20 A Cougar is a Good Cougar But Not Until Dead

The following event is what eventually turned my imaginary fears into reality.  It all began after a busy day when everyone in the house was fast asleep.   My dad was suddenly awakened with a loud growling sound from outside the bedroom window.   Not sure what the sound might be he immediately jumped out of bed and grabbled the flashlight that he kept on his night table and peered out past the raspberry patch.  Mom who in the meantime was awakened by the commotion said, “Gervase what is going on?”  My dad replied, “I can’t see well because of the raspberry patch but I think a cougar might have just killed a deer beyond the fence.”  Mom replied,  “Don’t think about going out now in the dark, wait until daylight.”

 Dad heartily agreed and the next morning there in the grass just beyond the fence dad could see clearly the scuffle between the cougar and a deer.  It seems that the cougar had won the encounter and grabbling the deer in its strong jaws had dragged it up the steep slope behind the house and through the apple orchard. Here the cougar had dropped the deer in a small hollow, covering it with leaves until its return to feed on its kill the following evening.

Us kids thought this was pretty cool as my dad and Uncle let us go out and see the tracks of the cougar where it had killed the deer, and where it had covered it for its return meal behind the apple orchard.

We all waited impatiently for evening when the cougar would return to feed.  My dad not having a gun carried an axe, and my Uncle a 22.  The normal weapon for hunting cougar’s in those days would be to carry a 30-30.  Crazy or not, off my dad and Uncle went to get themselves a cougar.  David and Dawna and I were dying to go along but my dad said “Forget it, you kids can come no farther then the orchard.”  “Please dad, please, why can’t we?” “I will not say it again, you can go no farther.” My dad said.  With that my dad and uncle took off and we waited very impatiently until they returned.

I can still picture my dad and Uncle as they climbed the hill into the forest behind the orchard, followed by Uncle’s mutt Skipper. Unknown to everyone Skipper was to play the biggest part in the expedition.

They had not gone very far with Skipper hot on the cougar’s scent when Skipper started barking like crazy and off he went with my uncle and dad running till winded to keep up. Skipper had spooked the   cougar away from his meal and was chasing it frantically through the brush.  Little did the cougar realize that with one swipe of its paw it could end poor Skipper’s existence, but instead kept running until it found a tree large enough to climb.  In a matter of moments my uncle and dad caught up with Skipper and the treed cougar, which was now glaring down at the dog with a menacing stare.

My uncle quickly raised his 22 and with the first shot the cougar fell out of the tree.  It fell with a thud at my dad ‘s feet and he courteously stepped aside feeling that this was not the time to use his axe, and that valor could be best displayed on another day and in a different venue.  My uncle never paused in his shooting and kept firing until the magazine of his 22 was empty and the cougar lay still.  This gave Skipper the opportunity he had been waiting for and he victoriously started biting at the cougar.

It was with great excitement that we greeted my uncle and dad as they came dragging the cougar back down to the orchard.   It was not a big cat by known standards but we all marched down from the orchard to the house in triumph, where the rest of our families waited.

The next day my uncle and dad had their pictures taken with the cougar laying in front of them, its head held up with a forked stick.  Of course Skipper was in the picture and so was the gun in the background propped up against a tree.  My dad declined to have his axe as part of the picture.  My Uncle however, as it was his trophy, had the hide sent to town where it was made into a rug with the cougar’s head as part of it.  I thought it kind of cool to see the rug on my Uncle’s living room floor, with the cougar’s cunning grin that seemed to say, “your turn is coming,” every time I visited my aunt and uncle.

Uncle Irwin with Skipper and my dad.

19 Never Fear Jim is Here

As a small child on Read Island I was not overly concerned by the fact that wildlife of every kind made the island their home.  I knew that predators such as cougars and black bears also roamed the forests on the island but I was not particularly concerned.  What really gave me concern was the dark.  I can remember that after turning the light out in my room at night I would dive under the covers.   And of course you had to be especially careful about putting you legs over the bed as you never knew what malevolent creature living there might attack.  I can still feel the tingles of terror run up and down my spine as I went on errands outside after dark.  It was sometime later that certain happenings beyond my imagination awakened in me a fear for some of the wild animals that lived on our island.

 

I remember the story of how Jim Lambert as a boy, chased a cougar off in broad daylight.  Jim being one of the mildest men I have ever known makes what happened next hard to believe. Out of the corner of his eye Jim notices a movement in the brush not far from where the cows were feeding.  To his amazement he saw a cougar creeping along in a crouched position readying to spring on their best milk cow. This was something Jim would not stand for but the only thing Jim was able to find for his defense was a stick.  Knowing what happened next is amazing as Jim walked slowly toward the cougar waving the stick and shouting, “Shoo cougar! Shoo cougar! Shoo cougar!”  And would you believe it, the cougar took off.  Much to Jim’s relief.

18 Tipton’s My First Super Store

Moving to Bird Cove put us just about central to all business and social activities on the island.  The main road on the island now ran past our front door.  It was now only a short walk or bicycle ride to either of the two schools, or the three stores on the island.  The Read Island General Store and Post Office on the south side of the island was where we got most of our mail and supplies.  On the north side of the island were Frost’s Post Office at Surge Narrows, but by far the best store was Tipton’s General Store just up the channel from Frost’s Post Office.

Mr. Tipton and his wife added their uniqueness to the blend of island folk and thus became an integral part of my growing up life on Read Island.  It was said they had left the civilized world at Mrs. Tipton’s insistence to get Mr. Tipton off the Scotch whiskey that was about to do him in.   Her intensions were to be applauded but were to no avail as his supply of booze never lessened as it was renewed weekly with the Union Steamship freighter’s run from Vancouver.  In keeping with his love of booze and quite often-inebriated state, someone had rudely written on the wall of the freight shed where all could read, “Toothless Tipton’s Tavern”.   This was unfair as Mr. Tipton was a man of integrity and did run a good store in spite of his weakness for spirits.

 He lived with his wife up from the beach on a steep hill above the store. Part of the walk to the house was managed by a set of steep stairs that provided access to the store, which clung to the shore atop a series of pilings to give it support.  I can still hear him coming down from his house huffing and puffing. To hear him climb the stairs caused even more concern because he had a bad heart.  His most famous feature however was his very large, very red curved bulbous nose, seconded only by his “huh, huh, huh’s”, which he uttered continuously.

I loved his store as it had an amazing variety of items such as, groceries, hardware, clothing, shoes, gumboots, paint, and building material.  And that was besides all of the mysterious things that he kept out of sight.   I especially liked to smell the strange mix of all these things as I loved come in to buy peppermint candies; 10 cents could buy you quite a bagful.  What I liked even more was a Macintosh toffee bar, or an O’Henry bar for 6 cents.  Orange Crush was also a treat at 6 cents for a real glass bottle of the stuff.

At Tipton’s when you bought cottage cheese it came in a large container and Mrs. Tipton would scoop out your order onto heavy brown waxed paper placed on a large scale.  I liked to watch her fold the paper over and tie it with a string for you to carry home.  It was also fun to watch her cut off a pound or two of cheddar cheese from a huge round and wrap it the same way.  It is with fondness that I remember the many times that I went to their store after school to satisfy my longing for sweets.

Tipton's store where I bought my peppermint candies as a kid.

17 Traveling to School at the Surge Narrows

The roads on the island were only roads if you stretched your imagination.  The ground had been cleared of derby and the stumps removed but they were very narrow, rough, very muddy and not very wide, more likened to a wide trail. To cross the many streams that crisscrossed the road at various places large hand split planks had been laid on logs as under girding support.  The planks however were extremely uneven in thickness and very lose.

The first year that my little sister Karen started school I rode her on my bicycle crossbar.  This meant that I had to peddle like a mad man down the little hill and across the bridge so I could make it up the other side as far as possible before having to get off to push. Usually it was too steep to make it very far with Karen on the crossbar.  On this particular occasion we flew down the hill and hit the uneven planks at blinding speed, snapping the forks off right above the wheel. This sent both of us flying over the handlebars.  Karen hit the ground first and began howling like she was killed.  The speed sent me flying over top of her and I landed with a thud.  It appeared neither of us had broken our necks.  My fear for her quickly subsided as I realized she could not be hurt to seriously because she was making such a racket.

We carried on to school by foot after dusting ourselves off, and it was some weeks before the bike was fixed and we could ride again.

One cool thing that happened during the last few years at Surge Narrows was learning to drive a model A.  My dad picked up an old ’32 model A when I was about fourteen and after a bit of practice I learned to drive it quite proficiently.  It had a manual choke and a lever that advanced the spark.  I thought it was a cool machine.  It came with a rumble seat, which my dad promptly chopped off, and in its place put a box to make it like a pick-up to carry stuff.  Traveling to school was now a snap as we would all climb in and off we would go, getting there in a matter of minutes.  No more fear of crashing my bicycle as I flew over the bumpy bridges at warp speeds.