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preneur in those days. “A skunk might smell bad to you, but they smelled pretty good to me when their pelts were worth $2.25 each. I made a $1 a day working on the farm.” Do the math, he said.
Larrabee didn’t miss the extra skunks, but to overcome the lack of more desirable hunting quarry for his hounds, he imported six red deer from England. A few hours before the hunt meet, one of the deer would be carted to the fixture via wagon pulled by two mules. The deer was then turned loose.
Hounds, let go soon after, would promptly find the trail and off they went. Hounds were called off when they had the deer at bay. Poe said the deer quickly learned they would find sanctuary in the rickety mule cart, which would pick them up for return to Larrabee’s farm.
Poe recollects one particularly memorable afternoon when still in grade school. Bored, he peered out the window just in time to see a stag that had given Larrabee’s hounds the slip run past the school, closely pursued by Mr. Tripplett’s farmer’s pack. A neighbor’s horse had jumped out of his paddock to join the fun.
Young Poe excitedly explained to his teacher that he must catch his neighbor’s horse, and thus was in on the spectacle of the deer running round and round, and in and out, of one of
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