DUCKING AT CATAHOULA LAKE.
Prof. Handwerker came down to Memphis, and we went for a duck shoot. We
went by rail to Alexandria and chartered a wagon with two sketchy ponies
and an aged veteran as driver, who took us about 20 miles to Catahoula
Lake. The toll man at the bridge valued our outfit at 40 cents, and
collected the entire price each way. The road lay through a lumber
country, where the yellow pine was being rapidly cut out. Arriving
within a mile of the lake, we concluded to stop with Mr. S., rather than
rest our old limbs in the doubtful protection of the tent we had
brought.
S. lived on a tract he had homesteaded, in a "plank-up" house of three
rooms. At the end of the living room was a large chimney of mud and
sticks, with andirons, in which a large fire burned constantly. There
were holes in the chimney of a size convenient for the cat to crawl
through, which the men had not had time to mend. Cracks an inch wide
between the plank let in a sufficiency of air, when the one
window--unencumbered with sash and glass--a simple wooden shutter, swung
shut. The family consisted of the man, his wife, two sons aged 16 and
12; horses, cows, oxen, chickens and numerous pigs. The latter were
dying off, and we saw numerous carcasses in the woods, the consequence
of a lot of diseased animals being brought in by a neighbor. S. had had
a sawmill, and with the aid of his sons and wife--the latter the
engineer--had turned out about 7,000 feet of lumber a day. For this he
had received his stock; but the wife did not feel that they were doing
well enough and persuaded him to sell the mill and raise cotton.
They cleared a few acres which they farmed till the yield fell off, when
they let it lie fallow and farmed another bit. They had intended to saw
up a lot of wood for a new house, but somehow it had been neglected, or
when a lot had been got out some one made a dicker for it. The stock of
food for the animals had run short, and chop sold at the stores for
$1.00 a bag for cash, $1.60 on credit; so the animals ran in the woods
and ate Spanish moss. This, we were assured, was a good, nutritious
food, when the animals got used to it. All were very thin. One horse
looked like a walking skeleton, and in fact died during our stay--but
then it was so reduced by the time it died that the loss was trifling.
The horses had long since stripped the berries from the china berry
trees. We were told that eight crops of alfalfa had been cut from a
field in this region last summer; so that it is simply a question of
cultivating a few more acres to supply proper food to the stock. The
five cows gave about a quart of milk a day. They were milked once a
day--if they came up to the house in time; if not, it went over till
next day.
Mr. S. was a fine, good-natured man, who did not drink, or permit liquor
or cards in his house. He had some trouble with his shoulder, which
seriously interfered with his work, though he hauled logs to the
sawmill, the small boy driving. He was very proud of his wife; vaunting
her as the best worker in the parish, excepting their nearest neighbor;
and those two women, he averred, could equal any men in farming cotton,
chopping or sawing wood, and cultivating the garden. It was
edifying--touching--to see Mrs. S. bridle with pleasure under this
well-deserved approval.
The two boys attended to the fires, on alternate days; and they sure did
show great mathematical talent, for they could calculate to a certainty
the exact quantity of wood that sufficed for the day and next morning,
so as to leave over not a scrap for the lessening of the other boy's
labors. In the evening a huge backlog was placed in the big chimney,
with two smaller pieces underneath, and some cypress under that to keep
up a blaze. Then all hands gathered around, S., the Professor and the
aged driver, with their pipes, the two boys chewing, and Mrs. S., with a
little stick projecting from her mouth, which puzzled us, till the idea
of its significance flashed across our mind--snuff! And then they set in
persistently and systematically to put the fire out, by well-directed
expectoration. And we are bound to say that in accuracy of aim Mrs. S.
was not behind the menfolk.
Bedtime came. A big feather-bed was dragged out and placed on the floor
in front of the fire, some comforters thrown over it, with pillows, and
we were politely offered our choice of the bed on the floor or that on
the wooden bedstead. It was left to us, and we took one apprehensive
look at the ancient stead--quite undeserved was the suspicion--and chose
the floor, remarking that we could not turn a lady out of her bed. This
was met with remonstrances on the part of these warm-hearted people, but
it was left that way. The old man and the two boys took the other bed,
and the seven of us lay down to sleep in the one room. First the lady
retired to the kitchen while we disrobed; then we offered to do the same
to give her a chance, but this was unnecessary, as she didn't disrobe.
The old man got in bed and lit his pipe; she took a fresh portion of
snuff, and we presume the boys a new quid. During the night we
occasionally heard S. scratching matches to light up. The bed of wild
duck feathers favorably modified the hardness of the floor, and we slept
well.
Before daybreak we heard S. lighting up, and then, with difficulty, he
induced the boy on duty to arouse and attend to the fire. Then Mrs. S.
arose and when we showed signs of consciousness we had a cup of
coffee--black, good quality, well sweetened, but without milk.
Breakfast of smoked pork, more coffee, and hot bread--corn or wheat. We
may add that this was also our dinner and our supper, varied by
cracklin' bread, hot biscuits, and an occasional pie of berries or
peaches. Once sweet potatoes and once dried peas. If a visitor dropped
in, coffee was served around. And we had ducks.
In the morning we hooked up the team and went down to the lake. The
formation is similar to that at Bear River, Utah; broad flats covered
with a few inches of water, the soil a stiff clay that will generally
hold a man up, but not always. But the people here have no boats, build
no blinds, and their only idea of duck shooting is to crawl on their
bellies through the mud till they can get a pot shot at a flock of ducks
in the water. They use heavy loads and No. 2 shot. As we did not shoot
ducks that way, our success was not very great. Still we got as many as
we could eat--and that's enough.
The older boy suggested that we cross the lake to a group of cypresses,
where the shooting was good. We waded in about a hundred yards, when the
wading began to get pretty heavy, our feet sinking in over the ankles.
The Professor concluded to turn back, and took up his stand by a lone
cypress near the margin of the water. We felt that it was the part of
wisdom to do so also; but the boy began to chuckle and a smile of
derision appeared on his face. Now we don't like to be "backed down" by
a "kid," and he assured us the boggy place did not extend far and then
the bottom became firmer; so we kept on across the lake. It was said to
be a mile, but it proved to be at least ten. We had not gone far when we
began to realize several things: That the boy lied; that we weighed
nearly 200 lbs.; that the borrowed waders we had on were much too large;
that though in our life of 54 years we had ascertained that we were a
great many different kinds of a darned fool, this was one more kind. The
waders were tied to our waist, but soon pulled off so that we walked on
the legs; sank in over ankles at each step, but had to immediately
withdraw the foot to keep from going still deeper. We got tired--very
tired--but dared not stop. Out of breath, the throat burned as if we had
taken a dose of red pepper, but we could not stop for breath. Fell down
and struggled up with boots full of water; and after an eternity of
effort struggled out on the other side, to stand in the cold, teeth
chattering, trying to get shelter against the cold wind in the hollow of
the cypress, and still keep a lookout for ducks. The fingers were too
cold to pull the trigger, almost, but a sprig came in and we nailed him.
And no more came our way.
Just before we had frozen stiff the boy came back and we set out to walk
around the lake. It was only half as far as straight across. Some strays
passed over, and in response to our call a mallard duck settled down
upon the ground. The boy looked inquiringly at us, but we told him we
did not take such shots, and he crawled up and executed the bird. A jack
snipe rose, and fell promptly. Wading across a bayou we caught a glimpse
of green shining on the shore, and it proved to be a teal, directly in
front. He rose when we were within 40 feet, and fell with his head shot
off; which evidently elevated us in the estimation of the boy. Meanwhile
the Professor had accumulated a respectable collection of birds; and we
had game enough for the table.
Arriving at the house, a discussion arose as to the way to cook them. We
stoutly maintained that a bird that had a distinctive flavor like a
teal should be lightly broiled. But the lady intimated that she had
something else in contemplation that would open our eyes and enlarge our
views. It did both. Will it be believed that those delicate little teal,
the snipe, sundry squirrels and quail subsequently brought in, were
ground up with smoked pork and onions into an undistinguishable mass of
sausage, and fried? Shades of Vatel!
One look at the proud face of the designer of the dish, and the
Professor loudly vaunted the idea, and took another helping. No one
could have had the heart to dissent--and our virtue was rewarded, for
nothing could induce our good hostess to cook the birds any other way.
The Professor's praise settled that. Though his name indicates an origin
Teutonic rather than Milesian, and his huge frame would have easily
sustained the armor of Goetz von Berlichingen, he must have kissed the
Blarney stone, and no living woman could resist the charm of his
approval.
We lived on the food described for a week, and drank enough coffee to
paralyze the Postum Cereal man--the Professor negotiated 14 cups a
day--and had not a trace of our acid dyspepsia. Is there any remedy for
this complaint, except hard work?
One evening a neighbor came over with his wife, the one who had so high
a reputation as a worker. She was a thin little woman, with hollow
cheeks and great brown eyes, sad, as their only child had been recently
killed by accident, while out hunting. The inevitable snuff stick
protruded from her lips. The husband was a bright, merry fellow, who at
once struck up a trade with our old driver. They traded wagons, then
fell to about their horses, and as the spirit of trade aroused the
sporting blood the younger man asked if the other had a "trading hat,"
or jackknife, and finally proposed they should go out on the gallery and
trade clothes to the skin. "Would trade everything he owned but the old
woman," he announced.
The driver was a character in his way. He owned to 75 years, rivaled the
Professor's 6 feet 4 inches when erect, but was wholly longitudinal in
dimensions. On the road he informed us at intervals of five minutes that
the road was "pretty heavy today." He stood in awe of the Professor's
deep bass, and seeing this that irreverent youth played it on the old
man in a way to be reprobated. Mrs. S. gave us a pie one day for lunch,
and smilingly announced that it was the exclusive property of the
Professor. Accordingly the latter authoritatively forbade all others
meddling with his pie. About noon S. and the Doctor came across the lake
to the wagon, and began foraging for lunch. S. got out the pie and each
of us took a liberal slice, in spite of the old driver's protest that it
was the Professor's pie, and he must be held guiltless. Pretty soon the
Professor came over, and on seeing the hole in the pie bellowed in an
awful voice: "Who took my pie?" The old man threw up his arm as if to
protect his head, and anxiously cackled that he had no hand in it, that
it was the Doctor and S., and that he had told them they should not do
it. Just then the Doctor sauntered in, and the Professor tackled him
about who ate the pie. Dr. at once assured him it was the old driver;
that he had seen the stains of the berries on his lips; which mendacious
statement was received by the old man with voluble indignation. S. came
up, and on being appealed to at once "caught on," and put the blame on
the driver. He was simply speechless with this most unjust charge. All
the rest of the day the Professor scolded over the pie, and we thought
of new arguments showing that no one but the driver could have purloined
it. But about bedtime, after there had been stillness for a time, a
still small voice came from the old man saying with a tone of dawning
comprehension: "I believe you fellows have been having fun with me about
that pie." This was too much, and the walls fairly cracked with the
howls of delight.
We did not treat the old man very badly, though, as on leaving he
assured us if we ever came again into that country he would be only too
willing to join us in a similar trip.