Well, Raccoons are not really for petting, but I just thought I would say that! Those suckers have some very sharp teeth and can pretty much take care of themselves. I am remembering back to 1962 when Earl and I were living in Glasco, Kansas in a farm house on the edge of town. Debbie was a very tiny baby and Patty was conceived but not hatched yet.
We were itinerant tree trimmers which meant we moved into an area and trimmed trees until the work ran out and then we moved to the next town. That was easier than actually building a business and establishing a home. Most tree trimmers at that time were known as "fly by night", but not us. The fly by night guys would come into a town for a few days and do a couple high dollar jobs and then move on to the next likely looking place. We actually had an address and lived in the community. Well, for 30 days or whenever the rent came due anyway. But back to the story.
Glasco is straight up US 81 out of Hutchinson, close to Concordia and about 60 miles from Nebraska. I looked that up on the Atlas, so I know that is right. I do not know how long we lived there, but some of my memories are pretty vivid. One of our workers killed a rattlesnake on the back porch right by the door. It was night and had I opened the door he would have been inside. Never knew snakes traveled at night, but very glad it was Pete that found him and not me!
The compound consisted of Earl, Debbie and me. Earl's brother Larry, his wife and daughter. Two more brother's, Delvin and Virgil. And lastly Pete somebody and his wife whose name I forget and a couple of thier kids. I have no idea where we all slept, but as I recall there were a couple mobile homes or campers involved. And dogs! Actually they were " 'Coon dogs". The guys had struck up a friendship with a couple in another town who raised and hunted with them. Ah! The thrill of the hunt!
For those of you who have never been exposed to that element of life, you are in for a surprise! Any extra money we came across was spent to buy the best dogs that Bill and Dorothy had to offer. There were a couple Black and Tans, a couple Blue ticks, a Redbone and a Blood hound. It was Virgil's job to care for the dogs and it was a full time job. Ah, but night was hunting time.
Once they brought home enough honey to sink a battle ship. Every deal with raw honey? Now there is a blog unto itself. It had to be heated very slowly and then strained into containers of which we had none and then given away because one human can only hold so much honey! Fortuneately there were grapes on the river about that time so of course making wine was also on the agenda. That was set in the cellar which was located in the yard in the vicinity of the back door. We were not allowed to go down there, but being the free spirit's we were, I gathered up the sisters in law and we ventured into the forbidden territory. We tasted the fruits of the boys labor and pronounced them "horrible."
That night we could not find my little dog. We searched every where and had given up the doggie as lost when Earl decided to check on the wine process. Lo and behold! The little doggie was in the cellar. I am not sure I ever convinced that man that my dog had actually managed to get himself into the cellar, but you must remember my first husband drank a lot and as such had a kind of flawed reasoning. (That was back in the days when I was not above lying to save my ass!)
Back to the eating of the Racoon. As with all "hunter-gatherers" since the beginning of time, a racoon was finally captured and brought back to the "cave". As head woman it was my job to prepare the feast. Oh, my God! The sight of the Racoon with no fur and no head, feet and a gaping abdomen was more than I could bear! I put it in a pan on it's back with it's feet pointing upward, poured is some water, added salt and pepper and shoved it in the oven. Earl checked it several times and finally pronounced it "ready." There was no way I could have eaten a bite of that if my life depended on it and at that time it did. I can still close my eyes and picture that. I know in parts of the world and this country Racoon is eaten, but not the way I fixed it, I am sure. I equate all wild animals the same as my kitty cat.
I do, however have good memories of Glasco. It was a little town and I bought 2 chickens at the feed store and butchered them. They cost a whole dollar for 2 of them. Old hens, so they were turned into noodles.
The guys went down on the river and cut down a big Walnut tree and sold it to a buyer for $98 which was a whole lot of money at that time. We were going to do that for a living, but that was stealing and we were afraid we would get caught. Fear stopped a lot of our ideas.
Pete caught a fish that was very long, had a snout, and he had never seen one before like it so he beat it to death. Later we learned it was a Gar. Live and learn.
In my little mind, I was happy in Glasco. In my little mind I have been happy most of my life. Sadly the happiness did not always coincide with the time I was living through it, but that is alright. My mother always had sayings for me.
"Hind sight is 20/20 looking back."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
And my favorite "Time is the greatest healer."
My life is good. God Bless!
We were itinerant tree trimmers which meant we moved into an area and trimmed trees until the work ran out and then we moved to the next town. That was easier than actually building a business and establishing a home. Most tree trimmers at that time were known as "fly by night", but not us. The fly by night guys would come into a town for a few days and do a couple high dollar jobs and then move on to the next likely looking place. We actually had an address and lived in the community. Well, for 30 days or whenever the rent came due anyway. But back to the story.
Glasco is straight up US 81 out of Hutchinson, close to Concordia and about 60 miles from Nebraska. I looked that up on the Atlas, so I know that is right. I do not know how long we lived there, but some of my memories are pretty vivid. One of our workers killed a rattlesnake on the back porch right by the door. It was night and had I opened the door he would have been inside. Never knew snakes traveled at night, but very glad it was Pete that found him and not me!
The compound consisted of Earl, Debbie and me. Earl's brother Larry, his wife and daughter. Two more brother's, Delvin and Virgil. And lastly Pete somebody and his wife whose name I forget and a couple of thier kids. I have no idea where we all slept, but as I recall there were a couple mobile homes or campers involved. And dogs! Actually they were " 'Coon dogs". The guys had struck up a friendship with a couple in another town who raised and hunted with them. Ah! The thrill of the hunt!
For those of you who have never been exposed to that element of life, you are in for a surprise! Any extra money we came across was spent to buy the best dogs that Bill and Dorothy had to offer. There were a couple Black and Tans, a couple Blue ticks, a Redbone and a Blood hound. It was Virgil's job to care for the dogs and it was a full time job. Ah, but night was hunting time.
Once they brought home enough honey to sink a battle ship. Every deal with raw honey? Now there is a blog unto itself. It had to be heated very slowly and then strained into containers of which we had none and then given away because one human can only hold so much honey! Fortuneately there were grapes on the river about that time so of course making wine was also on the agenda. That was set in the cellar which was located in the yard in the vicinity of the back door. We were not allowed to go down there, but being the free spirit's we were, I gathered up the sisters in law and we ventured into the forbidden territory. We tasted the fruits of the boys labor and pronounced them "horrible."
That night we could not find my little dog. We searched every where and had given up the doggie as lost when Earl decided to check on the wine process. Lo and behold! The little doggie was in the cellar. I am not sure I ever convinced that man that my dog had actually managed to get himself into the cellar, but you must remember my first husband drank a lot and as such had a kind of flawed reasoning. (That was back in the days when I was not above lying to save my ass!)
Back to the eating of the Racoon. As with all "hunter-gatherers" since the beginning of time, a racoon was finally captured and brought back to the "cave". As head woman it was my job to prepare the feast. Oh, my God! The sight of the Racoon with no fur and no head, feet and a gaping abdomen was more than I could bear! I put it in a pan on it's back with it's feet pointing upward, poured is some water, added salt and pepper and shoved it in the oven. Earl checked it several times and finally pronounced it "ready." There was no way I could have eaten a bite of that if my life depended on it and at that time it did. I can still close my eyes and picture that. I know in parts of the world and this country Racoon is eaten, but not the way I fixed it, I am sure. I equate all wild animals the same as my kitty cat.
I do, however have good memories of Glasco. It was a little town and I bought 2 chickens at the feed store and butchered them. They cost a whole dollar for 2 of them. Old hens, so they were turned into noodles.
The guys went down on the river and cut down a big Walnut tree and sold it to a buyer for $98 which was a whole lot of money at that time. We were going to do that for a living, but that was stealing and we were afraid we would get caught. Fear stopped a lot of our ideas.
Pete caught a fish that was very long, had a snout, and he had never seen one before like it so he beat it to death. Later we learned it was a Gar. Live and learn.
In my little mind, I was happy in Glasco. In my little mind I have been happy most of my life. Sadly the happiness did not always coincide with the time I was living through it, but that is alright. My mother always had sayings for me.
"Hind sight is 20/20 looking back."
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
And my favorite "Time is the greatest healer."
My life is good. God Bless!
