This post contains graphic commentary and very disturbing imagery. If you are easily disturbed I would seriously consider skipping this post
This is part 2 in the series of how I came to become TBA
- A “woof”
I could feel each bump in the back of my legs, back, and neck as the 1974 Ford F250 4×4 Truck (no one in Bristol said Pickup under the age of 50) bounced along the rows in the Bristol bottoms. These river bottoms were the places where people went Woof Huntin’ or Keye-oat (coyote) Huntin’. There were no wolves in the Bristol Bottoms but woof huntin’ was what we kids called coyote hunting because to a kid a coyote looked a lot like a wolf. To the adults with the spotlights, coyotes looked like easy prey. [Read more...]
