Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial Graveyard

The story begins in 1937 with a man named Key Underwood and his coon dog Troop, said to have been an outstanding hunter and a faithful companion. When Troop died, Underwood buried him at a wooded spot the local hunters used as a gathering place, wrapped in a cotton sack, and marked the grave with a simple stone bearing the dog's name and dates.

Underwood never intended to start anything grand. But other hunters, who understood exactly what a great coon dog meant to a man, began asking to bury their own dogs beside Troop. One grave became many, and over the decades the clearing filled with markers, until it became recognized as a genuine cemetery, unique in all the world for honoring only these hunting dogs.

What makes a walk through the graveyard so affecting is the character of the markers. Some are simple field stones with a name scratched on by hand, others are professionally cut headstones, and still others are homemade creations of concrete, wood, or metal. Many carry epitaphs full of plain affection and country humor, praising a dog's nose, its courage, or its loyalty, and telling in a few words the story of a partnership.

By long-standing tradition, only true coon dogs may be buried here. A dog has to be recognized as the real thing, a working coon hound, to earn a place, which is part of what keeps the cemetery so distinctive. The result is a folk-art landscape of grief and gratitude, entirely devoted to a single kind of animal.

To understand the graveyard, it helps to understand coon hunting, a nighttime pursuit deeply woven into the culture of the rural South. Hunters follow their dogs through the dark woods as the hounds trail and tree raccoons, prizing dogs with keen noses, stamina, and voice. A good coon dog was both a working partner and, often, a genuinely loved member of the family.

This corner of northwest Alabama, in the wooded Freedom Hills near Cherokee, was and is coon-hunting country, and the cemetery grew directly out of that world. It sits in the same broader region as the Muscle Shoals music towns and the Tennessee River, a landscape shaped by hunting, farming, and the tight-knit small communities of the Alabama hills.

The graveyard is a quiet outdoor site open to respectful visitors, set in a peaceful woodland clearing that rewards a slow, contemplative walk among the markers. There is a rustic pavilion and grounds for the annual Labor Day gathering that celebrates the cemetery, but on most days it is simply a still, green place far from any crowd.

Getting there is part of the experience, since the cemetery lies down back roads well off the main highways in the far corner of the state. It is wise to bring directions and a full tank of gas, since services are sparse nearby. Treat the graves gently, and you will find one of the most genuinely singular small places in the American South.

The closest Boutel™ stays, so you can turn this stop into an overnight. Each is an independently owned, editorially selected place to stay.