Ceralvo.

My neighbor was a young girl in 1937, and was living in the old Barnard (Her grandparents) house, in Ceralvo, with her parents and other siblings. This house was used, at one time, as a hotel. Eddie and Carrie Heflin, and their children, watched the 1937 flood claim this house. What a dreadful feeling that must have been! It was not uncommon to see a building floating down the floodwater of the Green River in 1937. How terrible it must have been to see your home being claimed by the Green River! The family survived and eventually moved. There are a few of the siblings left and like most families, are scattered through out the country.

The McGuyer's owned some land to the right of the gravel road going to the church and the river. From the gravel road to the "Bottom Land", where I hunted, was a farm access road. It was a dirt road and included a large hill going down to the bottom land. Some of the time, we could drive to the "Bottoms", but most of the time, it was a long walk from the top of the hill. Of course, the flood of 1937 covered these bottom lands and about everything else in that area. At the bottom of the hill, the dirt road leveled off and the drainage from the bottoms was through a culvert under the road. It would not take a very big "Rise" of the Green River to start backing up the floodwater and cause the drainage ditch to fill and overflow its' banks. Regardless, hunting on the McGuyer property was great, if you could get there. Most of the time all would be successful, but the return trip, up that big hill to the car after a morning hunt, was an exhausting effort.

As great as the "McGuyer Bottoms" was to hunt, there just seems to be a better place to hunt and that place is just over the ridge or hill that you are approaching. Once a young boy becomes knowledgeable of a hunting area, the itch to see what is over the yonder hill becomes a challenge. The biggest thrill of any type of hunt is not in the "Collecting Of Game", but in the stories to be told after the hunt and as time evolves, the thrill seems to increase as the years pass. Even before my first solo hunting trip, I had heard stories about the abundance of game on "Hickory Ridge". The McGuyer Bottom Land was great and I always appreciated the fact that I had permission to hunt in that area. The knowledge of hearing about a nearby ridge called "Hickory Ridge" caused me to want to go to "Hickory Ridge" and I did. Most of my trips to "Hickory Ridge" were successful, and I can remember and recall a few trips that were very productive. The actual hunt and the "Tale", years later, are not necessarily in line with each other. One always seems to forget the bad trips and not only remember the good trips, but those trips always seem to get more successful and more enjoyable as the years pass. Good luck to any future hunters.

I would be remiss is I did not tell one story about Ceralvo and Hickory Ridge in particular and I have a good one to tell. I am getting away from the main topic of the flood, but this story does pertain to the Ceralvo area. Normally, a good squirrel hunt is with two or three people going to a hunting area large enough for all to spread out and to not see each other until the end of the hunt and then the stories can begin. One particular early morning during squirrel season, I exited my car after driving down the big hill that is above Ceralvo Bottoms and was able to walk and to be on Hickory Ridge by daybreak. It was dry and I wanted to wait under a cluster of hickory trees instead of a stalking or walking hunt. From about six until nine I had waited in that area with good hunting luck. I had five squirrels in my game bag and wanted the sixth to make my limit. Around nine-thirty, squirrel activity always slows, and I was pondering leaving when I saw movement some 70 yards from me. Soon I realized that it was a person and not any type of animal. I stood up and waved my hands to draw attention to the approaching person as I did not want to be shot. Then I noticed a bare-footed hunter that acknowledged my presence. Of all people, it was Bob Decker. He had two squirrels and was going on up further on the ridge to continue the hunt. I told him that I was through and was heading out. He looked at me and said that if I went in the direction he pointed, it would be a closer walk to my car. I followed his advice, as Bob Decker knew most of that area like the back of his hands. To this day, I have no idea how Bob was able to get to Ceralvo, let alone Hickory Ridge and it was the first time that I had ever seen a person hunt barefooted. My suspicion was that he had camped out in that area for a day or so and probably hitched a ride to Ceralvo. I have other stories on Bob as he was quite a character. Hope you enjoyed this one.

See you.   jrd