CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—MY FRIEND PAUL KUTY

Chapter 17—My Friend Paul Kuty

     I met Paul Kuty on the school bus shortly after his family moved to Continental Village. He was tall, thin and he had red hair. He lived at or near No. 137 (Google maps) Putnam Road. He was my age and we instantly became friends. He had an active mind and an adventuresome spirit. He had several hobbies and each hobby was seriously pursued in season.

     Paul collected stamps and mailed for "approvals" from stamp companies. I did the same. He started a butterfly collection. He caught Rhopalocera in long-handle butterfly nets and used chloroform to kill them. He carefully placed them in a book and labeled them with the Latin and English names. He also used chloroform to kill chipmonks which we caught in live traps. Together we skinned the chipmonks—the skin was thin and our razors often cut through. We cured the skins with salt, and hung them on the walls of the Kuty hut which was located near Paul's house. We had possum and skunk skins hanging on the walls too. Paul's mother refused to enter the hut because of the stink associated with it.

     Paul also had a subscription to "Fur Fish and Game" magazine. In one issue he found a recipe for a raccoon bait to be placed near a trap. I remember wading in knee deep water of Sprout Brook, north of the junction of Winston and Sprout Brook Roads, and collecting fresh water mussels to incorporate as part of the recipe. The place where we waded was also the place, many years ago, smallpox-inoculated Joseph Plumb Martin waded with other Continental soldiers when spearing suckers in the summer of 1777. I don't recall the other ingredients of the recipe but I remember the awful stink of it, and how we threw it away after failing to attract animals to our traps. Too stinky for them too.

     An incident I can't forget occurred while attempting to catch butterflies. I saw a robin on an old horse path near Paul's house and pointed to it. Paul saw it too. The robin saw us approaching but was listening to an earthworm and did not fly away. I dropped my butterfly net, picked up a stone and threw it at the robin, instantly killing it. Paul was amazed. The robin was about 100 feet away when I threw the stone. At the time neither of us had any remorse or second thoughts about it.

     Paul had a temper. So did I. To make matters worse, when we first met we both wanted to lead the other boys and make decisions. This often made us competitive rather than collaborative. It resulted in a long drawn out fight during a pickup baseball game in an open lot near my house. I don't remember what caused the fight. Cliff Holmes, Wayne Matthews and Ray Kuty, Paul's younger brother, and others were witnesses.

     I thought I was stronger and quicker than Paul. I don't think either of us threw punches during the fight. We wrestled in the grass and dirt of the field for what seemed like an hour. He had me pinned several times but I managed to free myself. I would get him in a headlock and apply so much pressure that he had difficulty breathing. Then I would ask him to "give up." At first he replied "never," and later when I asked the same question he didn't reply at all. He was determined not to give up. He never did.

     We were both exhausted when we separated. He went home with his younger brother. Later his mother called my mother—as Mrs. Holmes did when I fought with Cliff at an earlier time. My mother told me that I was as bad as my brother John and that I must learn to get along with my friends and stop fighting.

     The fighting did stop but it wasn't due to advice. Rather, the pecking order had been established among the boys of my age. Cliff, Paul and I were almost evenly matched, and we avoided another fight by our learned experiences. Later we learned to take turns with decision-making, leading and following in sports, hobbies and other activities.