Corpus Christi History
By Murphy Givens

Wednesday, May 5, 1999

Neighbors muster for a panther hunt

FIRST PERSON: Thomas J. Noakes

   When Thomas J. Noakes' brother inherited the family estate, he left England for Texas, arriving in 1845. He worked for H.L. Kinney before settling in the Nuecestown area. These excerpts come from his second diary, when he was a bachelor homesteader.

   Thursday, Jan. 7, 1858: I intended to go to Corpus with my cart to fetch various things, but a cold driving sleet prevented me. Up 'til today the bad weather has prevented me from doing anything but jobbing around, planting a few seeds in the garden and such like performances. Yesterday, I hunted a horse and a cow which strayed from my herd. I have been hard-pressed for meat during the last week. Peter, my pup, has been on short rations. However, I boiled him a pot of rice, and with that and part of a fish I caught in the Nueces, he feels he is in better condition to go on living.
   Peter is now in the most giddy stage of his youth, loose-limbed and big boned, and has an appetite like a lion. He manages to keep himself fairly comfortable, except in cold weather, which he hates beyond anything. He gets as close to the fire as he possibly can, without burning his skin, not minding to burn his whiskers and eyebrows, which have been burnt off so often that I believe that the fire has stopped their growth.
   At this season, Peter and I are more apt to come to blows, or rather kicks, as he seems to think that the fire was created for overgrown pointer pups, and that human beings have no right to it whatever, and he is determined to stand his ground, let the consequences (the kicks) be what they may. If after sundry hard kicks I succeed in dislodging him from the warm spot, he immediately takes up his position close to me on one side and when rooted from there, he goes to the other side, and when beaten from there, makes a stand between my legs. This is going on at a time when I am cooking on the coals from the fireplace. Sometimes when I go away and leave the fire to go out, I find him on my return curled up between the firedogs among the warm ashes.
   July 2, 1858: Cattle hunting is exciting, but nothing to compare with a panther hunt, which was conducted by most of The Motts (Nuecestown) this time. After mustering the neighbors and their hounds, we started by moonlight for some trees on a prairie a few miles off, where a hunter had seen the fresh remains of a calf which the panther had killed and buried in the grass for a future meal.
   As soon as we came to the trees, we found the calf had been moved and more eaten off, and at the same moment the hounds started at full cry, but from the direction they were running we were afraid they were on the heel scent. Anyhow, we could not call them off and so kept after them as hard as we could across a rough prairie, til we came to a dense jungle of thorny bushes. Into this they ran him (for by this time we had but little doubt they were running him true), and after making it a little too hot for his earthly comfort, the dogs treed him.
   The thing now was to get through the bushes within sure shot of the tree, which four of us started to do, having to crawl on our bellies, and even then proceeding at the expense of our clothes, pieces of which we were leaving behind us. We had just arrived within easy shot and had poked our heads clear of the bushes to take aim when, and before we could do so, we saw him spring down and lose himself in the thicket. We were now standing almost immovably in the thorny mass, without being able to see more than a yard or two in either direction and the only way to get out was on our bellies, which might have been pleasant enough in some situations, but not quite so much so with a panther running about a few yards away.
   Before we reached the outside, the dogs had treed him again, and one of the party on the outside fired a long shot and wounded him. We each fired at him, but found we had to get in again before we could get a good shot. Another man and I fired together, both balls taking effect and he came tumbling down.
   We could hear from the cries of the dogs that a tooth and nail fight was going on, and we scrambled for the scene of the action, but before we could get there, the panther's combative organs were stilled in death. We found her to be a female and her cubs doubtless were not far off. She had been hit with four balls, one of which had only grazed the skin. We dragged her to the outside and put her on one of the horses and carried her to the first neighbors, where we skinned her, drew straws for the skin, which 'twas not my lot to draw, and then went home.

   (This is the first of two parts on Thomas Noakes. Part two will appear next Wednesday.)