Deputy Sheriff, Junius Covington
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I remember Dad using a safety pin to make a hook out of and catching trout with it. Sure do miss him.
I was telling about how he taught us all to shoot and hunt. There are three occasions of his shooting skills I remember distinctly.
1: On the farm in Loa, back along the line of cottonwood trees, some of you will
remember one side was the house, garden and orchard, the other side of the cottonwoods was a field used
to plant potatoes. On occasion a chicken hawk would come on by. Well this one old chicken hawk was
circling above just on the potato field side. Dad had his little 22 ruger pistol. Now most people have a hard
time shooting a flying bird like a duck, etc. with a shotgun. But Dad, one shot, with that 22 and the hawk
was dead. Now you might call that luck, but
2: I was with Dad when he was made deputy sheriff. (an interesting side thing) Dad and I drove to
Richfield where Dad was to meet the official who gave him a job as deputy sheriff. The guy met Dad in
Richfield on the street. Had dad raise his right hand and swore him into office. Only Dad the man and I
were there. He signed a paper and he was a Deputy sheriff. What is funny about that is Dad through his
entire life never had a drivers license, but here he had the power to give tickets to anyone else who drove
and didn't. His territory was Fish Lake where he watched over the private homes and lake properties. He
and I with him, were the only occupant during the winter months up there, except for an occasional sole
who would come by. Most of the time the roads were closed because of snow. But we lived in one of the
first cabins on the left as you came to the lake. Oh, I forgot, Terry, the black lab that liked to climb the
ladders with us was there also. But the next time I saw Dad's skills with that pistol was when we were at
fish lake. A couple of ducks were flying over the lake, about 150 or 200 yards out. Again, one shot with his
22 ruger and a duck fell to the lake. Terry, the lab, broke through the thin ice and swam out and got the
duck, brought it back to land and refused to give the duck up to us. Guess he figured he went into the cold
water, got it, he deserved it and it was his.
3: On a deer hunt, again outside of Fishlake, before the cattle crossing rails before you go down to the lake
there is a meadow setting way down off the road to the right. From the road to the aspens on the other side
of the meadow is probably, they figured 5 - 6 hundred yards. As we were driving along the road we spotted
a buck standing right on the edge of the meadow under the shade of the aspens. Dad stopped the truck, got
his 30 30 out and shot the deer dead, with one shot. I think they figured it was about a 500 yard shot. I
think Ted was with us, I don't remember who else. But I remember one thing Dad said. As we examined
the deer, we never had to cut its throat to bleed it cause his shot had went right through the juggler as nice
as you could have cut it with a knife. Dad took one look at it and said "Damn, my sight must be getting
bad, I was aiming for between the eyes." One thing the younger guys have to know is their Grandpa June,
never hunted or shot anything, but what he could use it for food or to protect his property (i.e. the chicken
hawk). He detested anyone for killing anything for the fun of it.
Gene Covington