Before words become language, they exist for us as sound and rhythm and the sounds and rhythms of childhood words endure to the grave. Speak to me the simple phrase “teddy bear” and I see a stuffed animal, its paws limp, the brown plush fur worn away on its left arm, one faceted jet button-eye missing. But repeat the words, give them a lilt and a bit of a meter and you may hear what I hear: the sudden slap of summer jump ropes, the girlish giggles, the hissing intake of breath as a jumper struggles to finish with the rhyme.
Teddy bear, Teddy bear,
Touch the ground.
Teddy bear, Teddy bear,
Turn around.
Teddy bear, Teddy bear,
Show your shoe.
Teddy bear, Teddy bear,
That will do…
Even after language develops as a tool of communication the sounds endure, resonant and pure, flowing just beneath the surface of consciousness. While reading recently about alligator scutes and alligator gar scales, two natural oddities of Louisiana life, I discovered it wasn’t the meaning of the words but their sound which brought to mind a verse once as familiar as my jump-rope rhymes.
What are little boys made of?
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails,
that’s what little boys are made of.
Snips and snails, scutes and scales - it was impossible not to smile. Playing with the words, I listened as scutes and scales transformed themselves into suits and sales and a new version of an old bit of doggerel was born.
What are city folk made of?
Suits and sales and Blackberry tales -
that’s what city folk are made of.
What are Cajun folk made of?
Scutes and scales and crawdaddy tails -
that’s what Cajun folk are made of.
In real life, of course, Cajun folk have a lot of friends. South Louisiana’s intricate web of salt marsh, bayou and swamp is populated by an equally rich and complex mixture of Houma and Chitimacha tribespeople, Cajuns, Creoles and an assortment of Germans, Czechs, Spanish, Irish, and Blacks who showed up, liked what they saw and stayed. The truth is that everyone who loves or lives in Louisiana has a fair portion of scutes, scales and crawdaddy tails in their makeup. The fun lies in discovering what that means.
Certainly crawfish are the most widely-experienced of the trio, the totem of La Louisiane’s tribe. Yankees may call them crayfish or crawdaddies and Texans may rhapsodize over their mudbugs, but in Louisiana they’re crawfish. Eaten in gumbos, etouffees, pistolettes and pies, crawfish crawl onto every gimcrack imaginable: tee shirts, mugs, key chains, beads, beer-bottle openers, sun visors, bikinis, playing cards and plastic bibs. “Ubiquitous” barely begins to describe it.
For the good people of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, places like Tualatin, Oregon can brag all they want about having the oldest crawfish festival in the country, or the artsiest, or the cheesiest. In the self-proclaimed Crawfish Capitol of the World, when they throw their annual festival celebrating the iconic little critter, les bon temps rouler with a vegeance. There’s Cajun and Zydeco music, dancing, crawfish races, crawfish royalty and enough crawfish piled onto the tables to to satisfy even the most voracious appetite.
Occasionally you’ll see someone who’s meeting a heap of boiled crawfish for the first time. You’ll catch that delicate, barely perceptible shudder and you know what they’re thinking. Yes, crawfish live in the mud. Yes, they look as much like a bug as a lobster and yes, to fully enjoy that pile of savory goodness you do need to pull off the heads. But if you can get past all that, you’ll pass a good time, as they say in crawfish county, and get a fine taste of culture along with your food.
While the crawfish are busy hunkering down into their mud, trying to avoid becoming dinner, other inhabitants of the bayous and swamps are watching for someone else who might have dinner on his mind: the American alligator.
Everyone knows the strength of alligators – the damage their tails can inflict, or their teeth - but hidden beneath the surface of their skin is a marvel of evolutionary engineering. Alligator scutes, or osteoderms, are embedded bony plates which serve as protective armor. They also help regulate the reptile’s body temperature. Each plate is perforated with blood vessels that collect the sun’s heat and distribute it through the body, functioning very much like a solar cell.
Seen from the outside, the elegance and effectiveness of the scutes’ design is obvious. Raising the skin of the cold-blooded creatures into rows of tiny “mountains”, they increase the amount of surface exposed to the sun and allow heat collection to take place with greater efficiency. As is so often true in the wetlands and with its creatures, it’s what’s under the surface that counts.
While shy and somewhat reticent, the fish known as the alligator gar does live much of its life only half-hidden from view. Because its buoyancy bladder is connected directly to its throat, it has the ability to breathe air and often will bask just below the surface of the water.
Despite the gar’s large size, its tendency to just “hang out” can make it difficult for an untrained eye to spot its presence. I spent years being startled by the creatures, looking around the docks and asking “What was that?” after a huge splash and roiled water suggested something big – an airplane part, perhaps – had fallen from the sky. Invariably someone would grin and say, “Tha’s a gar, sweetie”, but not until last year was I looking at the right patch of water at just the right time. When the garfish decided to surface and roll, giving me a look of primordial contempt in the process, it was as though prehistory had come to visit in the form of a fish, one that already was populating rivers when dinosaurs trod their banks during the Cretaceous Period.
Bayou Woman Wendy Billiot’s friend, Bayou Fabio, has the capture, cleaning, sale and distribution of gar honed as sharply as his knives. While I’ve not found a recipe for Garfish Etouffee, the meat is eaten and even favored by some. If you happen to have a gar in your cooler and do a bit of browsing, there are online recipes for garfish cakes, gar nuggets, deep-fried gar and (are you listening, BP?) gar balls.
Scaling the fish is no easy task. The interlocking, diamond-shaped scales provide armored protection much like the alligator’s scutes. Hard enough to be used by Native Americans as arrowheads, they’ve also been used for decorative purposes. Today, artists and craftspeople, especially jewelry-makers, are fashioning delightful bits of beauty from what has to be one of the world’s ugliest fish.
The crawfish, the alligator and the alligator gar - each continues to survive and even thrive in the midst of a changing and precarious world. Unique and interesting, perfectly adapted to their environments, they remain denizens of the world’s edges and intersections, reminders of a world where clocks have no meaning and where time is measured only by the rising of the tide and its fall, the ending of the seasons and their unending return.
Now and then, some smart and sophisticated city-dwellers arrive on the bayou and share an opinion or two – that crawfish are disgusting, alligators dangerous and gar unbearably ugly. What they think of the wetlands in general or their people in particular is hard to say. But while the city folk chatter and chirp, just below the surface of consciousness the sound of the swamp-song flows.
Shadowed beneath the surface of the moonlit marsh, the gar hangs suspended in its pool. The very embodiment of patience, the alligator watches and waits, parting the smooth cordgrass with his snout. And where the water meets the land and the land dissolves away, the life of a people goes on. Scooting around obstacles, scaling walls of prejudice, living out their lives with ingenuity and verve, they tell one another tales of blessings piled higher than the crawfish on their tables. Scoots and scales and crawdaddy tales – that’s what La Louisiane is made of.
I lived in Lafayette for 3 years and was my own float in the parade for Ali Landry in Breaux Bridge. A few years ago, I was on an airplane and this woman kept staring at me. When I got off the plane she said in a lovely Cajun accent, “we sure to miss you in Breaux Bridge.” My kitties are Cajun cats but I can’t for the life of me recall where they were born. Wasn’t Abbeville but may have been Kaplan.
I do hope that you know that the TV people are always wrong when they show New Orleans for a football game and then claim that they are Cajun. They have no clue.
I enjoy your writing. Wish I could do it as well.
Symonsez,
Your airplane story reminds me again how small the world can be. The last time I was in Louisiana, we stopped for lunch at Schmoopy’s on Grand Caillou Road in Dulac. Later that afternoon, waaaaay down on Four Point Road, just south of Sweetwater Pond, we stopped to talk to a fellow who was working in the shade with a circular saw. He kept staring at us and finally said, “Say. I saw you up at Schmoopy’s at lunchtime” What are the odds? Pretty good, actually.
I started dancing my way across south Louisiana at Vermillionville. I ended up at Whiskey River, and believe I might start there next time.
As for those teevee people – yup. I know.
I’m really glad you enjoyed this one, especially with your own roots in Lafayette. One of the hardest things to do with a piece like this is get it “right” – to show something true about the people. It’s a satisfying endeavor, for sure.
Linda
Well, it was worth the wait:)
When I was little we used to chant-
‘Frogs and snails,
And puppy-dogs’ tails’
Checking on the web for the correct words I realised that ‘snips and snails’ seems to be the most popular version. As a child I was glad I was ‘all things nice’. Much preferable to a frog or a doggies tail!
I wondered how you would bring in the alligator gar after our conversation. So cleverly put together. They are certainly a whopper of a fish!
As to it being the world’s ugliest fish – have you seen the monkfish! But, according to hubby, once the fish has been dealt with, the flavour and texture is divine – somewhat like your crawfish I should imagine.
Sandi,
I was so interested to discover “your” version of the rhyme. The other little mystery that may have been solved is the strange phrase “snips and snails…” I never could figure out what a “snip” was, but it may be that the original phrase was “snips OF snails”. It doesn’t improve the mental picture one bit.
We did live in a pink and blue world, didn’t we? I still remember my childhood bedroom. Sugar and spice, it was – and heavy on the sugar. Pink, frilly, poofed, and tulle-trimmed to a fare-thee-well. I’ve never favored pink since!
Monkfish do have that face only a mother monkfish could love – but there’s always the stonefish, still number one on my list of uglies in the fish-world. Apparently being perfectly camouflaged isn’t enough, though. Mr. Stonefish is venomous and deadly as well. We’re lucky it doesn’t live in the Gulf or the Thames!
Linda
Ah, wonderful..
I was a bit of a mixture of the ‘snips and snails’ and the ‘sugar and spice’. More ‘snips’ than ‘sugar’ for a number of years. A tomboy, is what I was.
I spent my fair share of time in the ditch beside our yard hunting for crawdads, catching minnows and, in the spring, scooping up toad eggs into a small aquarium and watching them hatch and grow.
I’ve always had a fascination with bones and scales and they way they look and function. It’s amazing how animals have evolved to fit their niches.
Bug,
Have you read Annie Dilard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek? It would be right up your alley. She writes beautifully about toad eggs, dragonflies and “seeing” in gereral. The excerpts I linked will give you a taste.
I do like seeing how much easier it is for kids these days – boys and girls – to mix the sugar and snails in their lives. I can still remember hearing those phrases – “Girls don’t do that”, “Boys shouldn’t this or that”. There’s been a lot of politically-correct foolishness associated with such things in recent years, but I still hate it when I read about the ways women are constrained in other cultures. We take so much for granted.
Linda
You do have a way with words and word pictures, my dear! It was a pleasure hosting you here and glad to be able to give you something so composition worthy . . . scutes! This is a lovely piece . . . BW
Bayou Woman,
Thanks for stopping by! I do hope things are going well there – I saw last night that fin fish bans have been entirely lifted. I hope the confidence is justified and the fall is back up to speed. I’d really hoped they would have the well capped before Labor Day, but what to do?
My next trip to the bayou’s always lurking at the back of my mind. The scutes were pretty good, but who knows what else is lurking out there?!
Linda
I don’t know about you but some of your neighbours might share genes with me:
‘Course I would not be surprised if we also share some Scandinavian ancestry.
First morning off in a while and yattering on with Mom sets me off – then I read your latest which brings up:
Liberia – we bought some crayfish on some bridge there (so fresh water) and had a wonderful supper (after a few weeks of chicken stew).
Louisiana – about 40 years ago I phoned an “Operator” (remember them?) down there and asked for the recipe for “File Gumbo”. She was very helpful but it turned out the roux is banned in Canada.
Amazon – has a monster like the Gar and it’s scales when dried can be used even on my thick fingers for nail enhancement. We brought a few home and I tried them on but it was not really me.
Ken,
Interesting, the wide distribution of so many of these creatures. A friend mentioned childhood fishing for crawdads in Ohio, and I was surprised to discover them in the Pacific northwest.
In Liberia, I suspect they were more common near the coast – never saw them in our upcountry markets. We had to make do with the chicken, dried fish, goat and such. Back in the villages there was a little more variety: fruit bat – yum! But I know there were plenty dishes in Monrovia that had them as part of the mix. What I wouldn’t give for some really good palm butter!
I just laughed at your reference to the telephone operator. I told someone who isn’t THAT young about the days of “Number, please…” and four-digit phone numbers. (My childhood phone number was 1906.) She looked at me like I was crazy.
Linda
The first time I ever went to an authentic crawfish boil was at the invitation of the DeJean family in Des Allemands which is about as Cajun as it gets. Water on one side of a narrow road that was lined with live oaks dripping Spanish moss. There were a couple of big zinc tubs full of ice and long-neck Dixies. A three-piece Cajun trio of accordion, fiddle and triangle provided the music. A long, long table covered with newspapers held steaming mounds of bright red crawfish. There were no chairs at the table. You stood and picked out the mud bugs and squeezed the tips and sucked the heads. Mmmmmmmmmm!
When the party came to its inevitable conclusion (I guess it wasn’t REALLY an authentic boil since there were no fist fights) the empty shells were simply wrapped up in the newspapers. I asked one of the DeJean brothers what to do with them…”Oh, just take dem across de road an trow dem in the wahda. Dos tings be BAYOU DEGRADABLE.”
oldsalt,
Laughing, for sure, at “bayou degradable”. Never have seen a fist-fight, though. Maybe the ratio of Dixies (or Abitas, or Stone Ruination, or whatever) to crawfish is the determining factor.
The most fascinating thing I’ve learned about crawfish is that they come in white and blue as well as red. The white ones turn red after cooking – I’m not sure about the blue. A town just south of me had a “Red, White and Blue” crawfish festival last spring. Whether they had all three colors on display or on the menu I’m not sure, but it could be the coming thing. I think the blue ones actually are sold mostly as pets. Maybe someone will put them into plastic pet-quariums.
Are there crawfish in Panama?
Linda
I was about to mention that this post bordered on the poetic (and on the good side of that border!) when I happened to notice that you had tagged it as “Poetry and Poem-Like Things”. It certainly is both.
Al Cyone,
I happened across that particular tag on another blog some weeks ago, and admired it then. I don’t do much straight-up poetry, but every now and then I get something that ooches beyond “three points and a conclusion”, as this one did. I remembered the tag when I finished, and was happy to make use of it.
Pleased to have you stop by.
Linda
LOL…
Bayou degradable.
Perfect!
When Dad was still living in Sumter, SC, after Mom passed and before he remarried, he took Hubby and myself out into the Santee Swamp one Saturday morning, whilst we were visiting one weekend. We didn’t plan to fish; it was just a sightseeing tour. Hubby had never been out there before.
As usual, Dad and I packed a small cooler with snacks and drinks. I don’t really remember what all we had in there but there were some boiled peanuts. Dad and I were happily sucking away on them and tossing the shells overboard. Hubby freaked. “You’re littering!”
Dad and I laughed and had to remind him that peanut shells are vegetation and wouldn’t harm anything.
They were bayou degradable!
Bug,
That reminds me of my very, very early days in the country. My, did I have a lot to learn.
One night I was sitting on a porch with a friend, who was eating an apple. When she got down to the core she gave it a good heave off the porch. I gave her a look and she laughed. “Just wait”, she said. “You’ll see.” Sure enough, about a half hour later there was a bit of a rustle, and here came one of the raccoons from the creek. She picked up that apple, took a couple of bites and then trotted off with it, down the hill. Recycling at its finest!
You’ve said so much about the Santee Swamp I finally went and looked it up. What a beautiful place – and what fun it would be to do a swamp tour of the south and southeast!
Linda
I don’t think they have crawfish here in Panama. I haven’t seen any, but they do have some monstrous prawns. Three will fill you up.
The Cajuns love to fight. They are only slightly less pugnacious than the Brits and Scots I encountered in France. There were also a lot of Irish there in Antibes and despite their reputation for fighting I never saw one of them throw a punch in the three years I was there. The Brits and Scots, on the other hand, fought daily.
You know, Linda, there’s a reason that some of the stages in Cajun Country bars have chicken wire in front of them. That’s NOT just a Blues Brothers joke. I’ve been in a few of those joints.
When I was working for Ronco Barge and Crewboat Rentals out of New Iberia, the Port Captain, David L. used to drive me to the job sites on crew change days. David was an immense young man and one of the best people I ever worked for in my life. I always thought of him as a gentle giant sort. But on one trip to work I asked him how his brother’s wedding had gone the week before.
“It was great, Richard,” he said. “I got in three fights. I love it when they start to bleed.” Those were his standards for having a good time in the heart of the bayous.
oldsalt,
Ah, the chicken wire. Haven’t been in those places, for true. I suppose the closest I came actually were some Mississippi juke joints. Now, Whiskey River over on the Henderson levee probably has some potential. It can be fun beyond words, but there weren’t any fights when I was there. Everyone was too busy dancing
There was a bit of fun conversation over at The Oil Drum a few days ago – references here and there to what that first day back on the rig could be like. No foolishness on the rig, but on shore during that time off? I imagine you met a few of those fellows!
Linda
Thank you for another wonderful reminder that there’s beauty and coherence everywhere, and not just in the things we happen to recognize. The culture you describe in this post is somewhat unfamiliar to me, but through your eyes and wonderful words, I’ve now had a taste of life in southern Louisiana. (And I didn’t have to pull the head off anything.)
bronxboy,
You’d love it. I know you would. And in a town like Breaux Bridge, there’s art and music, wonderful history and you can get your crawfish pie in a puff pastry crust!
Coherence is such an important word, and so right in this context. Things cohere on the bayou. They hang together. Families haven’t been as torn apart. Past and present talk to one another. There aren’t any strangers. If you come, and you’re interested, and you like to listen, you’ll hear stories from now until forever, and you’ll like every one of them.
Sometimes it’s very hard to live only a few hours away. I think, “You know, if I got in the car now…..”
Linda
Linda,
I can no longer remember exactly how I got started on it, but I just came back from a 27-page journey down the Atchafalaya at the New Yorker. It took a while, but the trip was worth the fare. It certainly increased my understanding of the nature of things in Louisiana.
Bogon,
My gosh. John McPhee is terrific, and I thank you for that link. It seems as though I’m spending as much time in Louisiana as Texas these days, even if only in spirit. Yesterday at The Oil Drum I found this link to another part of The Control of Nature, and have the book on my list called “you’d better buy this rather than check it out”. It seems that his Basin and Range belongs on that list, too.
If you’d like to approach the Atchafalaya from another direction, check out CC Lockwood’s photography. Stunning.
And then there’s always this direction.
Linda
Wonderful post and a great ”word tour” – something you always deliver. That picture of Bayou Fabio (and his name!) is superb. Made me grin.
Jeannine,
It was Bayou Woman who gave Bayou Fabio his name. She had her reasons. I knew someone would pick up on it, and thought it might be you.
National Geographic did a series on Monster Fish and the gar was included, of course. Fabio was part of the gar video. Your kids might even enjoy it. I always grin at the photos of alligators strolling through parking lots, lazing beside swimming pools, etc. The intersection of human civilization and the natural world can be pretty interesting.
Linda
I copied the John McPhee article to read this evening. He’s one of my favorite authors.
For three years I ran small crewboats throughout southwest Louisiana and deep into the Atchafalaya out of such little landings as Pigeon. I was there through high water and low watching fishermen hauling their crawfish traps baited with cans of cat food with holes punched in them and hoop nets for catfish. During flood season there would be so much silt in the water that it would tear up the raw water pump impellers so fast we used to check them twice a day so you wouldn’t overheat the engines and crack a block.
I loved it up in there. In a lot of places if you didn’t see an oil well or another boat with people fishing it was just like it was a million years ago.
oldsalt,
It’s a magical place, for sure. It’s also a place that can’t be known in a week, or a month. I suppose that’s true of the world generally, but certainly the Atchafalaya, Acadiana, bayou country as a whole and south Louisiana in general tend to reward those who are willing to show up and shut up, letting the country do the story-telling first.
I do so love your account of these places. It’s no wonder your blog’s titled “One More Good Adventure”. You’ve had plenty!
Linda
Linda,
I’ve never heard of the garfish. I can’t wait to tell Dad about it. He may be familiar with it, and Dad will eat anything that’s deep fried – or any kind of fried – except eat catfish. He won’t eat catfish.
It always impresses me how people will find ways to make beautiful things from what they find in their environment. That jewelry is lovely.
I know some people may object to eating something that thrives in the mud like your crawfish, but we enjoy our manninose (soft shell) clams or piss-clams up here. When we were kids, we used to go down to the beach at low tide and come back with a bucket of them. We like them steamed and dipped in the broth and then in melted butter. We love our butter.
Bella
Bella,
You don’t have the alligator gar, apparently, but there is the critter called the longnose gar, which is the same family. It has the same diamond-shaped scales, and the same teeth. I’ll bet your Dad knows it, since the nice, informative article says fishermen consider it a nuisance. (It tends to eat bait-and-table fish.)
I bought one of Kim’s necklaces, which I think is even prettier. Of course, it has green beads, which I favor. But it’s really a nice piece. There’s another Houma Indian woman who makes flower jewelry out of the scales, with the scales serving as petals. Just beautiful.
Do you know I’ve never been clamming? It always sounds like such fun, but the cochina I’ve found on our beaches are so tiny it hardly seems worth while. I want something big enough to dip into that butter!
Linda
Scutes. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure. That’s one of the things I love most about coming here — I almost always learn something new or see something familiar in an entirely new way.
Your crawfish discussion — Oh, that sounds REALLY good right now! And while I know it’s not a crawfish, I must say Bayou Fabio looked pretty impressive with his catch!
Finally, I had always heard snakes and snails (not snips). What’s a snip? I kind of like that better!
jeanie,
I didn’t know about scutes until I went to Louisiana last time. When Bayou Woman brought over her treasure and asked, “What do you think this is?” I didn’t have a clue. I thought fossil, actually, because it didn’t look like any kind of “knee-bone connected to the thigh” bone I’d ever seen!
Bayou Fabio does look rather impressive, huh? I’m looking forward to actually meeting him next time I go back. See the link above – the National Geographic video about the “monster gar” is really interesting.
I’d never heard the “snakes and snails” version until I wrote this. The explanation I found for snips is that the original verse was “snips OF snails. That makes more sense. The only time I’ve ever heard the word “snips” stand alone was as a word for a kind of scissors – like tinsnips.
Linda
The language, the naming of these critters helps me love them better. I’m not a crawfish eater but have had a hand in catching them, while being both attracted and repelled by them. As for the “gar”, I love the word. It’s nearly a pirate word. It’s one syllable – I LOVE one syllable words. Anything that big and that resilient is not ugly – it’s so darn evolutionary.
And the ‘gator? I love the short form of his name and I’m glad I don’t live near them cuz my eyesight sucks sometimes and I wouldn’t want to misstep. Alligators thrive on Kiawah Island where we’ve vacationed more than once, and there they were, out and about, lazing on the land (yeah, right – lying in wait was more like it, I thought) and everyone said not to worry, just not to get close and if chased by one, run in a serpentine line rather than straight and we’d be safe.
Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed this entry. It’s a look at language and the facts, too, ma’am, and how can we not love Louisiana? I totally do.
oh,
How can we not love Louisiana? A lot of people don’t. I find it beyond ironic that two of the places I love most – Galveston and New Orleans – popped up recently on Wall Street 24/7′s list of “top ten dead cities” in this country. Loss of manufacturing base makes the list a little northeast/upper midwest heavy, but of course the hurricanes Katrina and Ike figured prominently.
One of the things I found of most interest is that the photo of Galveston used was just depressing, not at all like “Galveston Rising – the Light”. It’s another reminder that the details chosen by journalists can slant the report or the mental picture pretty substantially.
As for those alligators – if you want to see possibly the world’s most “awwwwww, cute” photo of an alligator, click here to see C.C. Lockwood’s great capture!
Linda
Linda,
I can’t allow it to go unsaid how much I enjoy your comments and answers to our comments. We always tell you how much we enjoy your writing, but you’ve provided much information, laughter and friendship in your comments. They’re often thoughtful, always supportive and sometimes slap-my-knee funny. You’re the best.
Bella
Bella,
That’s so nice of you to say! But truly – one of the things I love best about blogging is the interaction. I treasure every single comment – after all, if I didn’t care about people reading and responding I could just shove these things into a notebook, or read them to the cat. (She did find a hard copy of one of my entries once, and shredded it. I tried not to take it personally.)
And I love reading other folks’ blogs just as much. I try to control myself in the comments section, since I can run on from time to time, but it’s just fun. There’s too little of that in life these days, says me!
You’ve brightened my day, for sure!
Linda
(in response to your comment about those who do not love Louisiana:)
Pschaw!those journalists! I often read top 10 lists, just to see what’s what but always find, with some disappointment, that they never have anything to do wtih people. They always have to do with numbers: how many businesses, how many homicides, how many dual income families, how many this, how many that. Louisiana is people and beauty all wrapped up in heat and spanish moss and language.(Yes, I sound blithe, but do not mean to).
Yeah, it’s tough to have the capitalistic light (and in many cases, the hard reality) only shone on everything…meanwhile, Louisiana, and Galveston, endure, thank God and go forward regardless.
oh,
Exactly. Your comment made me think of a line from Annie Dillard’s “Pilgrim at Tiner Creek” – pardon the length, but I think the whole paragraph’s worth posting, for the context.
That’s right. And Galveston and NOLA are busy free-falling, performing with beauty and grace, no matter which list someone puts them on.
Linda
Oh Linda,
I finally got to come here and read another delightful story you provided for our enjoyment!
This one is very interesting. I totally forgot all those “jump rope” rhymes!
And so many others!
And we had “crawfish” in my area growing up in NE Arkansas. I have eaten them here in SE Florida, a place near our home is called “Rosie Baby” and it is a “Cajun” type of bar, lots of Jazz and Blues and they serve Boiled Crawfish. So had a few and once you get past the initial “shudder” they are darn good!
Growing up, my siblings, cousins & I, would catch crawfish in the ditches/bayous around. We would get a “tote sack” aka burlap bag, and put some stale corn bread or biscuits in the bottom. Then weight it down with some rocks, put a “t” bar across opening and attach a rope.
Sink that bag with the bait in the middle of the bayou and tie the end of the rope to something on the bank. Next morning, Walla, a bag full of crawfish. We would get paid by the local bait shops down town $1.00 per 100 crawfish! Back in those days we thought we were rich!
And when we fresh water fish those gars can be annoying… the needle nose gar especially. The big giant Alligator Gars just roll around…
Thank you so much for another stroll down memory lane along with learning new things I never thought about before! I love reading your stories!
Patti
Patti,
I’d forgotten Cinderella! But I do remember what it was like when the older girls would let us try “running in” for the first time – and the fun of double Dutch!
I’m amazed how many readers have crawfish stories – from Ohio, Washington, Oregon, Indiana and now Arkansas, along with the southern states. I wondered if Iowa has them – and indeed it does, in the Mississippi (and perhaps tributaries). I found a neat site that lists where you can find “crayfish” by state. I wonder if Karen knows they have them in Lake Tahoe? It’s really interesting to look at the list – it even gets as specific as highway over-and-underpasses!
I love the thought of you with your tote sack, hunting the mighty crawfish! That actually sounds pretty efficient – much more efficient than the old hunk of hot dog on a string! I always get such a kick out of the crawfish farms off I-10 between Houston and Lafayette. All those little critters, living in their little houses
Some day I’m going to stop at one of the farms that offers tours and get the whole low-down on the process. I’ve heard a sophisticated palate can tell the difference between wild and farm-raised – I’d be willing to do some taste-testing!
I’ve only got one thing against those alligator gar. They take the baby ducks in the spring. Of course it’s better that not every duckling survive – we’d have waaaaay too many ducks. But it’s a little distressing to see one pulled down by the feet! Oh, well. Gar’s gotta eat, too
Nice to have you back from your travels – thanks for stopping by!
Linda
Linda – I have to admit to skimming through this article. But I read enough to make a few comments (I always have something to say, don’t I?). First off, I’m not a fish person – don’t eat it. Purely psychological, I know. I picture a fish swimming through the water every time. Don’t know why that doesn’t happen when I eat chicken or beef, but it is what it is.
Matter of fact, I never even saw a crawdad until we were up in Tahoe last year. Well, I saw one, but not up close. We would take the kids down to the dock at night and catch them with bacon. We did a catch and release. It was fun and the closest to fishing I’ve done in quite some time!
Karen,
As I noted above, I didn’t have a clue there were crawfish in Tahoe until I wrote this. And yes, I thought of you immediately. I’ll be those crawfish are still telling their kinfolk about coming across some catch-and-release afficianados!
My mom’s not a fish eater, either. Just about a month ago I tried getting some tortilla-encrusted tilapia past her. I figured the coating might fool the eye and thus the taste buds. Halfway through it she looked at me and asked, “What is this?” “Chicken?” I suggested. She gave me the eye and said, “This is some kind of fish.” And that was that. Sigh. I try it about once a year. Never works.
Hope your own plunge back into the school year’s going great!
Linda
Hey darling, Good to see you again on that other web site. I don’t have much time to blog but felt I had to mark the date over there and speak for those in Northern Mississippi who had to deal with the great storm.
I miss the folks I used to chat with but so many have moved on. I am going to sign up and get your blog here by email as there are some things I could share with my students. I am back to teaching fifth grade again btw…. two more school years and I will move on to something else. 25 years at one job is enough, I say..
Hope the day is good for you and you have even better week!
hugs and love from an old friend.
Patti,
I’m delighted beyond words to have you stop by. You know how I’ve come to love Mississippi, just as I have Louisiana, and I was glad to see you putting up a remembrance for your part of the country, too.
Fifth grade, hmmm? It was one of my favorite years, and my teacher is one I remember most vividly. It’s a responsive age. If you haven’t found it in the archives here, there’s a story that was re-printed last year on the anniversary in the Sun-Herald – about Katrina, Mississippi and a young girl just slightly younger than your students. It’s called Dancing Down Life’s Storms. You might like it.
Our classes have begun here already – if yours haven’t, they will soon. I hope the year’s great for you – with luck we’ll get well into it without having to deal with a storm.
Linda
Hi Linda,
I’m not sure if I knew about this in the year it was written or not! I want to thank you for the mention in your wonderful article. This is another wonderful blog for me to follow. In the years since this has been written, I have opened up a store just for my Louisiana themed jewelry called Wetland Treasures on Etsy.
Kim,
I’ve followed you myself, and knew about the Etsy shop. I’m glad about that – the jewelry’s lovely, and a beautiful way to keep memories of the bayou close at hand.
I was going to mention to you and then never did – the last time I was in Louisiana at Christmas, I brought home some tree ornaments. They must have been made by these folks, as they’re exactly the same. I bought them in a gas station in Grosse Tete. I’m sure you’ve seen them or know about them, but I thought at the time they might be a nice addition to your inventory. The folks at the gas station said they couldn’t keep them in stock.
I see Bayou Fabio’s fixin’ to get famous. Good gosh. And to think we knew him “when”!
It’s so nice to see you – as we way in Texas, come on back now, y’hear?
Linda
I did NOT know about the ornaments! Thanks for the link. While I don’t have a supply of crawfish claws I could do the others. I’ll be back in Louisiana in April/May. I need to work on a new supply of jewelry.
Kim