Back home in Alachua County, I soon called Dr. David Maehr and told him about the animal climbing a tree in Aucilla on the Gulf Coast. I asked him what would be more likely: a panther or a bear. David Maehr replied, "If it were being chased by dogs, a cat would be more likely to tree right away. But if there weren't dogs chasing it, a bear is more likely whether it is a cub or an adult." David's voice was much more thoughtful after I told him about the treeing. I think that was because he saw I was spending substantial time checking out a report of a black panther sighting and getting something interesting to happen. It could have been a panther going up that tree, and, horrors!, it could have been a black panther since the animal Wayne Folston saw was black.
Toward the end of the month of May, 1999, Wayne and I rendevoused again in Perry to look for the black panther in the Aucilla Game Management Area. We drove arond some but spent most of our time fishing in the sinkholes. I caught what Wayne said was a spotted sunfish but was called a stumpknocker in Florida. I told him about my wish to have the funds to do more extensive field research on the black Florida panther issue. At dusk, we left the woods, and Wayne headed back to Tallahassee. His partying words to me were, "If you have just one sighting, you could probably get a grant."
I then decided to drive down to the public boat landing on the Ecofina River which empties into the Gulf of Mexico. This was where JR of the nearby JR's Store had told me that he had seen a black panther. The road to the landing was long, about ten miles. There were no houses, just camps, and finally a campground and lodge at the landing which were closed. I saw deer all the way in. To Be Continued.
*
*
Bullets from Two-Guns: Tasha went to the Alachua Sheriff's Office to ask about my guns. It took an hour and a half, but the worker finally ascertained that they were there though she did not see them visually. She said it would take her supervisor to clear that. We want to give Lon my guns instead of having them waste away at the Sheriff's Office. The worker told Tasha that she should contact Judge Glant's secretary and ask for a hearing on the matter. Tasha commented to me, "Of course, the Stouts and Starlings will be there, saying they are terrified about the guns being released." She's probably right for I don't expect them to stop their lying. However, the Stouts might decide they had better lay low for if this issue remains hot, someone of integrity and power (surely they aren't mutually exclusive)is going to read the statements made to the court, and see how absurd and impossible they are.
You may remember when Lloyd Vipperman was allowed by the court to ask more specific questions of the Stouts, they refused to answer his calls. They knew they couldn't explain away the absurdity and impossibility of their charges. That's when they referred my case to mental health court, something they had no authority to do but they were cops and were being represented by a state attorney right out of law school. Of course, Lloyd Vipperman strongly objected to their devious, unauthorized behavior to the judge. Shortly after that, the State Attorney's Office was willing to make a Deferred Prosecution Agreement with me, and the young State Attorney was no longer working at the State Attorney's Office. I could have told her that her high-handed methods would get her into trouble eventually. Months before, I had called her to ask if she wanted to hear my side of the story. She replied, "I'll hear it from your lawyer," and with that, hanged up without even bothering to say goodbye. Surprisingly, I learned that she was a graduate of the University of Florida Law School and had interned with the first lawyer I hired. I'm blocking on his name, but he talked very respectfully to me even though what he said was not at all respectful. I'll explain in my next posting.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
#116 "The Black Panther Betrayal" Online Book, cont.
Wayne Folston said the animal was black so if it were a panther, it was a black one. After our brief investigation failed to produce anything, we decided to take a break. Wayne got another beer from the cooler, and I got another Pepsi. Then we headed to his hunt club, Three Rivers. It has 115,000 acres with 500 members and a waiting list. I saw why there was a waitig list: We viewed about 25 deer from the truck. I saw a cottonmouth on the sand road, got out, and shot it with my Ruger .22 target pistol, making only one shot. Wayne got out too and asked, "Where'd you hit it?" He looked at the snake and answered his own question, "In the head, of course."
After practicing literally thousands of shots at home, I had become a good shot. I owed it to the dogs to be able to protect them from a coiled rattler or cottonmouth. There are three species of rattlers in the area. As we drove around Three Rivers Hunt Club, it became obvious that a big drawback was that the club had several paved county roads going through it. Thus, there is a lot of poaching by the public on the club property. Almost all clubs do a lot to increase the food supply for all the animals. They grow food plots, and put out grain, corn, and minerals. All wildlife benefits including the species that are not hunted. Wayne commented that the club members try to train the deer to run if they see a vehicle stopping. That didn't seem to be a difficult task because the deer in Florida are very wary compared to those in Virginia, probably because of the hunting done from vehicles. Wayne told me about a lesson he had to give a deer: "We had a doe who would stand right by the road and stare at you when you stopped. You can guess what was going to happen to her - someone was going to pop her. So one day when she was standing by my truck, I took out my 30/06 and put the scope right on the top of her left ear. I pulled the trigger and just creased her ear. She never lollygagged around again after I stopped the truck!"
Of course that may sound too "violent" to the pansies who live in their heads and never get out in the woods, but Wayne Folston acted like a man and did the right thing. We worked our way back to Perry and his truck at Hardee's, deciding to call it a day. Wayne headed north to Tallahassee, and I turned east toward the Santa Fe River. I stopped in Tenille, just east of Steinhatchee for gas and food. I had not eaten for twelve hours. Wayne had offered me some of his lunch out in the woods, but I did not want to take any. I started talking to the clerk at the store, and she said, "I've seen black panthers." She was stunned when I told her that the professionals in the field and the published field guides maintained that there was no such animal. She related her story: "I was fourteen and was walking along the Fenholloway (which is now the most polluted river in America thanks to a pulp mill and the corruption in Florida). I happened to look up, and there was a black panther looking at me. He slipped away. Why, my great-uncle was chased around and around his house in Lake Butler (only about ten miles from where I live) by a black panther!"
"Right. I get reports of black panthers being there."
"Well, that was a long time ago."
"Can I talk to him?"
"No, he's dead, but his wife is alive."
"Is she still operating?"
It was a poor choice of words, but I was exhausted and hungry.
"Yes, but she's 62 or 63."
"Well, that's only ten years older than me. Can I talk to her?"
"I'll get her phone number from my mother tomorrow and call you. Thank you for talking to me."
"Thank-you!"
I never heard from her.
*
*
Bullets From Two-Guns: Yesterday, I was clearing brush by the pond with my loppers. I was working on a clump of ground vines when I looked over at a depression in the ground about six feet away. In the depression was a big, old cottonmouth sunning himself. He was so old, he was solid black on top. I slowly backed away and got my bow and quiver of arrows about forty yards away. But he was gone when I returned. Animals and possibly a human will suffer tremendous pain because I have been deprived of my target pistol which would have been tucked under my belt if the Stouts hadn't perjured themselves in court.
Tasha took Rusty, a rescued Rhodesian ridgeback with no ridge, to the vet. He examined Rusty carefully and took X rays, finding a detached kneecap in his right front leg. "That could only have been done by a vehicle," Doctor Stephen Shore said. "That would make sense, because when we rescued him, his brother had just been hit by a car and killed. Rusty was right next to him,"Tasha told him. The two ridgebacks were just puppies, and their owners were apparently migratory crop pickers. They had left the two puppies to fend for themselves and had been gone over a week when we took Rusty. I checked around their house and back porch and there was no food or water. I took a picture of Rusty's dead brother, which the vultures were eating, and left it at their front door. I left a message too: "Murderers!" I would notice Rusty not using his right front leg as the years passed. Recently, I saw that he would keep the leg up for a week or so. The vet prescribed medication for him.
After practicing literally thousands of shots at home, I had become a good shot. I owed it to the dogs to be able to protect them from a coiled rattler or cottonmouth. There are three species of rattlers in the area. As we drove around Three Rivers Hunt Club, it became obvious that a big drawback was that the club had several paved county roads going through it. Thus, there is a lot of poaching by the public on the club property. Almost all clubs do a lot to increase the food supply for all the animals. They grow food plots, and put out grain, corn, and minerals. All wildlife benefits including the species that are not hunted. Wayne commented that the club members try to train the deer to run if they see a vehicle stopping. That didn't seem to be a difficult task because the deer in Florida are very wary compared to those in Virginia, probably because of the hunting done from vehicles. Wayne told me about a lesson he had to give a deer: "We had a doe who would stand right by the road and stare at you when you stopped. You can guess what was going to happen to her - someone was going to pop her. So one day when she was standing by my truck, I took out my 30/06 and put the scope right on the top of her left ear. I pulled the trigger and just creased her ear. She never lollygagged around again after I stopped the truck!"
Of course that may sound too "violent" to the pansies who live in their heads and never get out in the woods, but Wayne Folston acted like a man and did the right thing. We worked our way back to Perry and his truck at Hardee's, deciding to call it a day. Wayne headed north to Tallahassee, and I turned east toward the Santa Fe River. I stopped in Tenille, just east of Steinhatchee for gas and food. I had not eaten for twelve hours. Wayne had offered me some of his lunch out in the woods, but I did not want to take any. I started talking to the clerk at the store, and she said, "I've seen black panthers." She was stunned when I told her that the professionals in the field and the published field guides maintained that there was no such animal. She related her story: "I was fourteen and was walking along the Fenholloway (which is now the most polluted river in America thanks to a pulp mill and the corruption in Florida). I happened to look up, and there was a black panther looking at me. He slipped away. Why, my great-uncle was chased around and around his house in Lake Butler (only about ten miles from where I live) by a black panther!"
"Right. I get reports of black panthers being there."
"Well, that was a long time ago."
"Can I talk to him?"
"No, he's dead, but his wife is alive."
"Is she still operating?"
It was a poor choice of words, but I was exhausted and hungry.
"Yes, but she's 62 or 63."
"Well, that's only ten years older than me. Can I talk to her?"
"I'll get her phone number from my mother tomorrow and call you. Thank you for talking to me."
"Thank-you!"
I never heard from her.
*
*
Bullets From Two-Guns: Yesterday, I was clearing brush by the pond with my loppers. I was working on a clump of ground vines when I looked over at a depression in the ground about six feet away. In the depression was a big, old cottonmouth sunning himself. He was so old, he was solid black on top. I slowly backed away and got my bow and quiver of arrows about forty yards away. But he was gone when I returned. Animals and possibly a human will suffer tremendous pain because I have been deprived of my target pistol which would have been tucked under my belt if the Stouts hadn't perjured themselves in court.
Tasha took Rusty, a rescued Rhodesian ridgeback with no ridge, to the vet. He examined Rusty carefully and took X rays, finding a detached kneecap in his right front leg. "That could only have been done by a vehicle," Doctor Stephen Shore said. "That would make sense, because when we rescued him, his brother had just been hit by a car and killed. Rusty was right next to him,"Tasha told him. The two ridgebacks were just puppies, and their owners were apparently migratory crop pickers. They had left the two puppies to fend for themselves and had been gone over a week when we took Rusty. I checked around their house and back porch and there was no food or water. I took a picture of Rusty's dead brother, which the vultures were eating, and left it at their front door. I left a message too: "Murderers!" I would notice Rusty not using his right front leg as the years passed. Recently, I saw that he would keep the leg up for a week or so. The vet prescribed medication for him.
Monday, January 26, 2009
#115 "The Black Panther Betrayal" Online Book cont.
I decided to call Richard's wife and find out what kind of beer he was drinking the previous evening to make sure the mess I found was his. Whom did I get but Richard! He was supposed to be in Gainesville by now. He didn't like hearing my voice either. I asked, "Were you drinking Natural Lights last night?"
"I had about two (make that two dozen, pal).
"Did you put a forked stick in the ground for your rod?"
"Yes."
"Did you have a metal sheet over the campfire?"
"Yes, you found my spot," he replied with surprise and admiration in his gruff voice.
"Did you have a good time (a discreet reference to his condom wrapper)?"
"Yes."
"Where did you see the black panther from here?"
He started tellilng me, but what he said made no sense so I put Wayne on the phone. Richard's directions made no sense to him either. I described Richard to Wayne with a curse word, saying, "He's still at home!"
"He's waiting for his son who is late. I wouldn't want the kind of life Richard has," Wayne commented, defending Richard again."
"Why?"
"Breathing all those gases in welding."
I agreed with that since I knew nothing about welding.
"He's entitled to get blitzed on Saturday night," Wayne pressed on.
I used another strong word in a pithy sentence to describe how Richard was treating us, and then, as I am wont to do, I began to feel self-pity. "You know there is a Ph.D. in wildlife management in a little town called LaCrosse, just a few miles from where I live. This Ph.D. said these black panther sightings would drive me crazy."
With that said, Wayne and I began exploring around the sinkholes. The sand was very dry, but we did find some cat tracks that were too large for a bobcat. They had to be panther tracks. In an area of dry mud, we found a nice bear track. Around seven that evening, we were cutting limbs back from the road with my two loppers when Wayne hissed, "What was that? It wasn't a deer. It was black! It was right in the middle of the road, saw me, and streaked off!"
I backed the truck up the road to where Wayne thought the animal had gone off the road. The woods were a delight. They were full of old trees, and the land was not plowed into row after endless, knee-wrenching row for the planting and growing of young pine trees. I thought it probably was like Old Florida looked before the giant cypress trees and other hardwoods were cut down to make room for the vast pine tree plantations. Earlier we had even driven across a rock-lined creek that was dry.
After I backed up, we got out of the truck, and Wayne immediately picked up a little trail in the woods and disappeared. I stayed by the truck and listened. Twice, I heard the claws and movement of a very large animal climbing a pine tree. The sound of his claws digging into the soft bark of the pine was so distinct you could feel it.I was wearing only Nikes, but I was tempted to throw caution to the wind and get to the noise as quickly as possible. But the fear of rattlesnakes was too great. Instead, I decided to go into the same little trail Wayne had used. I reached the trail and started walking through the woods, making very little noise in my running shoes. Then I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me, up next to the truck. I decided to go back and check the noise out but could see nothing. The brush there was very thick. I should have stayed on the trail because it went in the direction from which the sounds of the climbing animal were coming from. Next time, I will wear snake-proof protection. Soon Wayne came out of the woods and reported seeing nothing. To Be Continued.
Bullets from Two-Guns: Kudos to Tasha for standing by Mocha, the chocolate lab, and encumbering a $1,000 vet bill to have her treated. I salute Kando, the Navy Seal, for twice going to the vet's with his credit card when his employees had first a very sick cat, and secondly, an injured dog. Kando's employees couldn't pay for the vet expense, but Kando backed them with his credit card. It's an honor to know people who love animals that much. peternickerson12@yahoo.com
"I had about two (make that two dozen, pal).
"Did you put a forked stick in the ground for your rod?"
"Yes."
"Did you have a metal sheet over the campfire?"
"Yes, you found my spot," he replied with surprise and admiration in his gruff voice.
"Did you have a good time (a discreet reference to his condom wrapper)?"
"Yes."
"Where did you see the black panther from here?"
He started tellilng me, but what he said made no sense so I put Wayne on the phone. Richard's directions made no sense to him either. I described Richard to Wayne with a curse word, saying, "He's still at home!"
"He's waiting for his son who is late. I wouldn't want the kind of life Richard has," Wayne commented, defending Richard again."
"Why?"
"Breathing all those gases in welding."
I agreed with that since I knew nothing about welding.
"He's entitled to get blitzed on Saturday night," Wayne pressed on.
I used another strong word in a pithy sentence to describe how Richard was treating us, and then, as I am wont to do, I began to feel self-pity. "You know there is a Ph.D. in wildlife management in a little town called LaCrosse, just a few miles from where I live. This Ph.D. said these black panther sightings would drive me crazy."
With that said, Wayne and I began exploring around the sinkholes. The sand was very dry, but we did find some cat tracks that were too large for a bobcat. They had to be panther tracks. In an area of dry mud, we found a nice bear track. Around seven that evening, we were cutting limbs back from the road with my two loppers when Wayne hissed, "What was that? It wasn't a deer. It was black! It was right in the middle of the road, saw me, and streaked off!"
I backed the truck up the road to where Wayne thought the animal had gone off the road. The woods were a delight. They were full of old trees, and the land was not plowed into row after endless, knee-wrenching row for the planting and growing of young pine trees. I thought it probably was like Old Florida looked before the giant cypress trees and other hardwoods were cut down to make room for the vast pine tree plantations. Earlier we had even driven across a rock-lined creek that was dry.
After I backed up, we got out of the truck, and Wayne immediately picked up a little trail in the woods and disappeared. I stayed by the truck and listened. Twice, I heard the claws and movement of a very large animal climbing a pine tree. The sound of his claws digging into the soft bark of the pine was so distinct you could feel it.I was wearing only Nikes, but I was tempted to throw caution to the wind and get to the noise as quickly as possible. But the fear of rattlesnakes was too great. Instead, I decided to go into the same little trail Wayne had used. I reached the trail and started walking through the woods, making very little noise in my running shoes. Then I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me, up next to the truck. I decided to go back and check the noise out but could see nothing. The brush there was very thick. I should have stayed on the trail because it went in the direction from which the sounds of the climbing animal were coming from. Next time, I will wear snake-proof protection. Soon Wayne came out of the woods and reported seeing nothing. To Be Continued.
Bullets from Two-Guns: Kudos to Tasha for standing by Mocha, the chocolate lab, and encumbering a $1,000 vet bill to have her treated. I salute Kando, the Navy Seal, for twice going to the vet's with his credit card when his employees had first a very sick cat, and secondly, an injured dog. Kando's employees couldn't pay for the vet expense, but Kando backed them with his credit card. It's an honor to know people who love animals that much. peternickerson12@yahoo.com
Sunday, January 25, 2009
#114 "The Black Panther Betrayal" Book cont.
"After I hanged up the phone, I cursed. Wayne tried to calm me by saying, "Now Pete, it's different here. It's Perry."
"A man's word is important in any culture," I responded.
Then Wayne tried to scare me: "Richard is a big man. Once my brother had a refrigerator he didn't want. He had just bought a new one and put the old one outside on the porch. He gave it to Richard and said, 'Let's get the pickup and take it to your house.' Richard replied, 'I'll take care of it.' He put his arms around that refrigerator, picked it up off the porch, and carried it home!"
I was not impressed. I wasn't a refigerator. Wayne and I drove to Aucilla Game Management Area without Richard. After about an hour and alternatively driving and cutting limbs back from the road so my truck wouldn't get scratched, I found the sink hole where Richard had fished the night before. Richard had originally told us that he would take us to where he saw the black panther sitting. He said he would do it either Saturday night or Sunday morning. I had a premonition that if we didn't go to the panther spot Saturday night, he would drink that night and not want to get up Sunday morning. But then when I asked that we get together Saturday evening, Richard changed his tune and replied, 'Well, I really want to go fishing Saturday evening. I had promised my wife fish for dinner. I had promised to take her fishing in the sinks.'
Thus, he had gone back to Aucilla Game Management Area for a night of fishing and drinking, and the next morning wanted nothing to do with Wayne and me. When Wayne and I got to Aucilla Game Management Area, we began looking around for the sink holes because that was the area in which Richard had seen the panther. Richard said he saw the big, black cat near a sinkhole that was so big you could not see the end of it. After finding several smaller ones, we came upon the one he described. I also saw what I was sure was evidence of Richard's carousing from the night before: There was a brand-new cardboard box for 24 Natural Light beers stuck onto the limb of a tree. I stopped the truck, got out, and walked up the trail to the sinkhole. There were new Natural Light beer cans flung into the jungle-woods off the trail as if Richard had blazed the way for me. I then found a campfire with a big sheet of metal in the center of it. Richard had probably fried his catch on it. Near the campfire, right on the edge of the sinkhole, I saw a forked stick that he had probably used to hold his fishing rod. Looking into the water in the sinkhole, I could see foot-long catfish swimming about. Brand-new soft drinks were scattered about too. I theorized those belonged to his wife. I found the worm can for the catfish and the discarded box for his Rapala lure. I looked more closely around the campfire and found the piece de resistance: a condom wrapper. I was pleased that I could read Richard so well." To Be Continued.
Bullets From Two-Guns: We nearly lost Mocha, a chocolate lab, to an infected uterus. Dr. Stephen Shore quickly operated on her and removed the second largest uterus in his life. The other one came from a German shepherd. Mocha is a small lab, no where near the size of a shepherd. Dr. Stephen Shore of Gainesville did a remarkable operation. I urge all panther lovers to keep an eye and ear out for my panther colleague in Charleston, South Carolina, Micas Singleton. He is doing a lot of work on the black panther issue. His perspective is the black leopard. I believe that though there may be released black panthers and they may be reproducing, there influence is not that great. I believe the black panther comes naturally from Florida panthers. Micah is not blogging, and I have encouraged him to do so because what he relates to me verbally is extremely interesting, and I am sure it would be for you too. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
"A man's word is important in any culture," I responded.
Then Wayne tried to scare me: "Richard is a big man. Once my brother had a refrigerator he didn't want. He had just bought a new one and put the old one outside on the porch. He gave it to Richard and said, 'Let's get the pickup and take it to your house.' Richard replied, 'I'll take care of it.' He put his arms around that refrigerator, picked it up off the porch, and carried it home!"
I was not impressed. I wasn't a refigerator. Wayne and I drove to Aucilla Game Management Area without Richard. After about an hour and alternatively driving and cutting limbs back from the road so my truck wouldn't get scratched, I found the sink hole where Richard had fished the night before. Richard had originally told us that he would take us to where he saw the black panther sitting. He said he would do it either Saturday night or Sunday morning. I had a premonition that if we didn't go to the panther spot Saturday night, he would drink that night and not want to get up Sunday morning. But then when I asked that we get together Saturday evening, Richard changed his tune and replied, 'Well, I really want to go fishing Saturday evening. I had promised my wife fish for dinner. I had promised to take her fishing in the sinks.'
Thus, he had gone back to Aucilla Game Management Area for a night of fishing and drinking, and the next morning wanted nothing to do with Wayne and me. When Wayne and I got to Aucilla Game Management Area, we began looking around for the sink holes because that was the area in which Richard had seen the panther. Richard said he saw the big, black cat near a sinkhole that was so big you could not see the end of it. After finding several smaller ones, we came upon the one he described. I also saw what I was sure was evidence of Richard's carousing from the night before: There was a brand-new cardboard box for 24 Natural Light beers stuck onto the limb of a tree. I stopped the truck, got out, and walked up the trail to the sinkhole. There were new Natural Light beer cans flung into the jungle-woods off the trail as if Richard had blazed the way for me. I then found a campfire with a big sheet of metal in the center of it. Richard had probably fried his catch on it. Near the campfire, right on the edge of the sinkhole, I saw a forked stick that he had probably used to hold his fishing rod. Looking into the water in the sinkhole, I could see foot-long catfish swimming about. Brand-new soft drinks were scattered about too. I theorized those belonged to his wife. I found the worm can for the catfish and the discarded box for his Rapala lure. I looked more closely around the campfire and found the piece de resistance: a condom wrapper. I was pleased that I could read Richard so well." To Be Continued.
Bullets From Two-Guns: We nearly lost Mocha, a chocolate lab, to an infected uterus. Dr. Stephen Shore quickly operated on her and removed the second largest uterus in his life. The other one came from a German shepherd. Mocha is a small lab, no where near the size of a shepherd. Dr. Stephen Shore of Gainesville did a remarkable operation. I urge all panther lovers to keep an eye and ear out for my panther colleague in Charleston, South Carolina, Micas Singleton. He is doing a lot of work on the black panther issue. His perspective is the black leopard. I believe that though there may be released black panthers and they may be reproducing, there influence is not that great. I believe the black panther comes naturally from Florida panthers. Micah is not blogging, and I have encouraged him to do so because what he relates to me verbally is extremely interesting, and I am sure it would be for you too. Two-Guns at peternickerson12@yahoo.com.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
#113 "The Black Panther Betrayal" cont.
Richard said, "I've seen two black panthers in Perry. This one was about a hundred yards up the road. He was sitting at a pig and deer crossing. I thought he was a black hog at first. Then I could see that he was sitting down. Then I saw a seven foot tail that was twitching. As we drove closer, he got off the road and was gone. The other black panther I saw from a tree. I cocked my 30-30 and told myself that if he got any closer, I was going to kill him."
"How close was he?"
"Fifteen feet."
After I made a series of calls to him and Wayne who lived in Tallahassee, we all agreed we would go out to where Richard saw the panther. We would meet a nine in the morning. I drove the two hours to Perry and met Wayne in the parking lot of Swain's
Restaurant. Wayne then called Richard, but his wife said he was asleep. Wayne and I drove into Perry where we politely waited at Hardee's for an hour before we called him again. This time he answered, saying, "Oh no, I've been up since dawn. My son wants to get back to Gainesville." Richard and his son were welders and were working on the widely hated concrete plant Florida Rock was constructing in Newberry, near Gainesville."
Honored reader, I had quite a lifting session last night, and my hands and wrists really hurt. Sorry, but must stop. Two-Guns
"How close was he?"
"Fifteen feet."
After I made a series of calls to him and Wayne who lived in Tallahassee, we all agreed we would go out to where Richard saw the panther. We would meet a nine in the morning. I drove the two hours to Perry and met Wayne in the parking lot of Swain's
Restaurant. Wayne then called Richard, but his wife said he was asleep. Wayne and I drove into Perry where we politely waited at Hardee's for an hour before we called him again. This time he answered, saying, "Oh no, I've been up since dawn. My son wants to get back to Gainesville." Richard and his son were welders and were working on the widely hated concrete plant Florida Rock was constructing in Newberry, near Gainesville."
Honored reader, I had quite a lifting session last night, and my hands and wrists really hurt. Sorry, but must stop. Two-Guns
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
#112 "The Black Panther Betrayal," Barry Killed
Now let's continue with "The Black Panter Betrayal": "In April, 1999, I finally finished writing all my marked passages in David Maehr's great little book, The Florida Panther: Life And Death Of A Vanishing Carnivore." I have checked the book out from the library for over a year, and now I can return it and check out other books. I don't seem to be much of a reader. I ordered my own copy of David's book from Books-A-Million. I also called David yesterday to tell him about the ex-mayor of the City of Alachua in Alachua County seeing a black panther with a white patch on his face. David simply retorted, "The question is why he is seeing a black panther because they don't exist. He could be wearing a purple scarf..."
"And taking off in a UFO," I filled in.
David did say, "The black bobcat (which is occasionally seen in south-central Florida) sometimes has white markings on it."
"Well, that would make sense. The white and black both come from the same recesssive gene," I remarked knowledgeably.
About two weeks later, I got a call from a Wayne Folston. He is the brother of the guy from Colorado who pointed out the dead "black panther" to his family when they were on vacation in Florida from Colorado. I mentioned his daughter, the Rocky Mountain Beauty. Wayne Folston said, "I talked to my other brother in Perry, and his neighbor saw a black panther a few days ago. He was fishing in the sinks (sinkholes) on the Aucilla River. The cat was just sitting in the middle of the road, looking at him."
"Do you think he was hallucinating?" I asked facetiously.
"I believe him. Richard's family used to run cattle and hogs. He knows the woods. He used to hunt riding a horse in there. That horse would either see or sense the deer and stop. Richard would then look until he could spot the deer. That horse would carry the deer out too. Most horses won't carry dead animals. Richard would have no reason to lie."
"How old is he?"
"Fifty-three or four."
The Rocky Mountain Beauty at the motel breakfast had told me her name so I later called information and asked for the Folstons in Perry. I wanted to get the number of the Folston from Colorado who had pointed out the "black panther" to his family. Since he had obviously stopped both of his daughters from telling me the real identification of the animal - a big, black dog - I wanted the satisfaction of talking to him. Now it seemed that I had stumbled on a recent black panther sighting in the Aucilla Game Management Area that seemed genuine. Even though Richard supposedly did not have a telephone, I started calling people in Perry who had his same last name. I found a woman who finally admitted she was Richard's daughter-in-law although Richard had never officially married her mother. According to Wayne, Richard and this woman have been living together all their adult lives without benefit of nuptial ties. They have several children. The daughter-in-law said she had not heard of the panther sighting, but that Richard and her husband, Richard's son, would be back in town by the weekend. I called her back Friday, and she had obviously talked to her husband and Richard and maybe Wayne Folston because she was much less guarded. She even gave me Richard's phone number. I called him, and he was adamant that he had seen a black panther. To Be Continued.
Two-Guns' Rant: Kando, the Navy Seal, wanted to take in Barrymore, the dog would lives under Tasha's bed, and see if he could work with him. For about a year, I have been chasing Barry out from under the bed and closing Tasha's bedroom door so he can't get back in. He's been spending time under the kitchen table. For months, he would only sit under the table and watch me suspiciously. But recently, he began to relax and would lie on the bedding I gave him and even appear to go to sleep. I would open Tasha's door, but he would stay in the kitchen for days before he sucumbed to his old ways and would be back under the bed. When Kando took Barry, I learned that there was no space under his bed, and Barry was forced to be with the rest of the dogs. Kando does very well with animals, and soon he was petting Barry. Barry was acting like a regular dog and running with the pack. Peanut, the yellow lab, and father of Rambo and Cowboy had adopted Barry. They spent most of their time together, and Peanut would groom Barry with his tongue. Yesterday, apparently the males got into a fight while Kando was at work, and Barry was killed. Someone tore a hole into his stomach, ruptured an artery, and Barry bled to death. Kando found him that night when he got home from work. Peanut was lying next to him. This morning when Kando left for work, it was raining but Peanut was again stretched out on the ground next to Barry's grave. Goodbye, Barry. I hope to see you on the other side.
If you have a black panther, Bigfoot, or Skunk Ape sighting either present or past, I would love to hear to hear from you. peternickerson12@yahoo.com or 352-359-0849.
"And taking off in a UFO," I filled in.
David did say, "The black bobcat (which is occasionally seen in south-central Florida) sometimes has white markings on it."
"Well, that would make sense. The white and black both come from the same recesssive gene," I remarked knowledgeably.
About two weeks later, I got a call from a Wayne Folston. He is the brother of the guy from Colorado who pointed out the dead "black panther" to his family when they were on vacation in Florida from Colorado. I mentioned his daughter, the Rocky Mountain Beauty. Wayne Folston said, "I talked to my other brother in Perry, and his neighbor saw a black panther a few days ago. He was fishing in the sinks (sinkholes) on the Aucilla River. The cat was just sitting in the middle of the road, looking at him."
"Do you think he was hallucinating?" I asked facetiously.
"I believe him. Richard's family used to run cattle and hogs. He knows the woods. He used to hunt riding a horse in there. That horse would either see or sense the deer and stop. Richard would then look until he could spot the deer. That horse would carry the deer out too. Most horses won't carry dead animals. Richard would have no reason to lie."
"How old is he?"
"Fifty-three or four."
The Rocky Mountain Beauty at the motel breakfast had told me her name so I later called information and asked for the Folstons in Perry. I wanted to get the number of the Folston from Colorado who had pointed out the "black panther" to his family. Since he had obviously stopped both of his daughters from telling me the real identification of the animal - a big, black dog - I wanted the satisfaction of talking to him. Now it seemed that I had stumbled on a recent black panther sighting in the Aucilla Game Management Area that seemed genuine. Even though Richard supposedly did not have a telephone, I started calling people in Perry who had his same last name. I found a woman who finally admitted she was Richard's daughter-in-law although Richard had never officially married her mother. According to Wayne, Richard and this woman have been living together all their adult lives without benefit of nuptial ties. They have several children. The daughter-in-law said she had not heard of the panther sighting, but that Richard and her husband, Richard's son, would be back in town by the weekend. I called her back Friday, and she had obviously talked to her husband and Richard and maybe Wayne Folston because she was much less guarded. She even gave me Richard's phone number. I called him, and he was adamant that he had seen a black panther. To Be Continued.
Two-Guns' Rant: Kando, the Navy Seal, wanted to take in Barrymore, the dog would lives under Tasha's bed, and see if he could work with him. For about a year, I have been chasing Barry out from under the bed and closing Tasha's bedroom door so he can't get back in. He's been spending time under the kitchen table. For months, he would only sit under the table and watch me suspiciously. But recently, he began to relax and would lie on the bedding I gave him and even appear to go to sleep. I would open Tasha's door, but he would stay in the kitchen for days before he sucumbed to his old ways and would be back under the bed. When Kando took Barry, I learned that there was no space under his bed, and Barry was forced to be with the rest of the dogs. Kando does very well with animals, and soon he was petting Barry. Barry was acting like a regular dog and running with the pack. Peanut, the yellow lab, and father of Rambo and Cowboy had adopted Barry. They spent most of their time together, and Peanut would groom Barry with his tongue. Yesterday, apparently the males got into a fight while Kando was at work, and Barry was killed. Someone tore a hole into his stomach, ruptured an artery, and Barry bled to death. Kando found him that night when he got home from work. Peanut was lying next to him. This morning when Kando left for work, it was raining but Peanut was again stretched out on the ground next to Barry's grave. Goodbye, Barry. I hope to see you on the other side.
If you have a black panther, Bigfoot, or Skunk Ape sighting either present or past, I would love to hear to hear from you. peternickerson12@yahoo.com or 352-359-0849.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Panther Sighting, "Black Panther Betrayal" cont.
Moy Aquirrey saw the brown panther with black spots in Waccasassa, a small town between Archer and Newberry, roughly twenty miles west of Gainesville and the University of Florida. She was the female of an established pair who had been seen repeatedly. The male was solid black. Moy had never seen the male.
To return to my online book, "The Black Panther Betrayal":"When I told my father about the panther and the white patch, he said he had seen him several times.
A couple of years before that, my daddy let me go squirrel hunting for a few days because our watermelon harvest had been very good. A friend and I went to Trenton and camped out. Apparently, we had camped near a panther's young because that night it kept screaming. What a horrible sound! It makes the hair on your neck stand straight up, and your skin crawl. She screamed all night only yards from us. We didn't get any sleep. We kept the campfire built up high. As soon as it got light, she stopped screaming at us. We got out of there as fast as possible. We took only our guns and left everything else. We had a '51 Chevy truck, but wouldn't you know,it wouldn't start. We began walking out on this grade, looking at every tree and bush carefully. We wanted time for a good shot if she charged. Then she crossed just above us. I'll tell you, it was hard walking past where she had crossed. Her prints were in the road. Finally, we got out of there. Later we came back, got the truck running, and picked up everything. Then I went looking for a dog. A regular deer hound will not run panthers. Sometimes, a Walker will. Walkers will run anything. I found a dog that evening that everyone said would run bear. They kept saying, "It will run bear. It will run bear. It will run bear." I took it back in the truck to where the cat tracks were. I put him on the tracks. He turned himself inside out trying to get out of there as fast as possible. I found him hiding in the truck. He wouldn't come out for anything!"
The former mayor of Alachua City continued, "I used to hunt bobcats every Thursday with a bobcat hunter. That's all he did - hunt bobcats with his hounds. One night his hounds hit a line, and they all turned themselves inside out getting out of there as fast as possible. The bobcat hunter said it was a panther. My father worked hard at farming and ranching, but I'll tell you, if you jumped a deer in Dixie or Gilchrist County, he could tell you exactly where that deer was going, what roads he'd cross and just where in the roads. Daddy got blood clots in his legs. At 78, of course, they were dangerous. The doctors wanted to do just one leg at a time so he had one leg fixed in the summer. The next leg was to be fixed in Octoer, but when October came, Daddy said an operation would get in the way of hunting season. So we postponed the operation. Mother had died years before. She just got tired of living. It was a hard life. After hunting season was over, it was time for Daddy to have his other leg done, and I got to Daddy's house the morning of the appointment and went inside. A girl was sitting there. My brothers, who were farming with Daddy, had gotten him someone to watch him twenty-four hours a day. I asked the girl, "Is Daddy ready to go to the hospital?" The girl said, 'He's dead.' I went inside and saw that Daddy had died in bed. A blood clot had gotten him just hours before it would have been removed. Hunting was that important to him.
I asked him about the farming life, and he reiterated that it was very hard. He added, "When I walk out of here (indicating the barbershop), I leave my work behind. It's not like that with farming."
"It's not like that with sixteen dogs either," I thought.
"After Daddy died, my brothers asked me to come back to the farm. I told them I didn't want to work for no one. They said I'd have the third vote. That would just guarantee that everyone would be mad. I don't know what happened - my brothers and I were so close, but we don't get along that well now. Still, I know that if I really got in trouble, they'd sell part of the farm to help me."
(Mitch, the barber and ex-mayor, died of pancreatic cancer a couple of years later. I don't know if he was battling it at this time, but I think he was from the wistful way he talked about his brothers and being in trouble.) After he cut my hair for a while in silence, I asked, "You've worked with government. Why do you think the Game Commission and Ph.D.s in wildlife managment say that we everday people are hallucinating when we see black panthers?"
"They're as full as shit as last Christmas's turkey!" he snorted.
To return to my online book, "The Black Panther Betrayal":"When I told my father about the panther and the white patch, he said he had seen him several times.
A couple of years before that, my daddy let me go squirrel hunting for a few days because our watermelon harvest had been very good. A friend and I went to Trenton and camped out. Apparently, we had camped near a panther's young because that night it kept screaming. What a horrible sound! It makes the hair on your neck stand straight up, and your skin crawl. She screamed all night only yards from us. We didn't get any sleep. We kept the campfire built up high. As soon as it got light, she stopped screaming at us. We got out of there as fast as possible. We took only our guns and left everything else. We had a '51 Chevy truck, but wouldn't you know,it wouldn't start. We began walking out on this grade, looking at every tree and bush carefully. We wanted time for a good shot if she charged. Then she crossed just above us. I'll tell you, it was hard walking past where she had crossed. Her prints were in the road. Finally, we got out of there. Later we came back, got the truck running, and picked up everything. Then I went looking for a dog. A regular deer hound will not run panthers. Sometimes, a Walker will. Walkers will run anything. I found a dog that evening that everyone said would run bear. They kept saying, "It will run bear. It will run bear. It will run bear." I took it back in the truck to where the cat tracks were. I put him on the tracks. He turned himself inside out trying to get out of there as fast as possible. I found him hiding in the truck. He wouldn't come out for anything!"
The former mayor of Alachua City continued, "I used to hunt bobcats every Thursday with a bobcat hunter. That's all he did - hunt bobcats with his hounds. One night his hounds hit a line, and they all turned themselves inside out getting out of there as fast as possible. The bobcat hunter said it was a panther. My father worked hard at farming and ranching, but I'll tell you, if you jumped a deer in Dixie or Gilchrist County, he could tell you exactly where that deer was going, what roads he'd cross and just where in the roads. Daddy got blood clots in his legs. At 78, of course, they were dangerous. The doctors wanted to do just one leg at a time so he had one leg fixed in the summer. The next leg was to be fixed in Octoer, but when October came, Daddy said an operation would get in the way of hunting season. So we postponed the operation. Mother had died years before. She just got tired of living. It was a hard life. After hunting season was over, it was time for Daddy to have his other leg done, and I got to Daddy's house the morning of the appointment and went inside. A girl was sitting there. My brothers, who were farming with Daddy, had gotten him someone to watch him twenty-four hours a day. I asked the girl, "Is Daddy ready to go to the hospital?" The girl said, 'He's dead.' I went inside and saw that Daddy had died in bed. A blood clot had gotten him just hours before it would have been removed. Hunting was that important to him.
I asked him about the farming life, and he reiterated that it was very hard. He added, "When I walk out of here (indicating the barbershop), I leave my work behind. It's not like that with farming."
"It's not like that with sixteen dogs either," I thought.
"After Daddy died, my brothers asked me to come back to the farm. I told them I didn't want to work for no one. They said I'd have the third vote. That would just guarantee that everyone would be mad. I don't know what happened - my brothers and I were so close, but we don't get along that well now. Still, I know that if I really got in trouble, they'd sell part of the farm to help me."
(Mitch, the barber and ex-mayor, died of pancreatic cancer a couple of years later. I don't know if he was battling it at this time, but I think he was from the wistful way he talked about his brothers and being in trouble.) After he cut my hair for a while in silence, I asked, "You've worked with government. Why do you think the Game Commission and Ph.D.s in wildlife managment say that we everday people are hallucinating when we see black panthers?"
"They're as full as shit as last Christmas's turkey!" he snorted.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Black Panther Sighting
Two nights ago I was dining on a Thickburger at Hardeens in High Springs. There was a group of female athletes from Levy County, and I heard the coach, a tall, big man with black hair and blue eyes, talk about hiking. I got up, took a paper napkin, and walked over to him. His name was Moy Aguirrey, and he had seen a female tan panther with black spots twenty years ago.
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