THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 19, 1994 TAG: 9406170201
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 09 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY LEONA C. LILLEY, CORRESPONDENT
DATELINE: 940619 LENGTH: Medium
Farming, hunting, fishing, trapping and carpentry were the main occupations. Families worked together, and native islanders made up most of the population. Today, modern technology, machinery, etc., have taken over. Lifestyles have changed. But those established by the island's forefathers will remain an important part of Knotts Island's history.
{REST} To those men who labored by the sweat of their brow, off the land and water, to ensure their families the very best life possible, the following recollections are dedicated.
Told many years ago by my father, Roy Cooper, who was born in 1903, the stories are evidence of the rugged lifestyle of most island fathers who lived in those bygone years.
At an early age, my father wished for a real shotgun. Instead, his older brothers made rabbit boxes and helped him set them on ditch banks and in brambles. They loaned him steel traps for catching muskrats and raccoons. This was the beginning of his lifelong hobby and career.
In the early days, in the mornings, he and his dog, Jack, would scamper off to tend the traps before it was time to go to school. After school, he would hurry to the general store. Over his shoulder, he carried the morning's catch in a burlap bag. Island merchants paid a standing price of 10 cents for rabbits and 50 cents for raccoons.
As he grew, having served his apprenticeship, he was ready for greater responsibilities. He branched out into the ``crippled ducking'' business. ``Crippled ducking'' was searching the edges of the shores and marshes for ducks and geese that had been wounded by the big-time hunters and had strayed away. The hunters didn't think they were worth going after, but to the beginners, each one was valued.
``Papa made me a birdin' club,'' he said. (A birding club was a stick heavy enough to kill the crippled birds.) ``Mama gave me eight cents to buy some gun shells. (They cost about a penny apiece) And Papa let me use his shotgun. I was told to save my shells whenever I could. If I used all my shells and didn't bring home any game, I wouldn't be allowed another chance until next season.
``After a lot of thought, I came up with a way to save my shells,'' he said. ``If I could shove my boat close enough to the bird to hit him with my club, I could save a shell. My plan worked. With them eight shells, my birdin' club and gun I was able to bag seven ducks. I was mighty proud when I got home and showed Mama and Papa what I had done.''
He had a favorite place in the Knotts Island marsh. He called it ``The Creeks.'' He described it as a place where one could stand and watch nature at work. ``If you look carefully and quietlike,'' he explained, ``you can see muskrats scooting through the marsh and into their beds or a raccoon peering at you from the branches of a tree.''
His study of wildlife and nature was a source of material for many stories that made his life and experiences so unique.
``Once as I approached a 'coon trap. I saw that I had a nice catch. He was alive and trying hard to get out of the trap. When he saw me, he became very still. I raised my club to hit him. When I did, he looked up at me. I could see the pain and fear in his beady, little eyes. Then as if to ask for mercy, he lifted his front paw. I couldn't hit him. I knew I was losing some good money, but I released that raccoon to get lost again in the wild,'' he said.
``One time I was deep in the marsh tending my traps. I noticed smoke way over on the way side. It didn't bother me none. I figured it would just burn itself out. Suddenly, the wind shifted and started to blowing. Before I realized it, sparks were falling all around me. Little fires were springing up everywhere. I was trapped! I could think of only one thing,'' he said. ``I just prayed it would work. I felt in my pocket for my matches. they were there. I set a fire and stood aside until it burned about 12 feet in diameter. Then I wet my jacket in the mud, put it over me and leaped through the fire to the spot that had already burned. The fire that I set was burning away from me, but those hotter ones were burning towards me. I stooped to the ground with my muddy jacket over me and stayed there. I could hear the crackling and snapping of the oncoming fire. I sure was scared! In a few minutes it was over. The two fires met and burned out and I wasn't a bit sorry.''
My father worked as a hunting guide, as well as making decoys for clubs in Back Bay and on Knotts Island for many years before his death.
by CNB