A Man And His Dog, The Backwoods

This is a continuation of the story about A Man And His Dog.
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While Sam was sick I had no idea what it was that had caused her to become so deathly ill. It wasn’t long afterwards, I figured it out. I don’t know about anywhere else but in West Virginia when you visit friends and neighbors with your dog, they not only feed you, they feed your dog too. Every time someone fed Sam people food she was almost immediately sick.

–Remember, I was homeless during this time. I had a lot of friends and could have stayed a few places. But after being forced into my situation by courts, the ex, and ultimately my kids I just wanted to live basically care free and I cared about nothing but Sam. I think I may have used Sam as a crutch because it is simply not in my nature to not care about anything.–

My plan at the time was to wait for spring then go to the mountains for the summer. Since Sam was unable to eat anything but dog food, it added an extra burden. It was going to be difficult camping for three months and be able to get food for Sam. I didn’t see that as a problem that would stop Sam from going but I saw it as a problem that needed to be worked out. I had taken this good natured little dog under my wing and one way or another I was going to take care of her.

Most of my friends knew the story of how I became homeless so they understood. Sam and I had no shortage of help making it till spring. Everybody knew my plans and supported me. I just needed to get away for a while. By the time spring arrived, I had a few dollars in my pocket for the truck and plenty of dog food for Sam. From January to April Sam and I really bonded. I took her on a few winter hikes just to see how she would be in the woods. She was the perfect hiking partner from the start. When she still had the look of a puppy, I would have to wait for her a lot. But by the time we left for our camping adventure, she was waiting for me a lot. One morning I woke up, loaded up the truck with Sam and disappeared from the radar for nearly three months.

I remember the day Sam learned to swim. The place I had decided to camp was located right by a natural spring. It was perfect with clean drinking water and a poor mans bathtub just down stream. It was a round pool of crystal clear water about six or seven feet across and about three feet deep. (Oh yes, I have lived off the land) When I first discovered the pool of water, Sam and I was standing on the edge. I look down at Sam and tell her she could use a bath. She was a dog after all. I pick her up and toss her right into the middle of the pool. She went straight to the bottom. That’s when she learned to swim. I know, that sounds mean, but you had to be there.

It was actually an important moment. When Sam came out of the pool on the other side I called her back to me. She demonstrated amazing trust. She didn’t even do like dogs normally do and shake off the water. She came back to me soak and wet. She was, without a doubt, afraid I was going to toss her back in the pool. I could also tell she didn’t want to go back in the pool. As soon as she realized her trust wasn’t misplaced and that I wasn’t going to put her back in the pool she started running around like a wild animal, just as happy as she could be and somewhat cleaner.

Over the next few months, Sam and I became inseparable. I used to get tickled at her because she was afraid of everything that moved in the woods, even turtles. The first time she met one of those, she wouldn’t get closer than about ten feet barking at it the whole time it was invading her space. I thought it was funny as hell calling her a wimp. The good thing about her being afraid of everything is that she was always alert in the woods. I was never worried about running into something unexpectedly. Sam had that amazing nose and if we got within range of a smell she couldn’t identify she became instantly aware and from the change in her demeanor, I became aware. Usually I would start scanning the ground for snakes because that was really my only concern. We definitely didn’t need a snakebite. But most of the time we would apparently pass by whatever it was she had smelled and she would turn off the sirens and relax. But on those rare occasions…

One morning we went into a hollow hiking and looking at the progress of ginseng growth. Coming up through the bed of the hollow we were in a deep V formed by ridges on both sides. Almost immediately Sam started acting weird. She smelled something and from past experience I knew without a doubt we weren’t alone in this hollow. I almost turned around because we were in pretty thick ground cover. But I put my trust In Sam. I really didn’t think I could get that close to a snake without Sam letting me know it was there, so we continued. We didn’t have to go far before the ground cover cleared and the hollow opened up before us. Leaving the thick cover, I expected Sam to relax. When she didn’t I started scanning the hollow ahead of us. I couldn’t see anything moving but near the top of the ridge there was an old gaswell road. I really didn’t think she could smell that far but it stood to reason that if there was something else in the hollow it was on that road.

We were making our way slowly up the center of the hollow headed for the old road. Sam, who always stayed just ahead of me, wouldn’t leave my side. I had just found a few stalks of ginseng when the awfullest scream I ever heard pierced the air. It scared the hell out of me because all my time in the woods I have never heard a sound like that, plus it came right out of peace and quiet. After the initial scare the sound didn’t sound threatening at all. Eerie without a doubt but it sounded like something in pain. Sam didn’t even seem worried just curious as we stood there listening. The screaming (for lack of a better word) continued and it appeared that whatever was making that hideous noise was moving back and forth in one general area on the road. My curiosity getting the better of me, I headed for a point on the road about fifty yards from the noise and downwind. Sam seemed to understand stealth in this situation and if I hadn’t been able to see her I would have never known she was by my side. It took us about twenty minutes to get to the road with the noise coming more frequent.

Try to picture this… a big S with the S representing the road. We come up on the road on the outside of the bottom curve and the noise is coming from the inside of the top curve. Part of the S has our view blocked so we have to move up the road towards the sound.

By the time we were moving on the road I was really surprised that Sam hadn’t abandoned ship. The noise was ear piercing and sent chills down my back. I wondered what she was thinking. Anyway, we crept slowly towards the sound staying as close to cover as possible. I wanted to see it before it saw me. The wind was at our front and moving at a decent clip so I wasn’t concerned with our scent giving us away. Finally I look about twenty five yards up the road and witnessed a miracle of nature. We watched a doe give birth to a fawn. No wonder she was screaming I thought. I didn’t even have to worry about Sam interfering. She lay beside where I knelt and witnessed the same thing I did. It was something I will always remember.

At the time I felt like we were intruders. For some reason I just wanted away from the doe. Give her the privacy she deserves. We watched for a couple minutes then turned and headed back the way we came. Sam seemed to agree about leaving, once again out in front leading the way. She was back to happy go lucky and I was thinking… life goes on. I guess you could say Mother Nature taught me a valuable lesson that day. Life will go on… no matter what setbacks we encounter.

Although it was a tough summer having my friend Sam made the experience a lot easier. By the end of summer and because of the deer experience it was time to get my act together. By that time I really felt, since Sam helped me so much mentally, it was time for her to have a home.

In a nutshell, a dog and a doe taught me that giving up is not an option and it was time to move on.

to be continued…

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Next post… A Man And His Dog, Going Home

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Adding to this post… this story happens at a time when the nickname Backwoods Drifter took root and started to grow.