A Great Wolf Hunt

From the Meriden Ledger, December 13, 1901

By “Nimrod” 

Last Thursday witnessed a wolf hunt in our vicinity the like of which has not been seen in many a day — a genuine old fashioned hunt* — with horses and hounds and guns and hunters galore. Lafe Crane, who lives on the old Jim Martin place, reported that a large pack of hungry wolves were roaming about his farm and Upper Muddy [creek], killing dogs, throttling live stock and frightening women and children out of their wits. No sooner was this interesting information received in Meriden than a hunt was planned and the extermination of these ferocious beasts determined on. Word was sent to all the hunters in this and surrounding neighborhoods and truly it was a goodly assemblage that met on Thursday morning armed and loaded for the fray. Bob Wilkerson and Bill Hutchinson put their shooting irons in order, wiping out the rust that had accumulated since the convict hunt. Al Mitchell and Jimmy Boyer double shotted their pieces and skirmished out in advance on foot. Will Seal and Irve McQuilkin moved out to the right flank as far as Chris Martin’s where their horse fell sick and they gave up the fight. Chet Peebler was ready to go but his bird dog was under the porch scratching off fleas and would not come out, so Chet did not get on the firing line. Orb Frost got Charley McCoy’s best running horse in good trim and otherwise assisted in the rear. Ed Reed came up the night before with all but thirteen of his fine collection of dogs and hounds. Among them were the famous Pot hounds, Boozer and Snoozer. These are the two dogs for which Ed traded his last cow — so the wicked Popssay — Word was sent to George O’Brien and it was hoped he would come so as to give a truthful report of the affair afterward; but he had an engagement nursing a case of small-pox (the wild woman) and was unable to be present: hence the meagerness of this brief and bare account. In the absence of George O’Brien, George Richards was asked to report the affair and will probably do so later. Bill Sniggers, the famous hunter of Stink Creek was also unable to come. He was busy rounding up his children from the hazel brush for the winter, but he sent seventeen of his best dogs which partly atoned for his absence. All the dogs were collected the evening before and shut up in a box stall at the Livery Barn. During the night one of Snigger’s setters escaped, gnawed all the leather off a new saddle and ate three boxes of axel grease. His work next day was uncommonly smooth. Early in the morning all the hunters came together for the start. It was deemed necessary to take a plentiful supply of remedies for snake bites. Nowhere are rattlesnakes thicker than on Muddy and at this time of the year they bite viciously. There was a slight hitch in the plans here also as the drug stores have shut down for repairs during Revival. Word was sent to Rock Creek, St. Joe, K.C. and other wholesale points and the deficiency somewhat remedied. When stock was taken just before starting, the list showed three half pints of white horse, seven bottles of Hostler’s Stomach bitters, one jug of hard cider and one quart bottle of that form of liquid damnation known as Hainer’s. The dogs were called together; the ammunition wagons loaded everybody took a good pull and the start was made. Past Rice’s Hill, the Seal School House and the big Rock the party sped without mishap until going down the little bank north of the old Rippetoe’s place, Hink Botts leaned forward from his seat in the surrey to spit. Just then the front wheel ran into a chuck hole, the surrey lurched over and Hink tumbled over on the wheel [and] alighted on his head at one side of the road. He turned over, sat up, a little dazed but a few liberal doses of “polluted” white horse put him on his pins again and the journey continued. On raising the hill along the old Graden place the first wolf was sighted. It had crossed the road going east, and the hounds took up the trail with a chorus of deep howling and bawling. Away they went through the cornfields, across the road near the Hardshell church and then on over the hay fields and out of sight in the direction of George Biggs place.

This story appeared in “Yesteryears” in October 1988.

Note: The Meriden Ledger ran this story with a “To Be Continued” line, but no subsequent account appears on newspapers.com.

*In The Old Home Place, Jefferson County author Joy Lominska writes, “Red wolves once lived in the area, and the hunts may have actually begun as wolf hunts. However, over time the wolf population declined and the ever-present coyote became more numerous, as well as possibly interbreeding with remaining wolves to create a hybrid. The wolves and wolf hybrids would have been difficult to distinguish from coyotes from a distance. These hunts were still called wolf hunts, even when the target was largely coyotes.”