By my dad, Jody Daniels
Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year. Growing up, I spent every Christmas vacation but one in Fulton, although I did come to Fulton the day after for the remainder of my release from Mobile. This was my fourth grade year, & I remember getting a gold bicycle with a leopard skin banana seat & high handlebars.
Fulton for the holidays was always so much fun because I was with my grandparents, who were the greatest, and my aunts, uncles, & cousins. My grandparents loved their children and grandchildren & loved our visits. My grandfather, Joe Hudson, was a fun guy to be around. He was a jokester to some degree. He loved pulling our legs, & was always up to something.
When I was a young boy of hunting age, my grandfather, who we called “Pop,” wanted to take my cousins, Bob, Stan, & me, squirrel hunting. Pop would drive to Chance, AL, & borrow a squirrel dog from an old black man named Mr. Duke Dotson. This dog loved to hunt as much as we did. After several hunts with the dog, Pop decided that we needed our own squirrel dog. During this time there was a popular outdoor magazine named “Sports Afield.” Pop looked through the magazine & came across an advertisement that showed some trained squirrel dogs for sale for around $150. Pop must have thought his grandsons were worth buying a dog, so that’s what he did. He contacted the seller, who to my recollection was located in Arkansas, to make the purchase. The seller told my grandfather that the dog would arrive at the airport in Mobile, AL at noon on Christmas Eve of that year (‘67 or ‘68).
My Uncle Griffin, who worked at Pensacola NAS, was unable to come to Fulton earlier in the week with all of us, agreed to stop by the airport to pick up the dog on his way to Fulton that Christmas Eve. He waited from noon, the dog’s scheduled arrival, until 6:00 pm, but the dog’s plane never landed. After his six hour wait, Griffin decided to make his way to Fulton. When his car pulled up at POP’s house, Stan & I ran out to see what the dog looked like, but there was no dog. Griffin told Pop about the wait & no dog, & my grandfather was sick over it.
Pop went straight to the telephone, called the seller at the kennel, and inquired as to where the dog was. The kennel owner told my grandfather “I shipped the dog to Montgomery, & it’ll be there in the morning.” Early Christmas morning, Pop & my Uncle Griffin drove to Montgomery & picked up the dog, who was actually there. After half day of traveling, they made it back to Fulton with the dog & in time for lunch with the family. My cousin Stan & I were so excited over the arrival of the dog, a handsome male Feist whose name was Mack.
After spending as much time as possible, familiarizing Mack with each of us and his new home, we prepared for the initial hunt the next day. This hunt was to take place near Clarkesville, just west of Zimco, on my grandfather’s cousin Louie Wilson’s land. The time had finally arrived for Mack to show his stuff, so Pop, Bobby, Stan, & I, along with Mr. Dotson’s dog, headed to the woods. It wasn’t long before Mr. Dotson’s dog treed. We all moved in and around the tree. When the first shot was fired, Mack took off, and not in search of another squirrel. He was hightailing it out of Dodge. Quickly, we realized that Mack was gun-shy and had never had any training. He was history, so we thought. The hunt continued for a while without Mack with my grandfather feeling aggravated and very disappointed. We returned to the truck rather quietly, knowing how Pop had to feel about his recent purchase being a failure.
As we loaded up and were leaving the woods, a car approached us and the driver asked if we had lost a dog. We were very happy to have Mack back, but needless to say, for the rest of his life, Mack was just a friendly yard dog. We did continue to hunt for several years until my grandfather developed hardening of the arteries, similar to Alzheimer’s, and he declined mentally.
I am so thankful for all of the good times Pop provided for us, the time spent with my cousins and for being able to live and raise my children in the big city of Fulton, Alabama.
