Good story, Sid.:laughing: I guess things like that are not quite as rare as most folks would expect. One night when I was a teenager, I went on a coon hunt with Dad's best friend who raised, trained, and sold coon hounds. It was a rather sadistic sport, in my opinion, because they never shot the coons, or even carried a gun; just jumped them out of the tree, to watch the fight, and see the dogs kill the coon. After one such kill, I picked up the "dead" coon and slung it over my shoulder and we started on, but I hadn't gone 25 yards before I felt that coon come back to life. Of course, I turned it loose and got out of the way as the dogs treed it again in another (very small) tree. So it was shook out of the tree and there was another fight before it was finally killed.