The night is cool and crisp. The harvest moon aglow. The hounds are baying and nervous and ready to start the show.
The coons are out of their dens and searching for food by night. Uncle Buck releases the hounds and lights his carbide light.
Pluto is in the lead and a better red bone is not found. His trophy’s at the field trials lets this king bear a crown.
He soon finds the trail and the other hounds will follow. The trail takes them through the woods, up hills and down the hollows.
The baying of the hounds soon tell with Pluto in the lead. And Uncle Buck says that the hounds are on the scent and it won’t be long till Mr. Coon is treed
We run, trip and fall through the bush to the baying of the hounds. The darkness of the night is great but we manage to follow the sounds
We soon arrive and find the hounds on their hind legs barking up the tree. My eyes look upward and the light reveals two eyes glowing at me.
The climax soon will come as I boldly hold the light. Because Uncle Buck has Mr. Coon in his rifle sights.
As we head home the stories are told and Uncle Buck is at his best. The hounds are in the back knowing they also passed the test.
I will never forget those simple days of feeling natures attraction. And Uncle Buck setting the stage to compliment our satisfaction
He was born of the earth and a kinder man I know you would not find. His stories were simple and made you laugh but always had a lesson in mind
On a quiet night with the moon aglow, I think of that old deed. And I think I can still hear in the distance, Pluto barking treed