred, who lived near, were prowl- 

 ing along the banks of the bayou, Nero 

 suddenly announced game in a hole in 

 the bank and quickly yanked out an 

 animal which proved to be a coon, our 

 depredator. A furious fight took place in 

 the water, sometimes Zip on top and 

 sometimes Nero. At last, however, Nero 

 got the upper hold, dragged his enemy 

 out and dispatched him. A prouder dog 

 never lived. His scars, and they were 

 many and deep, were forgotten in the 

 glory of the victory. He followed t:_> the 

 house at the heels of the man who carried 

 his victim. The coon weighed 31 pounds, 

 the largest I have ever seen 



Nero soon developed into a fine hunter, 

 pnd we made it hot for coons and badgers. 

 Indeed, Nero taught me to hunt. The 

 greyhound, in daytime, devoted most of his 

 energies to rabbits, but at night Nero went 

 for more important game. Coyotes they 

 would bark at and sometimes chase, but 

 they did not seem to want to catch them. 



Coons furnished us much pastime, and 

 we caught and killed a great many. They 

 are crafty depredators, hard to circumvent, 

 hard to kill, harder to trap. They were 

 usually caught, or shot, in the trees on the 

 river bank. One would sometimes leap 

 into the water from the tree. Then there 

 was a naval battle, for Nero would in- 

 stantly plunge in and the conflict would 

 take place there. The resn 1 t was always 

 the same. Nero's powerful jaws would 

 soon settle Zip's hash. 



On one occasion the coon perched him- 

 self far out on a limb. I shot him with 

 salt, instead of shot, so as not to kill him. 



We wanted a fight. He sprang from the 

 tree and came to the ground with a fright- 

 ful thump within 6 feet of my sister-in- 

 law, who was an interested spectator. 

 Then, what a fight! We, brother and I, 

 2 dogs, a coon and a woman, running, 

 charging, shouting, growling, shrieking, 

 snarling! It was a circus. 



On a subsequent occasion Nero made a 

 great noise in the night. My brother was 

 shut in with a broken leg, and Jessie, his 

 wife, taking a revolver, went out to see 

 what was up. Bang followed bang, and 

 brother called to me to go quickly and see 

 what Jessie was killing. She shot till she 

 emptied the revolver; then I brought him 

 down with the rifle, a coon. He weighed 

 27 pounds ! 



One fine morning, along with a neighbor 

 boy, I treed game in a great willow by the 

 river. A small hole 5 feet from the ground 

 and another 12 feet high indicated coons. 

 From the snarling when a stick was 

 punched into the lower opening, I con- 

 cluded there was more than one coon, 

 so we proceeded to catch some of them 

 in a sack. Cutting a hole near the ground 

 and enlarging the hole 5 feet high, I built 

 a smudge in the hollow, to smoke them 

 out. Clarence held 'a sack over the lower 

 hole. I fired up the smudge and watched 

 the upper opening. The mother and one 

 child escaped. The father I shot. Nero 

 killed 2 children, we caught one in the 

 sack and took one from Nero crushed so 

 it died in a few hours. Out of 7 only 2 

 escaped. With Nero's assistance, I have 

 killed more than 100 coons, one of which 

 weighed a little more than 30 pounds. 



The young are born in spring, from 4 to 

 6 at a litter. In a few months these are 

 able to go hunting with their poor but dis- 

 honest parents. They eat frogs, fish, mice, 

 crawfish, birds, chickens, eggs, ducks, even 

 turkeys, and have a fine taste for fruit. 

 They are gourmands, as well as epicures. 

 Average weight seems to be 24 to 26 

 pounds. 



Hunting one day near the river, the dogs 

 ran something into a big hole in the earth. 

 Removing my coat, I protected one hand 

 with a sleeve and thrust in to haul the 

 game out. A sharp bite and a lacerated 

 hand were the results. Nero then dug rap- 

 idly in and dragged out the game — a bad- 

 ger! Each had a grip on the other's 

 mouth, but after a fierce fight Nero fin- 

 ished him, coming out of the battle with 

 several honorable scars. 



Evidently the victim had been driven to 

 earth short of his own home, for there 

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