Schol Pyke
Mr Scholasticus Pyke was one of the three original founding members of the Hunters Association of Trinidad & Tobago. This was the very first hunters' association to be formed in T&T.
HUNTING IN 1936
I started hunting in 1936, while I was working at the Magistracy and in 1945, I imported my first hound, from the USA - Big Cheizer. After that I imported a number of hounds. At that time, I hunted with George Sutherland, Pat Gibbon (Roger’s father) and Alfie Date. Later on I had my own pack consisting of Baggy Lake, Frank Commissiong, George Sutherland and we continued hunting together until 1952 or a little later.
My Sundays were taken up with hunting. While I was at the Revenue, I was invited to sit on the Wildlife Conservation Body run by the Conservator of Forests. We worked on revising the Wildlife Conservation Act. Minister of Agriculture, Kamaluddin Mohammed agreed to the draft and it was passed. Although it passed in Parliament, certain members of our committee decided to write the Minister not to proclaim the Act. They were members of the Executive Committee and had approved the Hunters Association of Trinidad and Tobago’s participation in the Act. Those members were eventually suspended from HATT Executive Committee. After a good deal of campaigning by Richard Ffrench and I, the Act, No 16 of 1958, was promulgated. Hunters were accustomed to hunting year-round and they could not accept that for six months of the year they would be unable to hunt. They could exercise their hound with permit from the Conservator of Forests. From ’55 onwards, I imported 37 hounds from the US and England. Two were Welsh hounds – two came with me in 1960.
CARONI SWAMP 1961
In 1961, we had this awful accident in Caroni Swamp. Maurice De Verteuil, Henri De Verteuil and an employee of Henri in a speed boat leased at the Light House jetty. Five of us in Adalbert’s pirogue. We had a nice shoot but during the course of the hunt, Adalbert’s engine was breaking cutter pins and we decided to come in under tow. Just at that time, we were being affected by the tail end of Hurricane Hattie and it was impossible to use the channel leading from Caroni to Sea Lots. We turned back to Blue River and came out into the open sea. The first wave swamped the pirogue. We cut the tow line. The next wave overturned the speed boat bow over stern. All were thrown into the water. There were five of us in Adalbert Joseph’s boat: Sonny Austin, Eric Oliver, Christopher Peters, Adalbert and I. Eric and Christopher disappeared. We held Adalbert over the hull of the boat but he had suffered a heart attack and we couldn’t save him. I was holding on to one of the stanchions. The boat was eventually washed up on mud flats leading to the Caroni River. We had to sit with our backs to the river and propel ourselves to the river. A boat took me to the fish market near the Lighthouse jetty and I got a drop to Marine Branch at South Quay and Broadway – they referred me to Central Police Station. From there I rang Lee Boulon and my wife, Sylvia. Lee came to meet me. We picked up Henri and Maurice, got an engine and flat-bottom boat from David Moore, Conservator of Forests, who came immediately and took the boat and engine to Caroni Swamp. He told me to go home, brought them down and got them transport to go home, All of the guns in Adalbert’s boat were lost except one belonging to Sonny Austin. Sonny’s father gave me that gun and insisted that I go out to hunt soon, that same hunting season or the following year. The first shot I made with that gun, I would have been blinded, if I hadn’t been wearing glasses, by the amount of sand that came out of it. But I couldn’t possibly continue duck hunting again, because w e had a team that would put down our decoy and had some warning others. Every time a duck came from behind I would imagine the voice of my fellow hunters. One thing that impressed me was the cooperation of David Moore, an expatriate, who has remained my friend up to this day. Every time he comes from Scotland he comes to see me. Hi s wife died just the other day (2006) and just like Sylvia, she was confined to bed for a couple of years. I shudder to think what would have happened if that incident had taken place in 2005. The day after the incident, CL Williams, Commissioner of Inland Revenue and David Moore came to see me. I suffered no ill effects. The boys used to tease me by Hugh Gittens – “Schol, here, hold that.” Nevertheless, it was an awful experience.
All of those chaps who died: Eric Oliver, Sonny Austin, Christopher Peters and Adalbert Joseph, hunted with me every Sunday, except Sonny who hunted agouti. After the incident, Christopher’s brother Edward, continued hunting with me for a long time. Edward met his death by accident. He drove a delivery truck for the Guardian and he was going south, when a drunken prison officer hit two vehicles and he also died.
Those were the days of the curfew. I had to get a permit to go and inform his wife. She then needed to go to Todd’s Road to inform his parents. I walked into the San Juan Police Station and a policeman stuck a rifle in my chest.
After Christopher died, Edward used to take the hounds out. I gave him the Opel Capitan, which he used for that purpose. We hunted in Talparo for a number of years, then back to Todd’s Road. Lance Sankar was my bushman. He lived at Todd’s Road and he always drank too much, especially at Christmas time. In the 1980s, I lost three hunting partners, Lance, Francis and an old fellow named Chandrika Maraj. After Lance died, Edward took the hounds to Tableland. His bushman used to take care of the hounds, but we had to split up the pack. I took some and Lance’s cousins took some. They turned out to be very unreliable; they lined the dogs all over the place without my permission. So then, I took my dogs and started keeping them at home. It was then that I started hunting with John Apang. We had a good time hunting then we gave up one month (March) and the months of April-September were kept as the closed season.
POLICY
The first good hound I got was a present from Sylvia. She was working at Wm H Scott at the time and one of her co-workers, a Georgie Robinson, who kept hounds, mentioned that he was selling a bitch named Policy.
Policy was an excellent hound and very intelligent. One time we were hunting on Sassa Trace, off Manuel Congo Road going along the road to Talparo from the Churchill Roosevelt Highway, a road crossing the Agua Santa River. Policy was chasing a deer but lost the scent in the river. She hunted until she found back the scent of that deer. Meanwhile some other dogs had picked up the scent of another deer and Zag made a shot at that one and missed. Hearing Policy trailing, we went and brought her up to where the other deer had passed. She refused to follow the trail of that other deer and looked at us with a puzzled look as if to say, “Why did you bring me up here?” After Policy, I got two nice young hounds, Storm and Blossom. Storm was leader of my pack for years. The first day I took this hound out, I was hunting with Pat Gibbon. At that time he was living with his parents in Five Rivers. Pat’s hound Blackie barked and then I heard another dog barking. Storm had never been out of the kennel but he started trailing that first day. He was a perfect deer hound. I got tree dogs out of Policy; I gave Georgie one and kept two.
DUKE
An old shop keeper had given me Duke as a pup, around ‘34-‘35. At that time I was living with my sister Irene on Belmont Valley Road. One Saturday morning I rode to the Prison with Duke by my side. I took Duke and my bicycle on the Prison van (it used to collect prisoners at Carrera). Then I rode to Chaguaramas to hunt that night. When we came back at around 3 a.m., Frank Commissiong tied him under the house. Next morning, there was a cricket match there at Grand Bois – the Americans later changed the name to Grand Wood – I went to watch the match, had dinner, then started playing Wist. Irene came up the road very excited – uncle Jules, where is Schol? He’s here – Irene gave a big sigh – Apparently the dog missed me, got his chain out and walked from Chagaramas to Belmont Valley Road. This was the first time that dog had ever been to Chaguaramas; the first time that dog had ever left home, yet he found his way back home. Naturally Irene had thought something had happened to me.
ANOTHER DOG STORY
Eric James was a chap who used to hunt with me in the 1950s. He lived in Arouca and worked as a pharmacist. We went to hunt in Wallerfield – the Americans had just left – the dogs picked up a deer and ran it through the night. Eric left around 4 o’clock in the morning, because he had to go to work. He left work early, around 3 p.m., went home, changed and was driving along the Churchill Roosevelt Highway towards Wallerfield. When he reached where Bestcrete is now, he saw his two hounds walking along the grass verge, apparently heading home. These hounds have an amazing homing instinct.
WALTER SMITH AND THE DEER
Leontine Joseph was married to Dr Cyril Joseph (father of the boxer/wrestler, Ray). We lived in Belmont at the corner of Erthig Road and Belmont Circular Road. The house we lived in overlooked one on Reid Lane occupied by Walter Smith, a hunter. Cyril’s father kept deer in his yard. Someone came into his yard and left the gate open. The buck went out into Reid Lane and into Walter Smith’s yard. Walter closed his gate and called out to me, “Schol, bring a couple dogs; a deer in the yard.” When I looked out Walter had his skinning knife out and was sharpening it. “No, no, this is Dr. Joseph’s deer! He living ‘round the corner.” Walter was so vexed. He said I deprived him of the deer. Meanwhile Dr. Joseph had been searching all over for his deer.
Walter used to hunt with me. One day, we were going to hunt in Todd’s Road. Walter used shop twine to tie a common dog he used for hunting. On the way we stopped at Frank Commissiong’s house on Jubilee Street to pick up some dogs. The dog got away from Walter and ran down past the Eastern Main Road into the cemetery. Well, we went as planned to Todd’s Road and the dog found its way from Tunapuna to Todd’s Road. Walter had bought the dog from someone at Todd’s Road. I had a couple of chains and I gave one to Walter . “Here, put a chain on that blasted dog. He was too mean to buy a chain, which was why he had used the twine.
Well, at Todd’s Road, there was a young fellow about 12-14 years old, Christopher Peters, who used to accompany us. He knew the area well. While we were there, the dogs were chasing and the deer walked up the road. Walter made a shot and missed the deer. The deer stood up and looked at Walter. Christopher slapped his leg. “The next barrel, Mr. Walter, the next barrel.” Well, when I told the guys the story, Walter declared, “I ain’t hunting with no little schoolboys again.” He was ashamed because the guys found out. Years after, Christopher Peters (he drowned in 1961) and I were on that same road. He asked me, “Schol, you remember here? The next barrel.” We used to have a lot of fun.
Walter felt he had to get back at me for that embarrassment. Well, he had his opportunity. We were hunting one day outside an enclosed savannah where there were some cows. The dogs were trailing all around Walter Smith. I was standing on a row of barbed wire, teasing Walter, “What happen, you can’t get a level?” The deer came towards me, I pulled a shot but the top row of barbed wire stopped the arc of my gun and I missed. The deer passed right between my legs. Walter came to where I was working and talking at the top of his voice, “Scholaas, I hear you mees a deer in you fooot!”
In those days there were a lot of cocoa estates owned by French people who were not resident in Trinidad. On the right hand side of the Eastern Main Road in Arima, just after Pinto Road, there was an estate owned by people called Teramie. We used to go and hunt in there, between Cocorite Road and the Churchill Roosevelt Highway. We were chasing a deer. I was on a bridge over a river just after Pinto. Frank Commissiong was ahead of me. A deer walked right up to him. Frank had a single barrel shotgun. “Frank, make a shot!” Frank held up the shotgun to the deer and started telling the deer, “Shoo! Shoo!” The deer passed right by him. I had a double barrel and I shot after he was out of range. What had happened was that the pin was stuck in the cartridge and he couldn’t get the gun to open to put in another cartridge. Frank had lost his left hand. He had a vicious dog. One of my dogs, King, was tied behind the drivers seat. His dog got away and rushed King. Frank was sitting in the passenger’s seat. Instead of holding his dog, he stretched out his arm and was bitten. He started bawling, “Is mih only hand!” Fortunately, it was my dog that bit him and it wasn’t a bad bite.
We used to hunt with Jules De Coteau, who lived on Observatory Street. Now, our arrangement was that every man had to sub up for expenses. We waited for Jules. After a long time, “The woman take the money out mih pocket.” Errol Burnett paid his share for him and the next time he told him, “The charge for hunting is x dollars. I want it now. I don’t want you to put it in your pocket for your wife to take.” Whenever we were going to hunt he would always be short of money, yet want to buy rum for the boys, and then have no money for the bus.
From Belmont Valley Road, we used to hunt deer in the Valley Road. On the left hand side there was a silk cotton tree and we would hunt there over into Cascade before the Lady Young Road was built and on Mon Repos Road, Morvant, before the Catholic Church. A bushman would carry the deer on his back. Errol lived on the first road on the left, Behamie Lane. We would go there to skin the deer before sharing the meat among ourselves.
