Coon Hunt'n with Larry

Not long after my wife and I were married and settled in Moore County, I started looking for places to deer and coon hunt. I can't really remember who helped me make the connection, but some time during the fall of 1995 I was introduced to my buddy Larry Robbins. Larry was a bit older than me (I was 23)  and and from what I understand, he had been medically retired from the state for some time due to an on the job accident that left him with a serious back injury. Larry was the type of guy that never met a stranger and could hold a conversation with most anyone. He, his wife Kinza and his son Kim are the type of folks my Dad would call "Salt of the Earth" type folks.

Larry on one of his many hunting trips, just being Larry

Larry and I coon hunted and fished together for several years until my wife and I moved further away and life, as it often does, got busy. Where I am from, Larry was what we would call "a Character." He was kind of loud and spoke with a kind of rough tone. He was extremely funny even if he wasn't trying to be. He just had a no nonsense, country way of thinking and I found easy to be around him. One thing was for certain, you always knew where you stood with him or his opinion on any given subject. Some folks see that as a character flaw, but I see it as a desirable attribute.  He always had a story to tell, and most of them were 90% true. He would tell tales of traveling out West with his wife and son and there was always a good hunting or fishing story to tell. There are many stories of my own I could tell about our "adventures" together and I could probably fill a few chapters of that book I'm always talking about writing, but we will focus on this story of "Coon hunt'n with Larry."

Modern day coon hunting is not really about hunting and killing coons. The hides are worth some money, but not much at all. During coon season, we would kill a few and take them to a fur buyer that we knew and usually come away with a little money for gas and dog food. There is no real money to be made in selling coon hides or meat. Coon hunting is about dogs, hounds to be exact. Today's coon hunter is more interested in having a good working dog than a freezer full of raccoon hides.

My girl Gypsy

I had a young female Treeing Walker Coon Hound that I loved named Gypsy that was a decent coon dog of good breeding and Larry had one or two fine hounds but the one I remember was a Walker female named Dolly. The way it worked with us is we would find a suitable area and turn our hounds out. When the dogs would find the trail of a raccoon, they would bark and this is known as a "strike." When they would get closer they would open a bit more and where to be considered "running" the coon. When coons are pursued by the hounds they will eventually climb a tree and are considered "treed."
This all sounds quite simple and just seeing it in written form, sounds quite boring, but the sound of the hounds treeing deep in a swamp or in open "oak'y woods" (Larry's term) is absolute music to a southern boy's ears. This music is only rivaled only by bear hounds running and treeing and a close third by deer hounds running. The next step is to make your way in to the tree and if it is coon season to shoot the coon out of the tree with a .22 caliber rifle or hand gun. There is a catch to all of this. The raccoon is a sly, quick and cunning little critter and can fool the hounds and hunter quite often. They can climb into a hollow tree (den tree). Another thing they a are notorious for doing is fooling young inexperienced hounds by "tapping" a tree. That is to say the little fur ball will climb into a tree and jump into another, then another and then another and climb down a good bit away from the treed hound and escape. Dolly and Gypsy made a fine team and most of the time, if we went to a tree, there would be eyes glowing in the treetop when we would "shine" the tree. (the act of shining a light in the tree to locate Mr. Coon)


Larry knew everyone in the Northern part of the county and who owned what land and who hunted or fished it. He had more connections than a switchboard operator. One connection was Mr. Grover. This gentleman and his family own a good bit of farm land that consisted of  more than a few fields, big open woods filled with oaks, and large creek and an old mill pond. If you know anything at all about hunting you will recognize that these conditions are prime hunting land for many game animals, but we were there for one purpose... coon hunting.

Whenever we would hunt at Mr. Grover's we would always stop by and let him know we were going to be on his place. Mr. Grover was an older gentleman (70's or 80's ?)  that always enjoyed it when we would stop and talk a little while before we would head out. If we where hunting close to his house, (and if he wasn't out on a date with his "girl friend" or at Wednesday night prayer meeting at church)  he would sit out on the porch and listen to the hounds. Larry and I hunted quite a few places around our area, but I think Mr. Grover's place was my favorite.

The most memorable of our hunts at Mr. Grover's was Sept. 5th 1996. I remember that date so well because it was the night before Hurricane Fran hit North Carolina. We were aware of the approaching storm but no one had any idea of the devastating effects it would have. I had to work my 24 hour shift as a Paramedic with EMS the next day and knew if the storm got bad, we would be very busy, but.... we just couldn't pass up hunting that night because we knew that hunting the leading edge of that big of a low pressure system could be epic. We were not wrong.

The first "turn out" was at the saw mill Grover's nephew, Alvin operated on this farm. If I recollect, the hounds struck within less than a minute after taking them off the leash (lead). A very quick and loud chase followed and both hounds treed within five minutes or less. We assumed that the dogs were treeing the same coon together, but we were mistaken. After a short walk through the big timber,  we could see Gypsy treed on a huge ancient oak by herself and Dolly treed on an equally large gum tree. Larry made the remark, "Let's see who's lying here." As it turns out, neither dog was "lying," they both had coons treed. The sounds coming out of those woods that night still ring in my mind every time I step into the woods at night. We reached our dogs at roughly the same time and tied them back. I shined Gypsy's tree to find not one but two coons looking back at me. I called over to my good friend and hunting buddy to brag a bit, only to have him say, "well lookie here." I walked over and shined the light fastened to my hat up Dolly's tree to find 3 sets of eyes shining back. We were correct in assuming that the approaching low pressure system would have game animals out moving and feeding as they will often do with a storm looming.

We made two more turn outs that night and had similar results. All total that night we made 4 trees and looked at 8 coons. We decided after those three successful hunts, we wouldn't push our luck with what would promise to be a long few days ahead of us and called it a night. I was even home before midnight. Not too shabby considering in early September it doesn't get dark in North Carolina until after 8pm. Looking back, this was one of my favorite outings with my buddy Larry and we never fired a shot. Actual coon season would not start for roughly over a month so we were just hunting to hear the dogs run, as would often do during the off season. We hunted many a night like this that we wouldn't even have a gun in the woods with us. It was just about being in the woods, hearing our hounds work and just hanging out together.

I have had the privilege hunting and fishing with some awesome folks in my 44 years. I have made some of the best friends on the water in the woods. Some of the best times spent with my Dad and my own Son have been in the outdoors. I have very few regrets but if I had to pick one major regret in life, it is that I don't keep up with the good friends and family in my life as well as I should. This is one of the biggest of my many flaws. It had been quite some time since I had spoken with Larry when his son Kim called and shared the news of his passing and that drove this point home for me.

I honestly don't have any bad memories of hanging out with him. Almost every thought brings a smile to my face or laughter to the air. Even on the way to his wake my wife Angela and I laughed until we cried and our sides hurt at a "Larry Story" I was telling her. I have thought a lot about my old friend lately. Larry left us last Christmas and I hope where he is at has big open "oak'y" woods with fresh, shallow running streams to hunt. Maybe where his is the dogs never "slick tree" and our best hounds never get old.

Me and my first coon hound "Darlin" 

Gypsy as a puppy with a buddy of mine's prize winning dog Bandit