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Down
along the slow running branch, were mulberry trees, which squirrels loved.
After a rain Dad would grab the twenty-two rifle and call the dogs, and we
would go squirrel hunting. One dog was really good at finding them. He
would just smell the air and run to a tree. When we would catch up with
him, there would be a squirrel there. It is not easy to get a squirrel to
stick his head out so you can see him. Dad would hide behind a tree, call
the dogs to him, and make squirrel sounds, till curiosity got the best of
the squirrel, and he poked his head around the truck or limb of the
tree. Most of the time he would get 2 to 3 squirrels. Shells cost money,
so only one shot, and that had to be right in the eye, so not to ruin the
meat. Cleaning them, we would see chiggers so thick they looked like
orange spots on their legs. Evidently they did not hurt the squirrels as
bad as they did us.
He taught me to clean them and beware of the scent
gland that would ruin the meat if you cut into it. Cleaned, soaked in salt
water, then dipped in flour and fried in bacon drippings, with gravy made
in the skillet, biscuits, green onions and tomatoes from the garden, a
large glass of sweet tea, (no ice) good supper.
We swung a hammock between two oak trees in the front
yard. When you got in the thing, it would fold around you like a cocoon.
Many evenings I would lie there and call quail. They would come and land
on the fence posts. They would come morning and evening to eat with the
chickens.
We tried to get the chickens to go into the chicken
house every night. One or two old hens would decide to roost in the
trees. The owls would land near the chicken, on a limb, slowly inch her
toward the end of the limb. When she finally fell off, the owl would
catch her in mid air, and off into the woods he would go, for a chicken
dinner.
Many a morning I have waited, impatiently, for the
cackle of a hen in the hen house, then go get the egg for breakfast. Now
that's fresh! One chicken became my pet. He had stepped in the burning
brush pile, lost one of his toes. I named him 2 toes. It was my job to
keep fresh water out for the poultry. Dad would cut an old tire in half,
lay both halves out in the yard. I would carry water from the creek in
pails and fill them.
Lou Anne Allen, Attended Moss Schools from the 3rd. - 6th. Grades. |