Ozark Mountain Moonshine

If one lived in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas before the Little Red River was inundated during the early 60’s by the construction of a dam near Heber Springs, moonshine whiskey was readily available and not difficult to purchase. We were outsiders from Little Rock visiting my wife’s parents in the Ozark’s and I was not trusted to make a purchase of moonshine even if I wanted. My father-in-law, Dad we all called him, a rural route mail carrier, and my mother-in-law, lived in the Ozarks all their lives. He was trusted and knew where to find a bootlegger. Much of the time he had a jug of the perfectly clear corn liquor hidden in the storm cellar, the barn, or maybe the smoke house. He seldom stashed it in the same location.

Dad was not an alcoholic, nor am I. We did like to have a snort once in a while to celebrate most any occasion or just a bit to warm us during the winter while hunting or fishing. It was always too robust to swallow straight from the jug so we always diluted it. Moonshine made good eggnog. So we thought.

One weekend during one of our many visits, Dad told me he had a confidential chore for us to do early the next morning. We would tell my wife and her Mom that we were leaving early to look for some missing cattle. I had no idea what our task was to be. A Modern Still

Early the following morning Dad woke me after he had prepared country cured ham, eggs, home made buttermilk biscuits, red eye gravy, and strong hot coffee. After that hefty breakfast we climbed into his old Dodge truck and headed up the mountain on a dusty gravel road far back into the sticks. The morning was hushed, except for the roar of the truck as the sun was beginning to show from behind the hills and through the beautiful woods. He had not given me one hint of our destination but I knew it wouldn’t be long before the mystery would unfold.

As we traveled down a steep hillside road, we saw four white tail deer, three does and a large buck with a beautiful eight point rack of horns. A sight you rarely see these days. We crossed a small stream and continued about half way up another hill. He then stopped the truck on the side of the dusty road and cuts the engine.

Before he opened the truck door to get out he looked at me and said, “You stay in the truck and if you see anyone or a vehicle, honk the horn.” I said, “Okay, what are you going to do?” Without a word he opened the truck door, got out, closed it, and walked off through the thick woods. It was dead silent for a few minutes until several crows began calling out that an intruder was entering their territory. “Caw-Caw-Caw!”

Finally after about fifteen minutes I heard someone trudging through the brush beneath the tall white oak and pine trees. It was Dad with a wooden keg on his shoulder. I asked, “What have you got there?” He answered, “Five gallons of moonshine.” Now the secret is revealed. He covered the keg with an old tarp and some other items in the truck bed and we headed home.

That was some of the best bootleg whiskey we ever drank. There was a long period of time before we had to make another purchase of moonshine.

Dad had not touched a drop of alcohol for twenty years prior to his death at the age of 81. During those same years he always attended church services with my mother-in-law. I suppose we were just going through a stage in our life, though we never caused harm to anyone or deprived our families throughout those times.

The Ozark Hills around Greers Ferry Lake have changed dramatically over the past fifty years. Now, modern homes with several automobiles parked in front dot the hillsides, with paved roads to travel, not like the good old days.