Michael,
Turkey shed, chickens, deer, but never had the kind of community stuff you
often talk about. Makes you the lucky man you are. You'll have to tell us
about your first blood some day.
Best,
Leland
From: The listserv where the buildings do the talking
[mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of [log in to unmask]
Sent: Sunday, January 18, 2009 2:44 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: [BP] killing time
7:30 am
December 16 Mississippi Hill country
A cold wet drizzle blows in from the North along with a dark frontal of
arctic air mass .
There is no where to hide; the woods are bleak and frigid within its icy
grasp.
The rain pisses lightly in sheets turns to ice then back again to rain
unable to take pity on any living thing
Today there will be no sun; the sky is the color of gun metal and a dark
pall greets the land in frozen heaves of mud whose slime collects at the
bottom of the boot in a mash of dirty dead leafs and stays there
On a paltry hillside amid a pile of dead bracken and sawed timber a circle
of shabby figures gathers under a tall hardwood.
Dressed in the rag tag of winter cammo; they appear idle and faceless with
their collars to the wind; momentarily the circle widens and a shot rings
out; its explosion muffled by the falling sleet and bitter wind,
The circle closes back in around a man in heavy camo overalls sporting a
curved straw cowboy hat kneeling at the base of the tree working a knife and
a rope around the legs of something big.
It is a day of death; you can read it on the land and in the men's faces.
Dull and expressionless they await the bloody task before them as just part
of what it takes to live out on the land and be a family
Straw hat finishes his work and an old wood block tackle squeals to life as
a big sow hog of 350lbs is pulled to the air by his hind quarters.
Satisfied he is hanging properly the men tie him off around the bulk of a
frozen tree trunk then a pair of butchers get to work.
Its grim work; the hogs color is like that of a humans; its smooth white
skin and body cavities mimic those of a hairless very heavy naked man,
The hogs face appears asleep as his head is lopped off and placed
unfittingly on a the floor of the tailgate on the pickup
Next the butchers go to work on gutting him; first the; spleen and lungs
fall in pails.
then the Kidneys and heart in another.
Men and boys;cusins and uncles some barely 8 yrs old; take part in the
communal butchering.
Its a time you never forget ; for a boy its a good feeling ;a passage to
manhood in a family that prides itself in providing for itself and everyone
doing his part
Since blood is their bond; the blood from the slaughter is shared communally
between them on their hands
Men use long curve bladed boning knives;diceing up fat back and hog jowl;
the kids use a smaller knife making cracklings and throwing them into a
huge cast iron pot to bubble and boil in before they float to the top. Their
faces smeared with blood
. The sleet is stinging An ax is called for and the sow is split down the
middle; his halves go to the tree covered slab of a huge oak table where
it is dressed out
The hams and the tender and sweet loin are all saved; as nothing is wasted;
the fat makes cooking lard; the flank the bacon;
Nearby is the salt box where it will cure in a sugar of brown salt before
going to the hickory filled smoke house
In Mississippi this is the killing time for deer and hogs
At one time every family participated in it; now in these hard times it is
coming back
. Here on this back country farm whose men have little or no work
a family of four raises one hog and butchers it;
the same family takes 2-3 deer a season; grows a garden; raises some
chickens; has some catfish and bass taken from their own pond and they are
pretty set in food for the remainder of the year ;;;; and as for generations
of Mississippians that was the way it was
all through hard times
Men and boys of the same extended family joke and poke fun at each other
across the huge slab table; they work on; their sharp knives performing
various tasks while ignoring the sleet.
The boys make cracklins;while the men carefully work the back bone, shoulder
and vertebrae for the choise cuts.
Sleet peppers their hands till they are sting blue; they talk stories of
ancestors and how pap-paw and great pa-paw did it
How great Pap-paw "Fit da wa " and came home to raise familles
"A-ways out hair in da kuntry ."
One 30 something is a specialist and has has orders to leave for Iraq in a
month
another cousin (A sniper) leaves for Afghanistan in 3 months.
The rain holds up; but the wind is still biting cold
The kids are staying real close to these men soaking up as much as they can
before they ship out because "who knows" as one old gent said to me
; because "who really knows",,,py
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