Wild Turkeys

My father loved to take rides in the country and, though I got car sick when I was very little, I enjoyed these rides when I was older. He would take "the long way" to the farm where we bought fresh eggs straight from the farmer's wife. I loved to visit her because the family had a very large and friendly black Labrador dog.

One fall day as we neared the farm, my father suddenly halted the car. Now it must be said that we were on a back road that was sparsely used, so we were perfectly safe in doing this. His sharp, experienced eyes had spotted something in the field--Wild Turkeys--a whole flock of them were eating in a "shaved" corn field. I watched from a hundred feet away as they strutted and pecked their way along the edge of the field. My father told me that I should be happy to see this because people who were not hunters usually did not see these birds. Turkeys have very keen hearing and eyesight, but we were sufficiently far enough away and so we watched for as long as we wanted. But, we had to get eggs and so we reluctantly drove on down the road to our destination.

I never saw another wild turkey until my husband and I took my mother for a drive in lower Lancaster County and happened upon a flock of wild turkeys who thought they owned the road. Evidently, the whole neighborhood was feeding these birds and they refused to budge until we honked at them. Then, the old Tom turkey took offense and attacked our car! Windows were rolled up quickly! That was an exciting adventure for all of us!

Yesterday, I had another exciting "turkey adventure"-- in my backyard! In the 32 years that I lived in the Boro, I had never seen a wild turkey. The good Lord urged me to raise my head to look out the kitchen window and into the back yard and there was the most beautiful wild turkey, a hen, grazing in our long grassy lawn She was strutting boldly back and forth, stopping only to peck at something in the grass occasionally. I couldn't take my eyes off of her and my chin remained on the floor. As she strutted out of my line of site, I grabbed my camera and ran to the bedroom window where she continued to strut and graze contentedly. Then, as I moved to take her picture, she looked at me. The camera failed. I became frustrated and the turkey decided she had better take cover and ran to crouch behind a small patch of mint growing beside the cellar doors. She popped her head up to look at me warily, then slowly decided that I was no threat and came out in the open again to feed. I gave up on taking her picture and just enjoyed the magnificent bird that the Lord chose to show me this beautiful fall day. When she finally disappeared into the long weeds and grasses that grew down the hill to the creek, I thanked God for his wondrous world and beautiful animals. It is doubtful that I will ever see a wild turkey in my yard again. I will treasure those few moments forever!

Spiced Crab Apples & Peaches

1 cup vinegar

1/2 to 3/4 cup water

3 cups sugar

10 or more whole cloves

2 sticks cinnamon, broken into pieces

Bring to a boil.

Add small whole peaches (or cut in half)

(NOTE: White Belle of Georgia peaches are best, but other kinds can be used.)

Cook slowly (NOT high heat) until heated through.

Pack in clean hot jars and seal.

NOTE: Mother said she never processed these, but the "Ball" book recommends processing in a hot water bath for 10-15 minutes/

NOTE: For CRAB APPLES:

Bring to a boil.

Add crab apples and heat until the skin cracks a little. [ You can pierce each with a needle to prevent cracking, but I think of the cracks as part of the product.]

Add only enough apples to cover the bottom of the pan.

Cook slowly. NOT on high heat!

Pack in clean, hot jars and seal.

Process 10-15 minutes in hot water bath per the Ball book.

NOTE: These will turn brown over time--nothing to worry about. That was how my mother's were. If you want the color to remain, I suppose you could add some ascorbic acid to each jar.

Getting Ready for Winter

Getting ready for winter involved many things including searching for clothes, canning, and preparing the house for the inevitable forces of winter. In our little town, winter meant several inches of snow which accumulated over the weeks into several feet of snow.

Winter clothes were pulled out of closets and boxes and tried on to see if they still fit. Holes were darned (Does anyone know how to do that yet?), or repaired on the electrified treddle sering machine (What a classic!). Mother took note of what was needed and these were given to us as Christmas gifts later. Boots, skates, hockey sticks & pucks were found, as well as the shovels.

I don't remember my mother canning anything but spiced crab apples, a delicacy at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I will publish her recipe after this post. I must say, however, that here in Lancaster County, I have been unable to even FIND crab apples, let alone spice them. Mother always got hers from an orchard in Mifflin County. Now THERE is a good memory! The man there always gave us each a big juicy peach to eat right there at the orchard. Best peach of the season! Bushels of apples and peaches and pears were brought home and stored in the cellar.

To prepare the house for winter, my father was in charge of going around to each of the large, water-filled radiators and, using a special "key," he would let any unwanted air out of the system. I'm so glad I went around with him those many years ago, because that job falls to me in the house we have now. Same job, different type of radiator. Back then, the radiators had fins and a flat-top shallow cover. Nothing was supposed to be on those covers, but I remember things kept on every one of them. The long one in the dining room didn't have a cover, but we dried our wet scarves, hats and mittens on top and our boot toes beneath. Mother balanced her yeast dough for rolls and breads there also. What a wonderful smell permeated the house as the dough rose! And it was a nice warm place to sit and talk on the phone, provided it wasn't too hot!

After Daddy removed air from the radiators, his next chore was to start the furnace for the winter. I'm not sure what exactly that entailed, but ours was a coal furnace. I can still remember watching the big dump truck back into the alley beside our house. The man would set up a chute from the truck to the open window of the coal room in the cellar (Do people have cellars any more?). Then he would start shoveling the coal onto the chute and down it would slide. It was a very long and noisy task and coal dust was thick in the cellar, so I was not permitted down there until later. When I was a teenager, I was "permitted" to shovel coal into the furnace and to shovel ashes into a galvanized wash tub, which I then carried up the stone steps to the back porch and dumped down an unused cistern that we were attempting to fill up.

I know that not many people today have coal furnaces or understand the heavy lifting involved in keeping such a furnace fueled and functioning properly. But I'm really glad that I was "permitted" to do that for my parents. I feel as if I participated in a slice of old-time American culture. There were other chores I performed back then, that are no longer done by the majority of people. Today, I feel that I am a privileged person for having done these things!

Will my children and grandchildren feel privileged when they are my age??? Time will tell.