Just for the sake of the Vegan's out there. I wish inform various family and random readers know, we don't even kill rattlesnakes, unless absolutely necessary. My husband loves almost all creatures .. spiders, NOOO! But, he does take the spiders outside, except for the Black Widow, Brown Widow, and Violin Spider. They go dead. Steve was bit by a Violin Spider on his mission and he became extremely sick. That's it. All our children don't hunt nor do my son-in-laws. Fishing is catch and release unless the family is really hungry. I was taught by my dad, even when we catch Grunion Fish we EAT them, every one. They are the size of maybe a smelt and let me tell you, after I cleaned 300 little fishes, by myself and in what amounted to, a metal tough, I wasn't so eager to catch even one more. Yes, they do taste wonderful, but my dad was cooking.
My grandfather was the opposite of Vegan. He killed all game animals and we ate them all. Eww. This is really old-time thinking, but he also had everything saved by way of taxidermy or tanned. His shop downtown, that included western wear and tack, was filled with heads of different animals that he had killed. It was Santa Paula's own Natural History Museum. And, even some of the animals were not just heads. There were birds, like quail, full-sized coyote, spotted skunk, and of course the tacky Jack-A-Lope. Ahhh, I don't think I ate that morphed Jack Rabbit. They were all trophy animals carcasses. My grandfather's walls started filling-up with animals when my grandmother died. These included a big wolverine, a bear rug, a coyote skin, his Indian vests that were made with bear claws and handmade bone beads. The claws and beads were all made from animals that he had killed. Yes, bears from Canada.
|Grandma & Grandpa's Strawberry Roan House|
|Grandpa Joe & Deputy Sheriffs The Santa Barbara Parade|
|I'm Riding Chico In The Fillmore Parade & He Danced The Whole Way|
Chico's beautiful, strawberry roan, soft hair was made into a lamp shade and a pair of chaps that had Chico's brand on my grandfather's hip. I could never wear them and I have no idea where these items finally ended-up and I hope long gone.
I have a leopard seal skin, with the bullet holes. I have a small long box with bald eagle feathers, and a fox pelt. I have the eagle feathers to give to each grandchild or nephew if they achieve Eagle Scout. These animals were killed before 1930, the box that holds them is dated 1930 with my grandfather's handwriting. The animals could have been processed even way before ... the fox is in an antique picture with my great grandmother and dated 1898. Grandpa Joe would be over 111 years old this year, so this is all old-timer stuff and to us, and bizarre.
I had a few friends over to my house when I was about 5 years old. Playtime was all a "con" because I talked them all into moving with me, the big, round, iron top off of a deep-pit Bar-B-Que in our yard. The top was like a pot-hole cover, only larger in circumference. We lived in the house behind my grandparents. We were caught about the time I was getting ready to be lowered down into the deep abyss. WHY ??? So, from then on, Grandpa took every "extra" deer, elk, antelope, and moose horn out from under his house on Laurel Road and stacked them up on the iron cover and over the 'spit' handle and frame and made this huge frame that turned into a large tree of horns and honestly kept growing until 1976.
My mother had saved items from Grandpa's, when she was cleaning-out his home after Grandpa had died. Some animals were just too much to save--I mean, too sad.
I'm still recovering from when I saw my favorite chickens slaughtered. I thought all my daughters would be Vegan after each meat animal that they sold during the auction at the county fair. It's still a decision some are still considering. My Larin was stopped-in to a grocery store in her small town in Utah last November and an out-of-towner told her, all excitedly, "Look in the back of my truck!" It was a head of a beautiful antelope from her valley, Sevier County, Utah. On the hitch was a small cooler container of meat, so much meat was left wasted, was the animal so little? No, the hunt was all for the head. My Larin walked home with her children and cried and was grateful that her children didn't see that beautiful animal that way. Months are dedicated to hunting in Utah and other Western States. I get it and I know! Yes, I know. The critters need to be thinned-out and they would be pests like Kiely's big doe that eats garbage and knocks over all the trash cans, all winter, every single night. There's the same huge deer in her drive-way and right on campus and it's a trash digger.
Trophy heads and competitions seem wasteful and the heads all over house walls and businesses are just another form of idols to be adorned at Christmas. The saved heads and bodies seem almost sacrilegious and irreverent.
I don't want this to end without me trying to fix-it. I am a bit nuts, after all. Remember, the stool with the bull's feet that my grandfather had made? Yesterday, I took one of the bull's bent leg and hoof, and went into Kiely's bedroom ... she loves cattle ... My arms were filled with pillows and quilts and I made a big body in her bed and sticking-out of her covers, there was the bull's leg to hold the covers in place. I wish I had done that before I had to feed, because I could've set-up a video camera. Kiely's reaction was so terrific! I scared her and she screamed so loud it rocked the house and danced .... and Matt, Kiely's new husband, laughed. Me?...Oh-No! I've signed-up! It's pay-back and I'm watching and keeping my heart pills close.
|Fun Prank With My Daughter--She Can Take It|