A Rabies Scare Set Finley’s Dogs on Notice—and Its Poet to Rhyming
A cow and a pig died after violent fits near Finley in November 1916, prompting a state veterinarian, chained dogs, and a local poet’s curfew verse.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
Richland can’t monopolize the hydrophobia scare either, for we’ve got ’em too. Last Friday one of Bill Tewell’s gentle cows suddenly went on a rampage. She tried to horn and bite everything within reach, broke down gates and tore through fences, took after Bill and his brother, and was only diverted by the dog, until finally the other cows got her down and the men got a couple of ropes on her. They got her into a strong corral, where she promptly broke off both horns trying to break out. Neither of the local veterinaries had had experience with hydrophobia and they did not want to pass on the case, so a state veterinary was sent for, but the cow died Saturday night and we don’t know yet whether to be alarmed or not. On the same day Joe Gerards had a pig which cut up capers much like Bill’s cow and died Saturday morning, so between the two cases the neighborhood is considerably alarmed. Whether it is hydrophobia or not, the safe way is to keep all the dogs in the neighborhood chained up for the present. A local poet versified the scare: 'The hydrophobia scare’s about / And mothers warn their kids at night, / “A coyote’ll git ye if you go out.” / Curfew need not ring tonight.'
“Whether it is hydrophobia or not, the safe way is to keep all the dogs in the neighborhood chained up for the present.”
In 1916 a mysterious animal illness could empty a valley of children and put every dog on a chain before a diagnosis arrived. The episode rhymes with modern public-health scares, when rumor outruns expertise and rural communities wait on distant officials for answers. It also shows how humor—a local poet’s curfew verse—helped a neighborhood manage fear.
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