By Mark C. Kyle circa 1937
In the day when the thousands of acres of land known to the inhabitants as the “Big Survey” was virgin forest, many square miles of almost trackless wilderness lay in the territory covering the water shed of Buffalo Creek in Clay and Nicholas Counties. Miles might be travelled over these wooded hills covered with the most magnificent poplar, chestnut and hardwoods, and not an acre of cleared land anywhere in sight. These expansive woodlands and forests furnished fine range for cattle and sheep in the summer season, along with chestnuts, beech nuts and acorns commonly known to the country folk as “mast.” The land provided an abundance of food for the hogs which were allowed to run wild in the hills and find comfortable living quarters under cliffs.
Each man living in the section had a peculiar method of marking his stock which consisted of cutting the ears of the young in a way that his animals might be distinguished from those of his neighbors. Such terms as smooth crop, half crop, under bit, over bit, swallow fork and others equally plain to the present generation were used in connection with the process of marking calves, lambs, and pigs. No man dared molest an animal bearing any other than his own mark. A gang of hogs might be found in the woods belonging to several citizens as evidenced by the peculiar markings of the ears. The same was true, with cattle and sheep.
Except the years when the mast crop was a failure, as was sometimes the case, the hogs were permitted to remain in the woods and fatten on the nuts that fell from the trees. Naturally, they became wild. Each man having wild hogs in the woods made an effort to round up his pigs when quite young and mark them in order that he might be able to claim his own among the fat swine that would later infest the forest. It sometimes happened, though perhaps not often, that a mother sow might be found bearing the ear marks of one farmer in the vicinity while the pigs following her might have their ears marked in a way indicating they belonged to another man.
No blooded stock was ever kept in those days, but some of the hogs grew to an enormous size. When mast was plentiful, some of the razorbacks, long legged with long bodies, developed weight and became very large animals. Some of them managed to escape the hog hunters for several years and grew immense tusks, four, five or six inches in length. These were indeed dangerous animals when forced into a fight when being bayed by dogs. The dog not accustomed to hunting this kind of game might allow himself to get too close to the hog, in which case a lunge by the animal might result in the long sharp tusks cutting a gash several inches long in the dog’s body or even disemboweling him. Hog hunting had all the thrills anyone might be looking for. With a good hog hound to run them to cover, usually under a great shelving rock cliff, a number of the animals could sometimes be shot in a few minutes. For a number of years, Uncle Jim Young had a black and tan dog known to everybody in the vicinity as Old Cap. Cap was a real hog hound and appeared to understand perfectly when he went into the woods with hog hunters that he was expected to pay no attention to any animal other than a hog, and he governed himself accordingly. This dog was in great demand during the hog killing season and was a very busy dog until the porkers were all rounded up and their carcasses reposing in the smokehouses of the neighborhood.
In order to preserve the meat, it was necessary, of course, that the hog killing be done in cold weather, and it was no small task to bring the slain animals home and dress the meat for future use. Usually the killing was done several miles from home, and the bodies must be carried or dragged this distance through the woods without roads. After the animals were killed, the entrails were removed and the bodies hanged up on a limb or snag several feet above the ground to prevent dogs and wild animals from reaching them. The owner returned home to arrange for transportation of his meat from the woods to his own smoke house. If the weather was very cold, as it usually was when hogs were killed, the bodies were frozen when he returned, sometimes on the next day after the killing. With a chain or stout rope fastened around the jaw behind the tusks, the frozen hog was dragged home over stones and logs and whatever obstacles might be found in the way.
The activities of the hog killing season gave a fine demonstration of that spirit of cooperation which always existed among country folks during pioneer days. A spirit which did much to make life more pleasant for all. We might add, in passing, that it seems this spirit is rapidly dying out in the machine age in which we are now living, and in its stead, we all too often find a demonstration of selfishness and indifference to the affairs of others.
Several men in the neighborhood usually joined in the hog killing campaign, all of them frequently finding their hogs running together in the same section of woods. When the work of killing the hogs, bringing in the bodies, dressing and storing the pork in the smokehouses, rendering the lard, making head cheese, etc. was completed, the year’s supply of meat was provided for and each home was well stocked. Of course, the hams had to be hanged up later and smoked for several days over smoldering fires of hickory chips.
Just a few of the folks now living in Clay County are fortunate enough to be able to remember the wonderful aroma arising from a frying pan filled with chestnut flavored, hickory smoked ham from a wild hog, with plenty of fresh eggs flanking the slices of ham. No one, who has not had the actual experience, can comprehend what an appetizing dish this was. We would not say it was a dish good enough for a king, but rather it was a dish too good for a king.