Nine moccasins

We used to have 'frog fries' out in the yard when I was growing up. A big black pot would be hung on a tripod over a woodfire until the lard was sizzling hot. Breaded bullfrog legs were lowered into the hot grease and the frying was on. Smelled great!

Before a 'frog fry' it was necessary to go bull-froggin'. We would take a small boat out into the pond and shine a flashlight or spotlight along the bank and look for the glowing eyes of large bull frogs. The frogs would often be heard sounding their characteristic low song, "Oh- -woe-woe-want". We'd paddle close until they were in reach and then use the three pronged bullfrog gig to spear the prey. Sometimes the frog would scream a loud "aaaaaeeeeeee!" when the gig hit him.

When a sufficient number of the unfortunate bullfrogs were collected in the burlap sack it was time to return home to prepare them. If the frog was still kicking I remember someone striking them on the head with the knife handle and again it might cry "aaaaaaaeeeeee!". The legs had to be cut off and this was more easily done to a stunned frog. I think that we preferred ours frog legs fried with the skin off. I don't remember any of the frogs' spots showing through the fried batter like it does at some local restaurants where the skin is left on.

This picture was taken when my brother, Gary, was quite young, maybe four years old. I would have been a newborn if I'd been born at all. This photo is the most worn and damaged photo among the hundreds of photos that mom recently went through and organized. This photo was probably shown more times than any other of our photos. I bet Gary took it to school many times to impress his friends, too. These are the nine moccasins that were killed during a frog hunt that Gary participated in. That's our dad at the other end of the stick. He's doing all the work. Gary only THINKS he is helping Dad hold the stick up.

All these snakes remind me of the night that we had fried rattlesnake for supper. Dad had killed a big rattler and he'd cleaned it and cut it up so that it looked more like a bowl of chicken backs than anything else I can think of. Mom didn't want to cook it. She had always been afraid of snakes and had nightmares about them frequently. She didn't want anything to do with them. Dad insisted and she gave in to his wish. I remember her crying over the stove as the snake fried. Me and mom didn't eat any of it. I'm sure Gary and Dad feasted heartily. I did eat rattlesnake, turtle, bear, deer and alot of other things later in life, but that night seeing mom's distress, I couldn't bear the thought of it.