Coon Dog Cemetary

Just a few miles outside of Red Bay, Alabama in Franklin County in the northwest corner of the state lies a little know cemetary. It's not your run of the mill cemetary for the only patrons buried there are Coon Dogs.
It dates back to September 4th, 1937 when a coon dog named "Troop" was put to rest in the hallowed ground. Since that time many faithful partners of the hound dog variety have made this their last resting place on this earth. A fitting memorial of two hounds clawing to get up a tree that they have just run a coon up, stands to commerate all the coon dogs buried here. It is still active today as the last service held was for a dog named "Flop" buried on August 8th, 2009. Now at first thought, one might think this is just a little strange, but I would beg you to hold all notions of wierd, looney, insane or any other adjective that might come to mind until you think about it for a while. Better yet, visit there and spend a little quite time just pondering all the tales and stories and memories that go along with the lives of these animals we call man's best friend. I have to say it is a little emotional to walk through the cemetary and just imagine if they could all tell their story. I couldn't help feel a part of their lives as I strolled from grave to grave and saw the names and dates of these faithful ole hunting partners. This poem came to mind as I began to leave the cemetary.

The Ballad Of "Ole Number Seven "

I'm just an ole hound dog

I ain't good for much

Laying around all day

Eating and sleeping and such

Resting my ole bones

And healing up my paws

Waiting til the sun goes down

For to exercise my jaws

Cause when the sun does drop

Down behind the hills

And the moon slowly rises

And gives the air a chill

My ole nose goes to twitching

And sniffing out the air

My heart begins to quicken

Sending ripples through my hair

Ears that drooped all day

Now turn and face the breeze

Trying to catch the sound

Of coon talk in the trees

From across the way it comes

Old Red lets out a sound

A verse of hound dog music

"Boys the coons have hit the ground"

The time it is upon us

A hunting we must go

We'll gather at the river

Where the mountain waters flow

Who'll cross the trail

Where ole Cooney has left a scent

And be the first to tell'm all

I'm the best there's ever bent

But on this night I fear that I

Must stay here on this porch

Mine eye does hold a flicker

Where once they held a torch

And as the race heats up

They make their music loud

Old Red and Bear and Preacher

They lead this coon dog crowd

And Sam and Doc and Troop

What quite a six they make

To lay here just a listening

Is more than I can take

For when I was a younger dog

I was a cooning all the time

No better nose for trailing

Had any dog than mine

Ole Cooney would often lead us

Far and wide we'd go

Through valley and over mountain

Through rain and wind and snow

But before the night was over

We'd put ole Coon to tree

There was none any better than

The other six and me

But tonight would be the last time

I would hear them sweet and loud

To run but one more race with them

Would make me oh so proud

But I must race alone tonight

For I was "Ole Number Seven"

My final race will lead me

Straight up to Coon Dog Heaven

And as the flicker in my eye

Turned to embers in the dark

I knew they had treed ole Cooney

I could tell the way they barked

Don't worry none ole partner

Was the last thing they said

Ole Cooney done his best

But we've sent him on ahead

We didn't want you lonely

When you get to Coon Dog Heaven

So strike his trail and keep it hot

Our friend "Ole Number Seven"

          

         Randy J. Schultz   October 6th, 2009