Weed lookin' things

It was jist b'fore sunup one mornin' th' other day, an' I was ready t' git out an' scout me up somethin' fer brekfast. I like t' git movin' b'fore them loggin' boys start stirrin' up th' woods, 'cause it's either dust or mud in th' woods when they git' t' rearin' around cuttin' up trees an' haulin' 'em off t' mill. Course, they ain't been real bizzy here lately, but I git out early anyhow, jist outta habit.

I had spotted a li'l ol' patch a' somethin' off t' th' side a' one a' my trails, an' I was goin' t' check it out. It might 'a been a turnip patch, but I wad'n sure, an' I hadn' seen nobody workin' at it fer awhile. I sniffed th' wind t' make sure they wadn't no gun-totin' hawg hunters stirrin' around, an' went on up t' that li'l ol' patch. Well sir, it wern't no turnips, or corn, or sweet p'taters. Wadn't nothin' like I ever seen b'fore. I walked up an' smelt of th' li'l ol' weed lookin' things, an' couldn' tell nothin' about 'em. They was three or four foot high, with nice green leaves on 'em, so I decided t' give 'em a taste. Couldn' hurt nothin' an' they might be perty good fer a change.

I et a couple a' them weeds an' decided they wern't too bad. Even though they wadn' much taste to 'em, they was somethin' about 'em that felt all right, so I et another two er three and set down t' watch th' sun come up. It seemed brighter'n usual, with all kind a' perty colors to it, an' I just set there enjoyin' it in th' still mornin' air, thinkin' about how nice things was down here in th' deep woods, quiet an' all.

About then, I smelt th' scent a' somebody comin' up, and lissened real hard. They was somebody comin' up my trail t'wards that li'l ol' patch. Then, all at onct, they was somebody else runnin' up from th' other side, an' they commenced t' holler out, "Halt! Stop! Hit the ground! Spread 'em!" Then they broke into a hard run, stompin' th'ough th' brush, chasin' after th' ones comin' from th' other side that had started gittin' fu'ther in a dead run while th' second bunch was yellin' into some kinda li'l ol' box, "Come on! They're runnin! Ten-Four! Turn th' dogs loose! Ten-Four!"

Well sir, when they called th' dogs, I figgered I was caught so I backed up agin'st a big ol'clay root an' braced up t' defend myself. I shore was s'prised when them dogs run right on a'past me an' circled 'round them l'il ol' weeds, waggin' their tails an' grinnin' same as if they'd a' caught a coon. D'rectly them fellers come on back, all outta breath, took a whack at them dogs an' grabbed 'em up an' th'owed 'em back in th' truck. They seen me bowed up ag'inst that clay root, and said, "Git!"

An' I done it. But I wadn't in no gre't big hurry. Th' sun shore was lookin' perty by then.