Incident at Seminole Canyon

     In the late eighties or early nineties, Hugh Ruggles and I decided to have a father/son deer hunt.   My son Paul was fourteen and had never been deer hunting.  Hugh’s son Mac was eleven and had only been once or twice.  We decided the trip would be a good time to do some father-son bonding, so we set it up.

     Understand that I am not a hunter—I didn’t get that gene.  I do enjoy getting out in the woods, close to nature with the boys, but I don’t care anything about shooting creatures.  When I go on a trip like this, I keep the coffee pot on the fire, make chili or stew and generally try to make myself useful.  My son Paul, however, thoroughly enjoys all aspects of hunting and I wanted him to have the opportunity.

   Hugh is an avid outdoorsman---hunting, fishing, you name it, and he loves it.  He has all the gear for any kind of trip, in any kind of weather.  He had a trailer built to carry all his gear with a platform on top to carry a four wheeler.  He has a big generator to make electricity and about a hundred yards of heavy extension cord.  That way, he can put the generator way out in the woods so the noise doesn’t disturb us.



Paleface Paul and Candy Mac



     John Cupit, the third father in the group, enjoys hunting, but would rather sit around the camp and drink beer.  He is also a great camp cook.  His stepson, Scott, was eighteen at the time and an experienced hunter.  Scott also packed and drove the van with Hugh’s excess gear in it.  It was amazing how much that boy could get in a van.  The whole crew was easy to get along with and fun to be around.  We all enjoyed the trip.

     Hugh had a 4000 acre deer lease in Val Verde County.  The southern boundary was Highway 90 and the western boundary was the Pecos River.  Some of you will know that the high bridge over the Pecos is there, at the southwest corner of Hugh’s lease.  It is magnificent country---different than Lubbock but still Texas---at its remote and rugged best.

    During the hunt, Hugh got two deer and Mac got one.  Paul didn’t get a shot at a deer, but did shoot a Javalina that charged him out of the brush.  I was proud of Paul.  He stood his ground, aimed carefully and coolly shot the hog in the head.  Many kids his age might have panicked and been hurt.

     I wrote the following poem to commemorate our trip.  I had forgotten about it until recently, when Mac Ruggles, (Candy Mac in the poem), sent it to me.  It is not classic poetry but more like “Lubbock Boy” poetry.  It tells a story and every other line more or less rhymes.  I don’t know anything about cadence or iambic pentameter or any of that stuff.  If I did, I probably wouldn’t try to write poetry.  Too many rules take the fun out of anything. 

Enjoy---

                                                            INCIDENT AT SEMINOLE CANYON

They came from all 'round Texas
To meet on that barren ridge.
Next to the Peco River
A  mile north of the high bridge.

Pancake John and his boy Scottie
Packed in from old San Antone.

The Cabello Kid and Candy Mac
 Rode down from their Kerrville home.

Paleface Paul and Camo Jim came
Over from their place in West U.

A tougher bunch of  cowhands

Never rode for any crew

Cabello built their tent for comfort

Just like a high rise condo
With bedrooms, a fireplace and den,

The finest digs west of Hondo.

Pancake John did all the cooking
Camo Jim gathered the wood.

The other four came to hunt---

They all did the best they could.

The Kid was first out in the morning

As the sun came thru the skylight.
He mounted his trusty four wheeler
Left the carport and drove out of sight.

Candy Mac was chewing on mints

Paul was looking quite pale.
Camo and Scottie were telling lies,
And Pancake was sipping an ale.

Cabello was back in a minute
A buck strapped across his new rig.

Pancake hung it in the cooler
The rest of the gang danced a jig.

The boys were all excited,
They struck out right after brunch
To harvest the king of the whitetails,
And be back in time for lunch.

The Cabello Kid was first to return

With another buck on his cart
He was grinning from ear to ear

He'd shot that buck thru the heart.

Candy Mac showed up a while later
Stuffing butterscotch between his teeth.
He was draging a little four-pointer

And breathing a sigh of relief.

Then the cowboys all heard it---

A sound so harsh to the ear
It froze their brains in mortal pain
And filled their souls with fear.

The sound moved thru the compound
Past the hot tub and across the fountain.
It shattered the peace of the morning.
And echoed back from the mountain.

There was no doubt about the sound

Even Paleface knew that noise.

The dreaded Razoobuc was afoot,

And coming to deal with the boys.

The Razoobuc is mean as an in-law,
And fast as a flood in a ditch.
With horns, claws, and tusks like sabers

An all around bad son-a-bitch.

The boys were not sitting idle

As they braced for the attack.
Scottie was honing his knives;

And Camo was hiding out back.

Cabello and Paleface loaded the rifles
Pancake opened a fresh can of brew.
Candy Mac finished off a fruitcake,
And wondered what else he should do.

The stampede came over the ridge
A-snorting, with blood in their eyes.
They barrelled headlong thru the cactus

O’er the plains and up the last rise.

The cowboy’s fire was deadly

The Razoobucs plunged on ahead.

The herd parted at the last instant

Split by the bodies of the dead.

Candy Mac shot down a dozen,

The Cabello Kid got eleven or so

Paleface picked off nine mean ones,

And Scottie got ten on the go.

As the stampede went into the canyon

And out of sight toward the rear,

Camo Jim came from under the bed,

And Pancake John opened a beer.

The camp was saved from a wipeout

By quick wits and deadly aim.

The cowboys will go on living

But none will ever be the same.

The Razoobucs were too stringy to eat

Their hide much too tough to cut.

The smell would make a strong man puke

If ever he cut open their gut.

The boys just left them 'a laying

And piled their gear on the sand.

Then watched in total amazement

As Scottie put it all in the van.

They rented a room in Del Rio

Not as nice as the camp, but tough luck.

It was better than out on the prairie

At the mercy of the cruel Razoobuc.

They each took an oath of silence

Before they headed back to their homes.

The events of this disasterous trip

Will be buried with their bones.

Now, out in Valverde County

Peace reigns o're the rugged plains.

Except sometimes, when the moon is full

Mournful sounds can't be explained. 

                                                                    Jim McLaughlin