Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls Page A
Authors: Wilson Rawls
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Children's Books, People & Places, Classics, Juvenile Fiction, YA), Children's Fiction, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Social Issues, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Animals, Friendship, Adventure stories, Dogs, Oklahoma, Boys & Men, Animals - Dogs, Social Issues - General, blind, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, Children: Grades 2-3, General (see also headings under Family), General fiction (Children's, Ozark Mountains
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leave the tree. If I do, the coon will get away."
"No, he won't," Grandpa said. "That's what I came down here for. I'll show you how to keep that coon in the tree."
He walked around the big sycamore, looking up. He whistled and said, "Boy, this is a big one all right."
"Yes, it is, Grandpa," I said. "It's the biggest one in the river bottoms."
Grandpa started chuckling. "That's all right," he said. "The bigger they are the harder they fall."
"How are you going to make the coon stay in the tree, Grandpa?" I asked.
With a proud look on his face, he said, "That's another one of my coon-hunting tricks; learned it when I was a boy. We'll keep him there all right. Oh, I don't mean we can keep him there for always, but he'll stay for four or five days. That is, until he gets so hungry he just has to come down."
"I don't need that much time," I said. "I'm pretty sure I can have it down by tomorrow night."
Grandpa looked at the cut. "I don't know," he said. "Even though it is halfway down, you must remember you've been cutting on it half of one night and one day. You might make it, but it's going to take a lot of chopping."
"If I get a good night's sleep," I said, "and a couple of meals under my belt, I can do a lot of chopping."
Grandpa laughed. "Speaking of meals," he said, "your ma is having chicken and dumplings for supper. Now we don't want to miss that, so let's get busy."
"What do you want me to do, Grandpa?" I asked.
"Well, let's see," he said. "First thing we'll need is some sticks about five feet long. Take your ax, go over in that canebrake, and get us six of them."
I hurried to do what Grandpa wanted, all the time wondering what in the world he was going to do. How could he keep the coon in the tree?
When I came back, he was taking some old clothes from the buggy, "Take this stocking cap," he said. "Fill it about half-full of grass and leaves."
While I was doing this, Grandpa walked over and started looking up in the tree. "You're pretty sure he's in that hollow limb, are you?" he asked.
"He's there all right, Grandpa," I said. "There's no other place he could be. I've looked all over it and there's no other hollow anywhere."
"Well, in that case," Grandpa said, "we'd better put our man along about here."
"What man, Grandpa?" I asked in surprise.
"The one we're going to make," he said. "To us it'll be a scarecrow, but to that coon it'll be a man."
Knowing too well how smart coons were, right away I began to lose confidence. "I don't see how anything like that can keep a. coon in a tree," I said.
"It'll keep him there all right," Grandpa said. "Like I told you before, they're curious little devils. Hell poke his head out of that hole, see this man standing here, and he won't dare come down. It'll take him four or five days to figure out that it isn't a real honest-to-goodness man. By that time it'll be too late. You'll have his hide tacked on the smokehouse wall."
The more I thought about it, the more I believed it, and then there was that serious look on Grandpa's face. That was all it took. I was firmly convinced.
I started laughing. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. Great big laughing tears rolled down my cheek.
"What's so funny?" Grandpa asked. "Don't you believe it'll work?"
"Sure it'll work, Grandpa," I said. "I know it will.
I was just thinking-those coons aren't half as smart as they think they are, are they?"
We both had a good laugh at this.
With the sticks and some bailing wire, Grandpa made a frame that looked almost like a gingerbread man. On this he put an old pair of pants and a red sweater. We stuffed the loose flabby clothes with grass and leaves. He wired the stocking-cap head in place and stepped back to inspect his work.
"Well, what do
"No, he won't," Grandpa said. "That's what I came down here for. I'll show you how to keep that coon in the tree."
He walked around the big sycamore, looking up. He whistled and said, "Boy, this is a big one all right."
"Yes, it is, Grandpa," I said. "It's the biggest one in the river bottoms."
Grandpa started chuckling. "That's all right," he said. "The bigger they are the harder they fall."
"How are you going to make the coon stay in the tree, Grandpa?" I asked.
With a proud look on his face, he said, "That's another one of my coon-hunting tricks; learned it when I was a boy. We'll keep him there all right. Oh, I don't mean we can keep him there for always, but he'll stay for four or five days. That is, until he gets so hungry he just has to come down."
"I don't need that much time," I said. "I'm pretty sure I can have it down by tomorrow night."
Grandpa looked at the cut. "I don't know," he said. "Even though it is halfway down, you must remember you've been cutting on it half of one night and one day. You might make it, but it's going to take a lot of chopping."
"If I get a good night's sleep," I said, "and a couple of meals under my belt, I can do a lot of chopping."
Grandpa laughed. "Speaking of meals," he said, "your ma is having chicken and dumplings for supper. Now we don't want to miss that, so let's get busy."
"What do you want me to do, Grandpa?" I asked.
"Well, let's see," he said. "First thing we'll need is some sticks about five feet long. Take your ax, go over in that canebrake, and get us six of them."
I hurried to do what Grandpa wanted, all the time wondering what in the world he was going to do. How could he keep the coon in the tree?
When I came back, he was taking some old clothes from the buggy, "Take this stocking cap," he said. "Fill it about half-full of grass and leaves."
While I was doing this, Grandpa walked over and started looking up in the tree. "You're pretty sure he's in that hollow limb, are you?" he asked.
"He's there all right, Grandpa," I said. "There's no other place he could be. I've looked all over it and there's no other hollow anywhere."
"Well, in that case," Grandpa said, "we'd better put our man along about here."
"What man, Grandpa?" I asked in surprise.
"The one we're going to make," he said. "To us it'll be a scarecrow, but to that coon it'll be a man."
Knowing too well how smart coons were, right away I began to lose confidence. "I don't see how anything like that can keep a. coon in a tree," I said.
"It'll keep him there all right," Grandpa said. "Like I told you before, they're curious little devils. Hell poke his head out of that hole, see this man standing here, and he won't dare come down. It'll take him four or five days to figure out that it isn't a real honest-to-goodness man. By that time it'll be too late. You'll have his hide tacked on the smokehouse wall."
The more I thought about it, the more I believed it, and then there was that serious look on Grandpa's face. That was all it took. I was firmly convinced.
I started laughing. The more I thought about it, the funnier it got. Great big laughing tears rolled down my cheek.
"What's so funny?" Grandpa asked. "Don't you believe it'll work?"
"Sure it'll work, Grandpa," I said. "I know it will.
I was just thinking-those coons aren't half as smart as they think they are, are they?"
We both had a good laugh at this.
With the sticks and some bailing wire, Grandpa made a frame that looked almost like a gingerbread man. On this he put an old pair of pants and a red sweater. We stuffed the loose flabby clothes with grass and leaves. He wired the stocking-cap head in place and stepped back to inspect his work.
"Well, what do
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