Friends 'R' Family

Letta · Moderator

I grew up in rural Nova Scotia. And I do mean -rural-. Most of my childhood was spent at my grandparents home and that was approximately one mile off the main road back in the woods up on a hill. We had out buildings, a woodshed, chicken coop, storage shop/old taxidermy shop, garage, an old barn, and more piles of old junk than us kids could shake a stick at. We also had a pond and lots of swampy ground and once upon a time, an outhouse. The indoor bathroom was built after I was born so yes I do remember running across the yard with rolls of toilet paper into that dark stinky building with the flies and splinters. But that's another chapter.
We had frogs, not only frogs either, great huge bullfrogs and toads, lots and lots of toads. Kids are always told not to touch toads or they'll get warts. I never had a wart my entire childhood so that's hogwash. And believe me, I touched a LOT of toads. We used to play with them as pets. We also used to torture them, as bratty children did back then. We were never scolded, they were pests after all.
In the pond my grandfather would place minnows he caught from the brooks and streams in the surrounding area. We would help with this as we thought it great fun and it was awfully close to swimming fully dressed, especially when you accidentally fell in the water after being tripped or pushed. Minnows grow into fish, big, tasty fish. But from this pond, heaven help you if you fished in it. I remember clearly my grandmother chasing other children away from the pond while waving a broom stick over her head. A menacing sight to be sure. But we got to go fishing with my grandfather whenever he went and that meant the world to me. To this day I think of those fishing trips and miss them terribly. Two stick out the most for me.
The first one involved a rather young me, not sure on the age, straddling a small feeder stream and catching mud suckers with my bare hands as they swam down the feeder stream into the lake. These fish served no purpose in my mind and no one ever kept them or ate them so it didn't matter that I was catching them out of the water and tossing them on the shore. My grandfather thought this was great fun and was rather impressed with my technique. One small foot on either bank and watch carefully. He said I struck with the speed of a mad cobra and zipped the poor fish out of the water before they knew they weren't swimming anymore.
The second trip that stands out in my memory was a two part trip. We started at the site of the old family camp, long since burned down as it had become infested with snakes. Again though, that's another story. We stood in calf high water fishing under cloudy skies and filled a large washing tub with fish. None were big enough to bother keeping but I hated to part with them as I had caught so many. The old tub was mostly submerged in the water and the fish could just leap out when they needed to so it was OK to leave them where they were my grandfather told me. Most fish I ever caught in one day, 14. I was awfully proud of myself. We packed up to head home for supper early since the sky was threatening rain. Halfway down the old road the sun came out so my grandfather decided we'd try one more spot before calling it a day. I wasn't really in the mood to fish anymore so I went on a little exploration hike along the shore. I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye and reached down to catch yet another fish with my bare hands. A small pike. I didn't know it until I picked her up but she was very pregnant. When the eggs started to come out of her in my hands I panicked and screamed. My grandfather came on a run then started to laugh at me as he explained exactly what had just happened. I have never caught another fish with my bare hands since and have no intentions of it. You never know when you might be destroying an entire generation of fish by picking one up. Mind you, after that little fish roe experience, I gave up eating fish for a few years.
Snakes around the family home were not uncommon and certainly not wanted. I remember seeing one adult or another going across the yard with a dead snake on the end of a shovel and tossing it in the woods somewhere after having bashed it to death with the same shovel or the boots they were wearing. I almost picked a snake up once, a really big brown, in the sandpile and went running screaming to the house in a panic when I realized what it was. My grandmother chopped it to bits with the shovel and tossed it off into the woods and told me to be more careful. No need to tell me twice! When I got older though I found out that the sanctuary I always thought my grandparents house was, was a farce.
When the family cabin was to be burned down the bedding and salvaged goods were brought back by the truck. Bedding was put away in the upstairs storage and not thought of again until it was needed. House fires seemed common to us back then, seemed all the time someone or others house was burned down and they all came to live with my grandparents. One easter was really bad. My mother, 3 of her brothers and 1 of her sisters and all the children, 9 kids in total, were there to stay along with my grandparents. Bedding was pulled out of storage and beds were made up out of thin air. My grandmother was the most resourceful woman I ever saw. Pillows and blankets were tossed downstairs and we kids toted them to the adults. Nothing was thought of any of it. We'd seen things like this before and would see things like this again. We all slept soundly that night.
The next morning while watching television with my cousins I saw something fall from the bottom window to the bottom step. A medium length brown snake. We all ran to the adults, who of course didn't believe us. Where would a snake come from in the middle of winter after all? One Uncle decided to take a look and sure enough there it was. Ever see 4 women all try to stand on the same footstool at the same time? Doesn't work. The screaming and goings on were quite amazing as my Uncle bashed the poor snake to unconsciousness with my grandmothers flip flop and flung the body into the wood stove. It was later found that the snake had been hibernating in the pillow thrown down for my mother, had fallen out into the window ledge during the toss and had simply woken up the next morning. Everything taken from the cabin was immediately dragged outdoors and burned. We had a marshmallow bonfire in the middle of March that year.