One Spring evening in the early part of the nineteen hundreds, James Jefferson Dixon was driving his horse and buggy home from the little town of Mershon, Georgia.
Jeff, who was the second child of William Franklin, and Fannie Bennett Dickson was born February 15, 1877.
As he approached the home of his brother, Andrew Jackson Dixon, three years his junior, Jeff saw Andrew at his barn, dispensing forage to his farm animals. He pulled to the edge of the three path road, and halted his buggy beside the feed lot where his brother was working.
Andrew came over to the fence to greet his brother, and the two engaged in the kind of talk that close families often take great pleasure in. How's the wife? How's the children? Crops? And so forth.
As the conversation drifted on, and darkness approached, the evening came alive with the sounds of birds, squirrels, farm animals, and such creatures as one might hear in the early years of rural Pierce County, Georgia.
Just about that time, off in the branch which ambled behind the home place of Andrew Dixon, the two heard a gentle hoo, hoo, hooting sound, suggestive of an owl. Jeff looked at his brother and exclaimed, "Ander, I'd get my gun, and go down there and kill that son-of-bitch before he starts get'n your chickens".
Andrew Dixon looked at his brother with a chuckle, and a twinkle of amusement in his eye and said, "Can't do that Jeff! That's Jack down there hooting like an owl!" Jack was one of Andrew's young sons who had become proficient enough at owl calling, that he fooled his wise old uncle.