he son of the
miller. His father operated a sawmill on Bledsoe Creek near where it
empties into the Coumberland river. George and I often went fishing
together and had a good dog called Hector. Hector was as good a coon dog
as there was to be found in that part of the country. That day we boys
climbed up on the mill shed to watch the swans in Bledsoe Creek and we
soon noticed a great big fish hawk catching the goslings. It made us mad
and we decided to kill the hawk. I went back to the house and got an old
flint lock rifle Mars. Mooney had let me carry when we went hunting.
When I got back where George was, the big bird was still busy catching
goslings. The first shot I fired broke its wing and I decided I would
catch it and take it home with me. The bird put up a terrible fight,
cutting me with its bill and talons. Hector came running and tried to
help me but the bird cut him until his howls brought help from the
field. Mr. Jacob Greene was passing along and came to us. He tore me
away from the bird but I could not walk and the blood was running from
my body in dozens of places. Poor old Hector, was crippled and bleeding
for the bird was a big eagle and would have killed both of us if help
had not come." The old negro man still shows signs of his encounter with
the eagle. He said it was captured and lived about four months in
captivity but its wing never healed. The body of the eagle was stuffed
with wheat bran, by Greene Harris, and placed in the court yard in
Sumner County. "The Civil War changed things at the Mooney plantation,"
said the old man. "Before the War Mr. Mooney never had been cruel to me.
I was Mistress Puss's property and she would never have allowed me to be
abused, but some of the other slaves endured the most cruel treatment
and were worked nearly to death."

Uncle Joe's memory of slavery embraces the whole story of bondage and
the helpless position held by strong bodied men and women of a hardy
race, overpowered by the narrow ideals of slave owners and cruel
overseerers. "When I was a little bitsy child and still lived with Mr.
Gardner," said the old man, "I saw many of the slaves beaten to death.
Master Gardner didn't do any of the whippin' but every few months he
sent to Mississippi for negro rulers to come to the plantation and whip
all the negroes that had not obeyed the overseers. A big barrel lay near
the barn and that was always the whippin place." Uncle Joe remembers two
or three professiona