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Coyote Hunting - From 10 Yards to over 1,000 Yards
Ramblings and Such From Hunting Coyote
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<blockquote data-quote="DMP25-06" data-source="post: 1987446" data-attributes="member: 27271"><p>I grew-up in Fort Worth , Texas , in an area named Diamond Hill , which was just north of the Fort Worth Stock Yards , which was one of the 3 largest stock yards and slaughter/packing house centers in the USA , up into the mid 1970's , when the Swift Meat Packing plant burned-down . Armour Meats had a slaughter house/packing plant that was there until it burned in the 1960's . </p><p></p><p>We lived about 1.5 miles north of the packing houses , and from 1960 - 1963 , my brothers and best friends and I would walk from our homes down to the 28th St. overpass that ran east-west on the north edge of the cattle and stock pens , to hunt pigeons with our BB guns . The pigeons roosted in the steel structure under-belly of the overpass . The overpass spanned a railroad switching yard where trains were constantly bringing livestock into the stockyards and trains were departing with refrigerated boxcars with hanging and processed meats . </p><p>With the constant railroad traffic to and from the slaughter houses , and the 4 times per day passenger trains that came through at 60+ MPH , it was a dangerous area fo boys that ranged from 9 - 16 years of age , not to mention the Hobos who jumped onto freight trains to travel throughout the country back then . But we had our BB guns to protect ourselves .</p><p></p><p>We would shoot numerous pigeons , and many of them we would give to the men who lived there in the "Hobo Jungle" , a shanty-town of wooden moving crates where the transients resided . The men living there were grateful for the meat that they would add to their pots of "Hobo Stew" as they called it . </p><p>We always carried pigeons home with us , that we would clean and keep the breasts , that my Grandmother, Mammy , as she liked to be called , would cook for us .</p><p>We also brought pigeons to my best friends home , where Mrs. H would cook them for us .</p><p></p><p>One day as we were leaving the pigeon hunt at the bridge ( what we called the overpass ), Frankie H. and Mike H. , the 2 oldest members of our pigeon slayers decided that the walk home was too long , so the 2 of them decided to get on a slow-moving north-bound freight train with the intention of hopping off the boxcar when it was near their home . </p><p>Well their free-ride was moving much too fast to jump out-of when it passed their intended exit point , so they were in for a ride . </p><p>When their youngest brother James H. and I had walked back to Mrs.H's home , Frankie and Mike were not there . Nobody had any idea as to where they might be . All of us were scared as to what might have happened , but about 7:30 PM that evening , the Wise County Sheriff's Department telephoned to Mrs. H's landlord ( not all homes had telephones back then , there were only 2 homes that had telephones on our street ) . Frankie and Mike were "rescued" from that north-bound train some 40 miles north of where we lived by the Sheriffs Dept. vehicles stopping the train when someone reported seeing 2 boys screaming HELP while hanging out the open door of the boxcar .</p><p></p><p>Mr. and Mrs. H. , greatly relieved to know that their sons were safe , drove to Decatur , Texas , to the Sheriff's Department to retrieve their sons .</p><p>Neither of my 2 friends could sit down for 2 weeks .</p><p></p><p>A good ending to what could have been a tragic happening .</p><p></p><p>DMP25-06</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="DMP25-06, post: 1987446, member: 27271"] I grew-up in Fort Worth , Texas , in an area named Diamond Hill , which was just north of the Fort Worth Stock Yards , which was one of the 3 largest stock yards and slaughter/packing house centers in the USA , up into the mid 1970's , when the Swift Meat Packing plant burned-down . Armour Meats had a slaughter house/packing plant that was there until it burned in the 1960's . We lived about 1.5 miles north of the packing houses , and from 1960 - 1963 , my brothers and best friends and I would walk from our homes down to the 28th St. overpass that ran east-west on the north edge of the cattle and stock pens , to hunt pigeons with our BB guns . The pigeons roosted in the steel structure under-belly of the overpass . The overpass spanned a railroad switching yard where trains were constantly bringing livestock into the stockyards and trains were departing with refrigerated boxcars with hanging and processed meats . With the constant railroad traffic to and from the slaughter houses , and the 4 times per day passenger trains that came through at 60+ MPH , it was a dangerous area fo boys that ranged from 9 - 16 years of age , not to mention the Hobos who jumped onto freight trains to travel throughout the country back then . But we had our BB guns to protect ourselves . We would shoot numerous pigeons , and many of them we would give to the men who lived there in the "Hobo Jungle" , a shanty-town of wooden moving crates where the transients resided . The men living there were grateful for the meat that they would add to their pots of "Hobo Stew" as they called it . We always carried pigeons home with us , that we would clean and keep the breasts , that my Grandmother, Mammy , as she liked to be called , would cook for us . We also brought pigeons to my best friends home , where Mrs. H would cook them for us . One day as we were leaving the pigeon hunt at the bridge ( what we called the overpass ), Frankie H. and Mike H. , the 2 oldest members of our pigeon slayers decided that the walk home was too long , so the 2 of them decided to get on a slow-moving north-bound freight train with the intention of hopping off the boxcar when it was near their home . Well their free-ride was moving much too fast to jump out-of when it passed their intended exit point , so they were in for a ride . When their youngest brother James H. and I had walked back to Mrs.H's home , Frankie and Mike were not there . Nobody had any idea as to where they might be . All of us were scared as to what might have happened , but about 7:30 PM that evening , the Wise County Sheriff's Department telephoned to Mrs. H's landlord ( not all homes had telephones back then , there were only 2 homes that had telephones on our street ) . Frankie and Mike were "rescued" from that north-bound train some 40 miles north of where we lived by the Sheriffs Dept. vehicles stopping the train when someone reported seeing 2 boys screaming HELP while hanging out the open door of the boxcar . Mr. and Mrs. H. , greatly relieved to know that their sons were safe , drove to Decatur , Texas , to the Sheriff's Department to retrieve their sons . Neither of my 2 friends could sit down for 2 weeks . A good ending to what could have been a tragic happening . DMP25-06 [/QUOTE]
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