Saturday, December 11, 2021

The Visitor

 Via Kevin Goodwin 

https://i1.wp.com/blog.deborahscannellphotography.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/Bud-Ogle-Cabin.jpg

From Gavin's Pen and Camera.
The Visitor. 
 
Jackson Daniel's had himself a cabin deep in the Smoky Mountains. He had retired there looking for peace and the quietness that only a remote cabin could provide. He had lost his wife about ten years before he retired. Broke his heart. It was not long after that, he'd decided to buy the cabin.
Upon his retirement, he sold up and moved to the mountains. 
 
In the evenings, after supper, he would sit on his porch with a cup of coffee and his harmonica and play his favorite tunes. One night he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He kept playing and after a while, a wolf appeared. He noticed that it was limping pretty bad. The wolf sat down about thirty yards away and as it did, Jackson noticed that he was holding one paw off the ground.
 
Jackson slipped inside the cabin and returned with two bowls. One filled with water and the other one was filled with the leftover stew from his supper. He placed them on the ground about ten yards from his porch.
 
"Come on old boy, it's all yours." He said softly then sat back in his chair.
 
After several minutes, the wolf limped over to the bowls. Keeping his eyes on Jackson, he ate the food and drank the all water.
 
"Come back tomorrow for supper." He told the wolf.
 
For three days the wolf came back for the meal Jackson had laid out, each time a few feet closer to the cabin.
 
Jackson would talk to him all the while and each day the wolf would linger longer.
 
On the fourth day, Jackson placed the bowls on the porch. The wolf limped right up to them and ate. 
 
When he had finished, Jackson coaxed the animal over to him. Slowly the wolf crept closer. Jackson held out his hand and the wolf sniffed it and sat down beside him.
 
Jackson quietly took the injured paw and found a thorn in it.
 
"Let me get that out old boy."
 
After a couple of minutes, the thorn was removed.
 
That trust in each other formed a bond between them. Pretty soon, that old wolf would not leave Jackson's side. The two became best friends which would last about six years. When the wolf passed away, Jackson laid him to rest in the front yard. In the evenings, Jackson would play his harmonica for his old friend.....Ahhh The Beautiful hillbilly life in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee.

2 comments:

  1. Hi Brock....,
    With a tear in my eye I can say....
    "10-4!!".....
    I keep thinkin' about a "Life" like that.. for what I have left of mine..
    'Only, my cabin in the hills would be a Camp down in the Manchac Swamps..

    Blue skyz...buddy...,
    skybill

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