There is a wide ridge in the middle of our property thickly
covered with Witch Cane. Sometimes
called Cane, Bamboo, Switch Cane, Owl Cane, etc. but down here they call it
Witch Cane. However you call it, through
the middle of this cane thicket is a narrow track made by loggers 70-80 years
ago that you can barely see, but if you follow it and get through to the other side,
there is a little hidden valley that I discovered was filled with big buck
sign. So yes, I took my climber in there after lunch and worked my way as
quietly as I could through the thick cane, having to turn sideways and almost
on my knee some of the way, but I made it through and set up my stand in a nice
hickory tree and waited. That afternoon was bright and sunny and I saw deer after
deer but not the big buck I wanted and after a great hunt, I got down out of my
stand after dark and headed back. I found
my flashlight and turned it on. Now flashlights are not my specialty and they
are supposed to work when you need them and worrying about batteries is not
something you think about until you need them. I turned it on and a feeble yellow glow was
all the light I had. I headed up into
the Witch Cane.
I don’t know when I got off the trail but it was pretty
quick, all I could see was the faint glow around me and the thick cane. The
mistake I made was cutting back and forth trying to find the trail, and suddenly
I was completely turned around. I’m carrying the climber on my back, sweating
and a little panicky and I decided a straight line was best. I had to come out
somewhere. The cane got thicker and thicker as I pushed my way through and
suddenly I fell out into a small opening about 5 feet around. I was holding the
small flashlight in my mouth so I could use my hands to fight my way, so I
fell almost to the ground and the dim
light caught something right below me. Half covered in leaves and dirt was a
broken tombstone. Everything went quiet like in a horror movie, and the moon
suddenly rose giving a faint light. I brushed the dirt away in the dim light
and could make out some faint writing inscribed. I brushed away more, then
scraped the moss away with my knife. I could see the word in capital letters on
the grave marker. W-I-T-C-H . Witch! I froze, but my mind was screaming at me
to run, to get away. I stood up listening. No sound, no wind, nothing. It was
deathly quiet.
Then a soft breeze touched the top of the cane, or maybe
they moved themselves as it seemed a slight whisper went through them, a
muttering stretching out as far as I could hear through the tops of the cane,
then I heard it louder coming back, and a slight fog seemed to slowly start
forming over the grave.
Unlike the horror movies, I did not wait any longer. I took
off wide open, leaving my climber behind. I did not let up until I broke
through the can a few hundred yards from my truck. I caught a breath, changed
gears and made it to the truck in record time.
If you are looking for a great used climber, I can tell you
where to get one free of charge, I’m sure it’s right where I left it.
