Hitching Post Dogs Member Don Cohenour, Son and Fellow Hunter


Cohenour, “Bo,” my father, longhorn, rancher, and dog man. I grew up in East Texas among the


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pines, oaks, and creeks. As a young man I do not ever remember not being around hunting dogs. My dad and his friends always had dogs, walkers and blue ticks, and beagle crosses later in life. All were trained to run deer and fox. My dad, known as “Bo” by all his friends, always raised dogs for fox hunts and chasing deer. All his friends always raised dogs for fox hunts and chasing deer, because chasing deer is mainly what they did. Very few animals were killed because the deer soon became savvy to the dog routine and would run parallel to the roads. Most hunts that were made in those days consisted of “standers” which lined the “government roads,” one stander every 75 to 100 yards. The gun of choice for these hunts usually was a shotgun with buckshot because of the thick pine and oak forest and un- derbrush. The standers or hunters would wait eagerly, hoping one or more of the “ghost deer” would cross the road. My dad’s crew, or hunting party, consisted of life-long friends Porter “the Indian” Harris, Red White, John Hancock, Ben Shipman, Doug Peterson, Billy “the Highway Man” Latam, Harry “Army Truck” Bilbo, Doc “Dog Man” Smith, and Royal “the Cook” Reese. Some of the sons of this crew (including me) were known to my father’s friends as Donnie, Bob Peterson, Joe Hancock, and, later in life, my younger brother Jimmy. The hunts usually would take


place on weekends at my dad’s place in Scrapping Valley, Texas, near To-


loving memory of Donald E.


ledo Bend Reservoir. These hunts were held in Sabine and Newton Counties where dog hunting was still allowed, a family tradition that we all had been a part of for 20 to 30 years. The hunters would gather at my dad’s place called “South Prong” because it was located on the south prong of Six Mile Creek, a tributary of Toledo Bend Reservoir. The crews would start arriving on Thursday and Friday before the season opened on Saturday, usually the fi rst Saturday in November in most years in Texas. As these people and their friends and family would arrive, the “hoedown” would begin. There were always plenty of canned and bottled beverages and the makings for “gumbo” and pit smoked meats called barbeque. Each man who could cook, usually Royal Reese and Red White, would bring his own specialty, Royal’s being gumbo and Red’s being pit smoked meats. There would be tents, trailers,


tarps, sleeping bags and cots, but mostly a gathering of good men and their families. All of these men loved hunting with dogs and the feeling you got when standing on the road with your shotgun hearing the sounds of “sweet music” as the dogs ran through the trees and creeks barking as though there were ghosts in the wind. That sound getting closer and closer, causing you to get unsettled and jittery, hands sweating and the hair on the back of your neck standing up. You, not knowing where and when the possible encounter with that ghost deer would come, only hearing the barking getting closer and closer. Most times that animal would never cross the road, but the sounds of the ghost deer running would leave you feeling very relieved


that nothing happened. Knowing, in fact, you have been close but far away from something happening … but still leaving you with a lifetime story or love of dog hunting in East Texas. The hunts usually were put on by


a head man, my dad or Doc Smith, who would decide where each hunt was to be made and which parties would go to the “stands,” as they were called. These stands were named for spots along the road, which bordered the trees and creeks. Usually they were places where something memorable had happened. Names like twelve point stand, big live oak stand, bug curve in the road stand, Smith road stand, big rock stand, bee tree stand, doe crossing stand, and many others. Unless you had hunted these stands and made a life-long memory, you would know nothing about this happening. Dog hunting was later banned in


East Texas and my dad and his friends seemed to die a little … and in time became “still hunters.” The dogs were passed on to grateful hunters in other states where dog hunting for deer was still allowed. All these men are dead and gone,


with tombstones in pretty cemeteries in East Texas. Every now and then a strang- er will come up to one of the old home places and ask why there is a “hitching post” in front of most of these old homes. The owner would say, “That was so the dog hunters could return someone’s dog and tie the dog up.” Those were the hitching post dogs of East Texas hunting history and the men who loved to hunt with them.


Page 146 Winter 2012


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