Newspapers, Woodlands and Waterways Echoes; LaSalle, Louisiana
Submitter: Jack Willis
Date: 29 Sep 2004
Source: Jena Times - Olla Tullos Signal "Woodlands and Waterways Echoes"
Source Date: 27 Mar 2002




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                 The Saga Of "Hanse" Kuhn, Part II

        Continuing the Life and Times of Joseph Clarence "Hanse" Kuhn

As stated before "Hanse" Kuhn is a born, not made, "yarner" and storyteller.
Before he cranks up to tell a tale, he goes through a certain regimen. He
gets a fresh cud of pouch tobacco, usually whatever is on sale. About half a
pouch gets him started. He gets it "seated " to his satisfaction, finds his
spit cup, gets a twinkle in his eye and begins. You just know when the
twinkle lights up, you're about to "get the britches put on you", but you
listen with rapt attention anyhow!
    Hanse learned to shoot a bow and arrow almost as soon as he learned to
walk. His Daddy dearly loved the big small mouth bass that abounded in
nearby Doyle's Branch and Gelvin's Creek. These were clear spring-fed creeks
that had their origins in the gravel deposits west of Whitehall. Hanse would
stalk the banks of these pristine streams until he found a hole with two or
three fish and set out to kill them with his own brand of "fish arrow." This
missile consisted of a piece of straight switch cane about five feet long,
with a barbed point driven up in the end joint, made from a hammered out
welding rod. The cane was straight because when Hanse cut the cane, he did
it when it was green. He tied one end to a tree limb with a weight hanging
on the other end. The switch cane had no choice but to dry straight. He
would capture four or five big trout in this manner, skin them out, cut them
up in filets, and fry them up for his Daddy's favorite meal.
    Somewhere in my nomadic wanderings in another life, I had heard that
Hanse had decided he would fashion his own bow, instead of using
"hand-me-downs" someone else had crafted.
    One of his sons happened to be working on bridge job where I was
inspecting, and caught him in a position where he was tying steel and asked
him if he had ever heard about the bow his Daddy was supposed to have
contrived? Before Dutch could answer, I launched into my version of how I'd
heard the tale told.
    As previously stated, Hanse decided he was going to make a bow of his
own design out of the heart of a hickory tree. He rode his horse up on a
choice hickory ridge, selected a hickory tree about 16 inches in diameter,
and felled the tree with a bucksaw. Took him about an hour between rests to
saw it down and   cut off a section about six feet long. He then tied his
lariat rope to it, and drug it home. He let it dry for about two years, and
decided it was time.
    He got a sledgehammer and some wedges, and set out to split out the
heart of the tree. Then he took his little three-and-a-half pound Kelly
Perfect axe and trimmed it down to the rough dimensions he desired. Next he
put it in a vise and began fine tuning it with a drawing knife. He looked
his finished handiwork, giving the unstrung bow a few test bends over and
decided it was going to take some kind of a strong string to hold the curve
of the bow in place. So he got a fellow who did cable splicing to make him a
string bout five feet long, out of a 3/16 steel cable, with an eyelet on
each end, He got ready to string the bow, but it was so resistant that he
couldn't latch the string over the other end of the bow. So he had to holler
for Mary Grace, his wife, to come help him bend the bow.
    Well, between the two of them, they finally got it strung and he got
ready to fire one of his fish arrows for the maiden shot. He nocked his
arrow against the cable-string, but didn't have enough strength to pull if
back with one hand. He finally lay down on the ground on his back and hooked
the bow over his two brogan shoes. In this position he was finally able to
pull the string back, using both hands. He then told Mary Grace to nock the
arrow and stand back.
    He pulled back on the cable with all of the strength he could muster,
and let 'er fly! Needless to say, the arrow went completely out of sight in
split-second.                 Meanwhile, Dutch is listening to me ramble on
with a stoic, expressionless face.
Hanse is supposed to have waited two or three minutes for the arrow to come
back down, and it never did. He finally gave up when Mary Grace said she had
a couple of fryers she wanted him to kill for Sunday dinner. He and Mary
Grace walked on around to the back yard to wring the chicken's necks. He had
just reached in the coop to grab one of the chickens, when he heard one of
his Catahoula cur dogs squall out with a blood-curdling yelp around towards
the front of his house. He quickly closed the chicken coop, and ran around
the house and looked on the front porch. There was the dog pinned to the
porch floor by the errant arrow. It had fallen back down through the porch
roof and nailed the dog to the floor. About this time Dutch kind of changed
his stone-faced expression, and I said, "You've heard this story before?"
And he said, "About 500 times...pinned him right through the flank."
    Then another time Hanse manufactured a crossbow out of an old leaf
spring off of a 1928 model automobile. He put it on a grinder until he got
it to the designed thickness, or in this case, the designed thinness he
wanted. The only way he could properly describe the power contained therein
was he said it was "hell for stout." He said it'd shoot a bolt through a
barn door.
     Hanse and one of his brothers spent a while one time up in Madison
Parish in the Tensas swamp trapping bears and cougars. The La. Wildlife and
Fisheries Dept. gave them five traps to work with. His brother took three of
the traps and he took two. Every time his brother captured an animal in his
trap, they'd always end up getting away. He just couldn't figure it out?
Hanse was catching something every night. His brother wanted to know his
formula for success. Hanse asked him how he was securing his traps. And he
told him he was chaining the traps to a tree or something real steady. He
told his brother, "Well, there's your trouble...that gives them something
solid to work against to get loose." What Hanse was doing was nailing his
trap chain to a log about 8" in diameter and about 6 ' long. The animal
would drag that log until he was worn out and Hanse could then dispense him
with a single pistol shot. He said him and Mary Grace canned a bear one
time. He said he found bear meat quire tasty.
    In my opinion the reason it's so interesting to talk with or about Hanse
Kuhn, is that the man is so multifaceted in his knowledge of wild animals
and wood lore. You never get to a stopping place...you just have to quit. It
is a pleasure to see a man who has seen rough times, including the Great
Depression, tough as a Catahoula cur, and still have such a love of life
after almost a full century on this earth. I don't want to stay away too
long before the next visit. I know he'll have another fresh tale ready from
the archives of the life and times of Hanse Kuhn.

W&WE (3-27-02)          Jack Morgan Willis