Tag Archives: hunting

October 28, 1925 (Ina)

Wednesday Nite.
Oct. 28, 1925.

My dearest Walter:

No letter today, but I’m hoping I’ll get a nice long one tomorrow.

This has been the coldest day we have had this season. There has been a stiff honest-to-goodness norther blowing all day and it looks as though it might snow any minute – of course it won’t though. It seems unusually cold because it was so long coming. That is the reason we notice the winters here so much – it is realy cold one day and perhaps regular summer weather the next. We don’t get adjusted to one before the other extreme hits us. Is it really as warm on the Beach now as you expected? I was wondering if it was warm enough every day now to go in the surf. I hadn’t heard you mention going in in quite a while, and I wondered if it was too cool. I imagine it is very delightful down there in the winter even though it might be too cool at times to go in the surf. I feel like we are going to be so happy there together this winter.

October 28, 1925 (Ina)

October 28, 1925 (Ina)

Papa says that today has been a fine one for hunting ducks, but I notice he doesn’t talk very enthusiastically about facing the brisk wind. Of course I’m just “wild”? to do it – the fire does feel mighty good though. At any rate, I have found out that it really is duck season, so I expect to go with him soon.

I love you, Sweetheart, heaps and heaps.

Always, your
Ina.

October 26, 1925

Monday Nite.
Oct. 26, 1925.

My dearest Sweetheart:

I wonder if you have noticed how perfectly beautiful the moonlight is tonight! If you haven’t, you should go right now and take a look. The swing looks a little too cold to be inviting, even in the moonlight, but we have a big fine fire in the fireplace that would be ideal to sit before to enjoy a long confidential chat this evening. My, how I wish you were here, Sweetheart! But I know that it will not be so very very long before we can enjoy all our evenings together and then we will be so happy.

October 26, 1925

October 26, 1925

I didn’t get a letter today, but I feel sure one will come tomorrow.

This afternoon I became so drowsy from being around the fire almost all day, so I took a two mile hike all alone. I wish you had been here to go with me. It was just cool enough to be pleasant, and the fresh cold air was very invigorating. I expect to go duck hunting (now I didn’t say that aloud, because I don’t know for sure whether it is in season or not) soon with Papa. He killed some ducks down on the slough back of our house a few afternoons ago, and says there are usually a good many down there lately. I don’t know what luck I will have, but I want the experience anyhow.

Sweetheart, I love you and think of you an awful lot – ‘most all the time, in fact.

Always, your
Ina.

September 21, 1925 (Ina)

Monday Night.
Sept. 21, 1925.

My dearest Walter:

I spent today with Thelma and the children and we had a good time. Thelma and I were busy about half the day making a dress for Thelma Lee. I brought both the children home with me, so they are making things lively for us this evening. They donate a few cats to our flock occasionally, then come out here to play with them.

September 21, 1925 (Ina)

September 21, 1925 (Ina)

I saw Dr. Bowman down town yesterday morning and he told me of the Medical Association article he received from you and said he read it all very carefully, enjoying and appreciating it. I sincerely hope you will be successful in the work you have taken up since Dr. White left. I certainly can’t see any harm in your keeping quiet about it to him, because it is yours and not his.

I’ll bet you can’t guess what I saw as I was going down town this morning about 9:30. As I was driving leisurely along just beyond “Claudelle’s and my hill” I saw something, I mean two somethings, jump the fence at my left about 30 ft. ahead, and I was honestly stunned to see two big deer (they didn’t have any horns either) run across the road in front of the car and jump the right hand fence, finally disappearing across the guajilla ridge beyond. I was so surprised that I could hardly believe my eyes. I wish you could have been with me, Sweetheart, to have seen them too. If they had had horns and it had been in season, it would have been fine, wouldn’t it? I believe even I could have killed them both easily if I hadn’t been so excited and, too, if I had the nerve, but honestly, they are such beautiful, graceful and (quoting Mrs. Roark’s description of the calf she saw) innocent looking creatures, I don’t believe I could do it.*

The coffee is coming fine. I really do like it now, almost as well as I do cocoa, and I know that I shall soon like it as well if not better. No, Dear, I wouldn’t want you to think of giving it up because you like it better than I did cocoa. I have been wanting to like coffee for a long time but just hadn’t had the nerve to start. I am so glad now that I did start because it is almost perfectly good already.

By the way, I had the nicest dream last night. I dreamed that you and I were married and were visiting in Mississippi. Before going to your mother’s home, we went to a church social (I’m sure that’s the first place you would want to go!?) and there I met your Mother. I dreamed that she was so sweet and that I fell in love with her at once. I know that she is sweet and that I am going to love her lots.

I also love you lots, Sweetheart, and then lots and lots more. I love to think of you in the daytime and dream of you at night.

Yours, forever,
Ina.

*Ina is being modest about her hunting skills. She was an excellent shot, and would have had no trouble taking down a deer at 30 feet.

August 22, 1925

Saturday Night,

My Dear Sweetheart,

It was a little late when I came home last night and Dr. White was asleep. I gave the letter from Atlantic Beach to a trainman (flagman) and he promised to post it in Jax, so if that one seems to come thru a little quicker that probably accounts for it.

This afternoon the little boy across the street, Betha Hill, 14, and I went hunting. He has been helping me trap since I have been down here, but works every week day with his father (a plumber), so we had to plan the hunting on Sat PM when he was not working. His father went with us in their Ford, and we drove about twelve miles south, to what is known as Palm Valley. There were palms in the valley and palmettos too, but there was no town. The roads were very narrow and crooked. We did not find anything to shoot, but killed the afternoon and had a good time. It was the first time I had been south of the beach here and I was interested in the country. We had quite a little experience in coming back, as we found a high tide and with about five miles driving on it. We were either driving in soft sand or in the water. It wasn’t funny, as there was a northeastern wind beginning which carried the water pretty high. At one time it got into the carburetor and killed the engine. It was getting rougher all the time and we felt fortunate that we got off the beach when we did. It is blowing pretty hard now and I have been told that the “North Easternsers” usually continue for 3, 6 or 9 days at about the same speed. Since it is over I am glad that I have had the experience on the beach during a high tide as I will be cautious when you are with me. It is hardly possible that a person could drown as the water is not deep, but it would be disagreeable to experience. Besides, you might get your “Sunday dress” wet with salt water. (Remember what Thelma Lee said about my “good pants” when you and I were caught in the rain).

August 22, 1925

August 22, 1925

The day has passed rather quickly, but I miss your letter. The post office had closed when we got back tonight so I have it to look forward to for tomorrow. Wish I could see you instead. I’d hug you so hard. I certainly do love you, Sweetheart, and I hope we will always feel the same as we do now.

I had a mighty nice letter from a Mr. Roy Watson of Caxambas a few days ago. He had written to Dr. Howard and his letter had been given to Mr. Bishopp. I wrote to him to find out the nature of his trouble and he came back with a long letter. What is known as “sand flies” which are small biting gnats are of considerable annoyance on the southwest coast. I am planning to spend at least two weeks with him when I go down the state. I would prefer to work on these, before you are with me in Florida, as I do not care to be located where they are going to bite you and I. You can bet that I am thinking of you, and I want to be able to locate where we will not be troubled in that way.

I love you, Honey, and I want you. With a sweet goodnight, I am,

Always your,
Walter

August 23, 1924

Jacksonville Fla
Sat. Night.

My Dear Ina,

This is a short letter to answer your nice long one with but I have just gotten the Kodak enlargements and I want to send them tonight. I am having one of the sitting pose framed for yourself and it will follow about the middle of next week. This will make one of each for yourself and one of each for your mother. I am returning the photo she so kindly loaned, though I doubt if she expected me to return it. It was mighty nice of her and I appreciate it very much. The Kodak pictures are so much like yourself, as you are now, that they are just right, and I really don’t care so much for a regular pose picture. I think these are real natural and they are just what I wanted. Sometime when you have a house dress on and can have a Kodak picture made, I would like one. Let it be natural, and I don’t care if it is made on the back steps with a kitchen broom. Have Claudelle make one of you wearing a bungalow apron and before you eat breakfast. If it is made during your vacation I am sure that it will be bright enough outside at that time. (Don’t throw anything at me) I wouldn’t get up early either if I were you.

August 23, 1924

August 23, 1924

I note with interest about the squirrel hunt, and since I became pretty well acquainted with the Regan Wells squirrels while there I can understand why you didn’t get any. They don’t get up very early. “The early bird gets the worm” but there isn’t any advantage in getting up before the worm does. I had always shot squirrels early in the morning and in the evening, but at Regan Wells the best time is about noon, unless you have a dog. Even then a person won’t have much luck at still hunting. As you drive along the road at noon they cross ahead of you frequently, and at this time I have shot from 3 to 5 in driving only two or three miles. I did this most every day at Regans, and kept the Brundretts pretty well supplied. However, I rather envy someone the opportunity of going hunting with you, and I can readily understand why he couldn’t see a squirrel. Under the same circumstances I probably would not have seen any squirrels either. (This is intended as a compliment).

I am expecting Dr. K-S to return tonight and I’ll probably take up all of his time tomorrow on account of the developments since he left. He wrote to his office nurse that a spirochaete was a pretty small thing for me to find and that had I been in Tennessee and used a little of their “home brew” I probably would have found a much larger thing. But even that would not equal his nightmare at about the time the clinic closed. He chased what we call a “Larva Migrans” under his bed and down the stairway. He said it was about 2-1/2 feet long. (The thing is really microscopic and we’ve called it “larva migrans” because no one knew what it was).

Had a letter from Bishopp today saying that he didn’t recognize the organisms shipped by myself. I couldn’t expect him to for it isn’t what an entomologist would be familiar with. I doubt if the thing has even been described or known to anyone in a scientific way. He had just returned from New York City, where I presume he took the boys. I know the daughter had been there, but it was new to the younger children.

It is now 12 o’clock and it will be Sunday before I start to the hotel.

Sweet dreams,

Always
Walter.

August 20, 1924

Wednesday A.M.
Aug. 20, 1924

Dear Walter:

I wonder what you are doing this morning – hard at work though I suppose. It still seems a little strange to me to stay at home and let other folks do the work at the office but I am really enjoying it. Claudelle works there a great deal of the time, and there is another girl working there also a great deal of the time while I am away. They work until late at night every few nights. At first I insisted on going back and cutting my vacation short, but my employer would not listen to such a thing, so I expect to take the full month.

August 20, 1924

August 20, 1924

I had a new experience Monday. I had never been squirrel hunting before, so I set my alarm for four o’clock that morning and a friend of mine and I started up in the Frio Canyon to a ranch near Reagan Wells to kill squirrels. We stopped and cooked and ate our breakfast on the way, and arrived at the ranch just in time, we thought, to kill lots of squirrels. However, they certainly must have heard us coming, because they succeeded so well in hiding themselves that we couldn’t find a one. We became discouraged and decided to go across the Divide into the main Frio Canyon and stop by at the “shut-in” to spend a few minutes with some friends. We did so and saw two squirrels on the way but did not succeed in killing either of them. So our experiences with those little animals were very unsatisfactory. We passed the hotel at Reagan Wells, and everything looked very much deserted that morning. All the scenery around there brought back very vividly to my mind the pleasant Sunday I spent up there.

You will notice that I am enclosing the negatives you requested. At least I suppose they are the proper ones. You are very good at giving vivid descriptions. It is mighty nice of you to think enough of the pictures to want them enlarged. Mama and I appreciate your thinking of sending us one.

I am so anxious to know what that is that you spoke of in your letter that you were going to tell me the next time you saw me. I hope it will not be long before I find out what it is. Your last letter sounded more encouraging about your coming in September than usual. It made me feel good, and I sincerely hope you can do it.

Two of the young men with whom I have been going have left town leaving only two with whom I go regularly. I don’t mention my dates in writing to you much just simply because I am afraid you will think I am trying to impress you as being very “popular.” I am certainly not trying to do anything of the kind, and I sincerely hope you will understand that I am not. I just feel like I want to tell you the things that I do, and I can’t do that without mentioning a date occasionally. I will trust you not to get the wrong impression.

With the exception of three times last summer, I had never been on mixed bathing parties until this summer. Mama and Papa did not approve of them and neither did I. However, the weather became so hot and swimming so popular that Mama and Papa would take their daughters out for a swim. Since practically everybody in Uvalde went to the same place to swim of course it amounted to about the same thing as taking your swimming party along with you. They finally decided that there really wasn’t any harm in it after all, consequently I go on swimming parties often. Mama and Papa enjoy swimming now as much if not more than we do. We go to the picture show once or twice a week, so these two things are the principal amusements for the young people of Uvalde. Of course they have dances occasionally, but as I told you before, I don’t go to those.

I am anxious to know of any further developments in your work. That certainly must be a very peculiar malady, and extremely interesting. I know you enjoy working with Dr. Kirby-Smith, and I certainly think he uses excellent taste in choosing a companion with whom to work. I hope it will be so that you can continue the investigation and complete it with him, and I sincerely hope you all will receive the proper credit. When you have put your whole heart into a thing and have worked hard, you certainly do want to receive credit for what you have done. As I said before, I am awfully proud of the work that you have done.

Sincerely,
Ina