Mountain Man Mike
Back in the days before brie and merlot replaced nettle hardtack and homebrew, the South End was a wild and woolier frontier than its gated communities and statuary-riddled estates might lead a Sunday driver to believe. Laws weren’t so much meant to be broken as they were just ignored. Most of us scofflaws were pretty harmless, but you live in a place beyond the reach of Rome, you’ll get a nastier sort too.
Mountain Man Mike lived up behind me with only a vicious barrier of nettles and blackberries to hold him at bay. Mike thought he was pretty much the Law unto himself, like a lot of us, but Mike had a cruel streak and a violent temper. Mountain Man rode his horse and his dogs up and down the highway and backcountry through what trails we kept open into the salmonberry jungles. He hunted deer out of season all year long, shot them and anything else that came into view. Rumor was he made vats of fresh killed varmint and fed the stew to his hounds. Wasn’t long before the Bambi population reached near zero. I gripe with the best over deer grazing our gardens and orchards, but I didn’t want them exterminated. And not by Mike.
Mike shot our neighbor’s dog one year. John came around looking for it and I said I hadn’t seen the pooch for more than a week, maybe check up back with Mountain Man. Which he did and Mike said yeah, I shot the sonofabitch, it was messing with the chickens. Mike’s wife was standing there and she said no it wasn’t messing with the chickens, you just wanted to kill her. Mike said get your sorry ass inside and to Johnny get his off my property. The sheriff came out next, issued a citation for killing the dog for which Mike paid $500 and gave his mizzus a black eye.
A few months later a couple of dogs were found tied together with baling wire and left to die in a field near Mike’s. I guess Mike figured better to kill them on the QT than just blast away with his rifle. Or maybe he found a new form for his sadism. My neighbor untied them and they both lived. Lucky dogs!
Mountain Man eventually divorced his wife and he’s moved somewhere north where hopefully the neighbors fence their dogs and kids and where shooting a rifle out back will bring the Law and I mean right now. Down here, we’re not going to miss him. Mike is exactly why we have laws in the first place and why, even on the South End, we don’t believe in Anarchy, despite rumors to the contrary.
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