Tracks of the StoneBear ROF = Ring of Fire Journey
You never drink twice from the same stream.
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Leeds, Alabama circa 1958 to 1963
Songs of The South
Wrrrrummph, wrrrrummmpf...
That;s the sound you hear from a bullfrog during the hot Summer in the South, frog gigging season. ... in the dark of the night. You head for the sound into the dark humid night So dark you can't see your hand in front of your face... except for a carbide lamp.
It's a song of the south that few ever hear. Cicadas/ Locusts chirping in a chorus in the pecan trees is another song of the south... that;s another post.
Frog gigging IS a lost art / hunt.
I was priviledged to hear this song of Bullfrogs singing from an early age in Alabama. Few,... and I mean few know this experience. The wrruuummmmpf sound was the frogs calling out during mating season.
I went with Dad from age 6 or 7 ~ 1958, he carried me on his shoulders and back in the deep water at times. Then I would get down behind him and walk the creek banks, or around the ponds. Most of what I remember was about 10 to 13... 1960 to '63.
It was Alabama summer - hot- 90*+... time to go gigging... after school let's out as Dad would say. The cicadas, locusts would be chirping. Wait 'til the dark of the moon.... the carbide light lamps would freeze the frogs from moving/ ...from jumping. The bright light from the carbide lamps would freeze frogs in their place. Then you could move in close and reach 7 to 8' and gig a frog.
Frog gigging is an art... it's hunting, but you really have to know how to do it. Dad was one of the best. No joke. I;ve seen and been with others trying to gig... Dad was one of the best ever!
Dad would ask "you wanna go giggin' with me tonight"? Yes Sir... i'd answer; you say yes Sir in the South... and Yes M'aam. You're raised that way in the South.
We'd tie the 7' pole gigs - a 4" metal set of prongs on the end - like a small Neptunes spear - with whatever rope or string we could find onto the top of a '49 Ford and head out into the June/July/August Alabama sweltering night.
Dad had about 40 favorite places to gig every year. Little Cahaba creek, dry creek behind the cement plant... some of the banks were poured concrete so the creek wouldn't drain back into the cement plant quarry. Lower Little Cahaba... we'd get in at Fullers Mill across from Harry Walkers place... that was a family thing (some of the Fullers were a cousin of the Littles. Miss Emma Little born 1884 - that was my Grandma ... was one of the first women to graduate from Alabama Central Female College in 1904). Fullers mill was the original Cahaba valley corn milling mill in the 1830s in the Cahaba valley south of Birmingahm. ... and gig the creek down past Harry Walkers and Dr Edwards place to the little/ small bridge near the Musgroves place.
Sometimes we'd go to Lake Purdy when the water was down. If it was dry and the banks not to sloppy to walk around... it would be a good night. 30... maybe 40 frogs; some big ones. They'd stretch about 16", maybe 18" head to toe... the thigh would be a little smaller than a chicken drumstick... really good pristene meat in a dinner. Mom would batter them up, an egg dip with a teaspoon of milk, cornmeal,... and fry them and it was fine Southern eating... doesn;t get better.
During Summer we'd have a frogleg dinner about every 2 to 3 weeks, often on Saturday night. Froglegs, mashed potatos... real mashed potatoes, before instant- with white gravy - fried okra... a peach basket of okra cost a quarter, lima beans or green beans, sometimes some onion rings... and biscuits. Real biscuits... NOT whop biscuits... the store kind you whop on the counter edge to open... it was a feast. That meal probably cost $2. We weren't poor but there was a constant struggle to make ends meet. ... the gas/ lights/ water being cut off were a constant monthly rotation. Froglegs are a delacacy of cusine in many places and fine resturaunts; it was a staple at our house while the utilities rotated being cut off.
Sometimes we'd have froglegs, fried green tomatos, corn, grits, and biscuits. Southern food is wonderfull! oh... and all this was fried in Crisco. No real Southern woman would fry anything but in Crisco... and use Martha White -yellow- cornmeal. Southern women are demanding.
About 2 dozen froglegs would fit into a half gallon milk carton; add about 2 tablespoons of salt and fill with water... put them in the freezer. We'd have a frogleg dinner every month in the Fall... into the new year and spring. In all those years of all those suppers I don't think I ever heard Mom or the 2 older sisters ever say thank you to Dad for for going out and gigging; they all said it was good... but never heard a thank you.
Site of the Dunnevant train wreck that almost took out the old Greene place.
Sometimes we'd go gigging... drive hwy 25 over the mountain into Shelby County to Dunnevant. Dunnevant, Alabama was the back woods.... the end of the world. Deliverance country. Really in the back country sticks. This is the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.
There was a place called "Howardtown". All the Howard clan lived in there. The over the mountain hillbillies would come into the small town of Leeds on Saturday to trade. Sometimes someone would ask where Luke, or Jake was... and the answer would be "he got kicked by a mule"... that meant Luke, or Jake... or whoever was dead. Got in a fight over some woman or wife and was stabbed and dead... buried somewhere in the backwoods of Shelby County, Alabama... he was no longer. You didn't ask anymore questions.
There was a place called "Howardtown". All the Howard clan lived in there. The over the mountain hillbillies would come into the small town of Leeds on Saturday to trade. Sometimes someone would ask where Luke, or Jake was... and the answer would be "he got kicked by a mule"... that meant Luke, or Jake... or whoever was dead. Got in a fight over some woman or wife and was stabbed and dead... buried somewhere in the backwoods of Shelby County, Alabama... he was no longer. You didn't ask anymore questions.
In the 1970's and 80's, old rich money Birmingham bought the land cheap... $100 an acre... and built a golf course development now called Shoal Creek... exclusive out of Birmingham, over the mountain... high brow housing development... it was the backwoods shithole of Dunnevant Valley; now they have PGA golf there.
Mr Bowdens ponds. Several ponds were always good for 2 gigs a season. His Son ran a honky tonk over on hwy 78 between Irondale and Leeds... a lot of riff raff there. I could never understand why rednecks would want to get drunk and fight when they were drinking. I saw a couple of parking lot fights that were brutal. Some the guys got sliced up bad from knife fighting. absolute stupidity... but this is the South.
Brompton... up hwy 78 towards Prescott. Bromptom was a country store and a couple of depression era run down buildings garages with a bunch of rusted out auto frames with weeds growing up throught them, chert / gravel yard in front of the building stained by drained oil changes. It was a shithole! The pond was about 3 to 5 acres, about 2 to 3 feet deep at the edges with thick moss. A fieldstone rock dam went across about 150 feet. We'd gig one side of the pond and walk accross this dam like a tightrope walker to the other side and gig for frogs. it was about waist high water pond and you had to gig the frogs all the way down to the bottom to gig them. There were snakes all over this place. Often I'd hear owls hooting; this is the back woods at night.
DeShazos pond... near where the interstate - I20- goes past Leeds now. They filled it in and put a mobile home park on it in the '70s. I hated this place. It was about a 2 to 3' deep pond with a dam. there was a thick moss all through it and walking around it thigh deep... you'd have to gig the frogs and plunge down a foot to actually gig the frog. There was a 3' concrete dam with a lot of smooth limestone outcroppings... when you waded up to it and shined the carbide light on it... about a dozen snakes would slither off into the pond; I hated this place. Dad would always say they won't bother you...
Doc and Dad. Doc and Dad were drinking buddies. Docs houseboat was up at the lake. On these frog gigging nights... sometimes up on Chocollolo creeek feeding lake logan martin... they drank more vodka than I have ever seen. Dad was a WWII cook in the Marines, and would fix a hangover drink of tomato juice, some wostershire, pepper, tabasco, some other kind of spices,,, and stuff i didn't know. Then would cook a breakfast of frog legs, grits, and buiscuits that would knock you down. It was that good. then they'd be ready for the day.
You could hear the frogs ... wrrrruuuumph, wrrrruuuuuumph. Just head for the sound. Usually walking the banks of a pond, around the banks, sometimes/ often wading knee deep to within 6 to 8', light from the carbide lamps would freeze the frogs - they wouldn't jump/ move- then reach and gig. ... and put them on the stringer.
On an average night each of us would get about 2 dozen frogs each. That was a good/ decent stringer. A couple of times we only got 4 or 5 frogs; that was unusual. Dad was that good. We had several nights over the years that we gigged so many frogs... maybe 75 or more,... that the stringer was too heavy to carry and would cut into my shoulder from the weight. maybe 35 pounds of frogs. a couple of times we made it back to the car, put the frogs in a tote sack burlap bag and went back for more; those nights were rare. Often by 11;30 or midnight or 1am we'd be heading back. Many times I'd go to school the next morning and be tired all day.
I'd always clean the frogs under the street light out by the back portch door. I've probably cleaned 10,000+ frogs. minimum. I cleaned all and disected OJT and knew more biology as a 6th grader than some college biology teachers. I knew all the parts of the frogs, and sometimes a bass or catfish, knew what organ function they served for life -- lungs, GI tract, stomach... Cut open the gullet and stomach to know what they were feeding on. That was good information. If frogs were feeding on crawfish, go gigging soon where there were plenty of crawfish.
My 10th grade biology teacher failed me in biology; for whatever reason... my own inatention, or she had simple mindedness of small town people/ teachers putting you into a slot and never really seeing what knowledge or abilties you had or potential you were capable of... it happens in small towns and small people think that way. Strange... I took that failed semester of biology in Summer school, different school, different teacher, different town, same book... and I get an "A"; ?How do you explain that?
Many nights we' come in about 11;30,... and stop by The Legion (American) and Dad would drink a couple of beers with his buddies. .. All of them were WWII veterans,... hard drinkers; go figure. Several of them would slip me a glass for a drink of their beer. I grew up early. I took that as the pride of a man; a reward for a hunter / fisher/ outdoorsman coming back from the hunt -- just like hunters did a millenium ago--. Many of the fishermen would stop by coming back from the river- Logan Martin- with a loaded stringer of bass... several 4 to 6 lb, crappie... 20 to 40 Striped bass, crappie... We all iced down our stringers... and it was kinda a show off to the other barflies at the legion. I've seen other guys gig some frogs... maybe 10 or 12 and think it was a good night; never saw anybody gig more frogs than Dad; he was a natural sportsman and was really good. Dad would have a stringer of 50 to 60 frogs and the guys were in awe. I guess it was some show off pride in the South.
Once a year we'd have a lunch in downtown Leeds at the White House Cafe... with all the local hunters game and fishers, and Dads froglegs were served with bass, catfish, french fries, local vegetables... ie... fresh garden tomatos, Grits... fried green tomatoes... green beans,... ect... a Southern Feast. That dinner grew into the annual wild dinner at Harry Walkers country club. Harry , and Doc, and Dad were hometown buddies. It was a feast of wild game. When dad got old and retired/ disabled... the frog legs dried up.
We' go and gig into some of the snakiest places I've ever seen. I've seen more snakes in the wild to last me. Most 2' + water snakes/ moccassins... bannded water snakes, some huge 3 to 4', some cottonmouths. Dad would go past them and say don't bother them; they're scared of us. I gigged and killed all I came across. One time I shined my carbide lamp on my stringer I was dragging through the creek and there was a water moccasin currled in trying to eat a frog. I've seen a lot of stuff for a simple southern country boy. I guess i'm about as southern redneck boy growing up as you could get.
Also ... there is no such thing as Bigfoot or Sasquatch. I've been out in the remote backwoods of the Appalachian foothills at night and have never seen any evidence of any kind of bigfoot, or tracks
Also ... there is no such thing as Bigfoot or Sasquatch. I've been out in the remote backwoods of the Appalachian foothills at night and have never seen any evidence of any kind of bigfoot, or tracks
I don't think you can frog gig now anymore. The water/ streams I've seen in the last 2 decades/ since 1990 are polluted/ contaminated and do not have any life in them. We have turned our streams into sewers. I would not eat any frogs or fish out of the streams I;ve seen in 20 years. I 'm thankful that I got to go with Dad and experience a lost art/ hunt. It IS GONE now... like most of our country. It was really something to go gig when it was good! ... and eat fine southern food!
And I've drank water out of those creeks and streams... a thousand times. Thirsty in the hot Alabama night... I'd reach down and scoop a drink of water; NOT NOW. I won't even wade in and the creek banks and water... now they are so polluted. I hate to see this era gone. Glad I got to see and do it when I was a kid.
You never drink twice from the same stream. StoneBear
You never drink twice from the same stream.
Copyright MMXV ALL StoneBearTracks blog posts and photographs ALL Rights reserved
