The sun was high in the sky before I had dug Old Dan out.
He was a sight to see, nothing but mud from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail.
I held on to his collar and led him down to the river to wash him off.
The water there was much warmer than the cold spring water of the slough.
After washing him, I turned him loose. Right back to the hole he ran.
Little Ann was already digging. I knew the coon was still there. Working together, we dug him out.
After the coon was killed, I saw what had made him so smart.
His right front foot was twisted and shriveled. At one time he must have been caught in a trap and had pulled himself free.
He was an old coon. His face was almost white. He was big and heavy and had beautiful fur.
Tired, muddy, wet, and hungry, I started for home.
I’ve often wondered how Old Dan got into that old muskrat den.
Perhaps there was another entrance I had overlooked. I’ll never know.
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