Christmas in Pinebluff during the 1950s was a magical time.

Every day of the holidays was packed with things to do, including the major tradition of decorating our home. This involved every member of the family; but finding holly and mistletoe was my job, and I took it seriously.

From Thanksgiving on, during my many forays afield, I would be on the lookout for a likely holly tree with lots of berries and also a good batch of mistletoe. I would mentally note the location. Then when the time was right (and timing was everything), I would grab my shotgun, (there was always a chance that a mad squirrel or quail might attack), whistle up Smut, my dog, and mount an expedition into the wilds to retrieve nature’s decorations. The worse the weather, the better.

One special Christmas found me and Smut close to Addor on a combination decorating and hunting trip. Morning had dawned with a fiery red sunrise. Dad told me, as he headed to work, not to venture too far from home because of the rough weather expected.

This was before the weather channel, and prognostication became such a fine science. More often than not, the weatherman would predict sunshine, and it would rain. Consequently, when Smut and I headed out later that morning, we didn’t think about the darkening clouds to the west. We were on a mission, and if a blizzard came, so much the better.

We did notice, though that it was considerably colder than it had been earlier.

Addor is about three miles south of Pinebluff, not as the crow flies but as the railroad tracks run. I found early in my hunting career that the best way to hunt unknown property was to walk the tracks. They act as a border. When you ventured into the woods to the west from the tracks that ran north- south, they provided a built-in compass. You couldn’t get lost. Or that was what I thought.

There was a huge holly tree relatively close to the railroad tracks that I had discovered while dove hunting earlier in the fall. The tree was loaded with berries, and I made a mental note to put it on my list for a possible source for decorations. The holly tree bordered a swamp that also looked as if it would produce some major mistletoe.

Johnny Mills, a good friend of mine, and I had talked about a potential harvest of mistletoe to sell to the Yankees who come down every winter; so I was constantly on the lookout for likely sources.

Smut and I finally found the holly tree after a long search. Everything looks different in the winter, and the tree was farther in the woods than I had thought, but it was magnificent.

I had a big burlap sack to hold the holly as well as any mistletoe that I might find. So after I loaded up with holly, I headed around the perimeter of the swamp for my second objective. As luck would have it, I got to the head of the swamp and a wood duck jumped up at the edge of the creek. I knocked it down, Smut leaped after it, and the hunt was on.

After a long search, Smut finally found the duck and retrieved it for me. I had forgotten about the mistletoe. When the duck was in my hunting coat, though, we settled down to the objective at hand. Then I realized that it was indeed noticeably colder and was also rapidly getting darker.

That’s when I saw the world’s largest bunch of mistletoe. It was nestled in the very top of a gum tree in the middle of the swamp.

“What the heck,” I thought to myself. “We have enough time to give it a try.”

So Smut and I headed to the center of what turned into an impenetrable quagmire.

After trying several different ways to make it to the base of the gum tree, I decided that it would be best to come back when we had more daylight and when it was not quite as cold, so we headed back to the tracks. The problem was we couldn’t find the tracks. Somehow during all the commotion of the duck and mistletoe, I had gotten turned around.

Then it began to snow. It was completely dark, and snow was coming down as hard as I had seen it in a long time.

My feelings soared between fear at being lost and the great joy of a Christmas snow. I really wasn’t that concerned though. Having trekked these woods many times, I knew that if I headed due west, I would soon run into a highway at Addor. Only one question, which way was west?

Smut and I left the swamp and headed for high ground, and after an hour or two of dead reckoning, walked out on the Troutman farm just as Mr. Troutman was coming out of his house, heading toward his pickup.

“Tommy, what you doing out in this weather?” Mr. Troutman asked as I walked up to his truck.

“Looking for some mistletoe and doing some duck hunting,” I replied, nonchalantly.

“Well,” he said, “Looks like you might need a ride into town. I’m heading that way for some groceries. Seems like this is setting in to be a big snow.”

“Well, I appreciate it. It’s a long walk back to my house.”

Smut jumped into the back of the truck and we headed toward Pinebluff.

“Find any mistletoe?” Mr. Troutman asked as we slowly drove through the snow.

“Yes sir,” I replied. “The biggest bunch I’ve ever seen. The only problem is finding it again. It was snowing pretty hard when we left the tree it was in and I don’t know if I can get back to that same spot.”

Snow fell heavier as the old truck bumped and rattled toward my home. Smut cuddled in a corner of the truck bed, and Mr. Troutman turned up the heater inside.

The heat felt good. It was going to be a great Christmas.