*****************Warning************************* This story contains explicit details about the way we killed our animals for meat and put them in the smoke house. It is not for those of you that have never grown up on a farm or had to hunt for your survival. Please don't read this if you are upset about hunting and preparing animals for eating and the freezer.
It was hog killing day for our family and all were expected to help in some way. It usually happened in the cooler weather to keep us from sweating to death and to keep the meat fresh as it was hanging in the Smoke House.
Mama had a big old cast iron cauldron that was heated over a bunch of dried hard wood so that it would heat quickly and sustain the heat for as long as we would need the water to boil. It was banked so that the cauldron was leaning on its side for easier access to put the pig in. I know that there may be some that are confused by now if you have never scalded a pig, but for those of you in the know, you understand completely what I mean.
Daddy would bring the hog up and put a slit in its throat so that it would bleed out and not spoil the meat. I know some of you may be game hunters and say that it is not necessary to split the throat on an animal and that is partially true. If the heart is beating then it is necessary. If the heart has stopped and the animal is dead, then no blood is circulating and you don't need to slit the throat. But our Daddy always slit the throat and let the animal bleed out to keep the meat good. That was just his way and was probably the way his Daddy and his Daddy before him, did it too.
When the pig was dead, he would dip the animals in the cauldron as far as he could to soften the skin so he could use his knife and scrape the hair off the meat. Daddy liked the skin as soft as a baby's bottom and no hair on it, so that when he cooked it up, it would get brown and toasty as it baked or fried.
Daddy ate the fat right along with the meat which is probably why he stroked badly with high blood pressure when he was 62.
It was the way of so many back in those days and to tell the truth, I love the fat too. I almost never trim my chops or Corned beef. I just love the fat and no, I don't eat it like that often. I haven't had pork chops in well over a year and corned beef once this year.. So there, as Miss Earline says. LOL
The hog was dipped and pulled out of the pot and scraped. There was always a cover on the ground so that sand or dirt did not get on the pig although daddy washed it off when it was hanging too. He was very careful about making sure the meat was clean for us and for him. I think Daddy ate some kind of meat every day of his life. Maybe not in the later years but we all sure put away some animals when I was growing up. There was 6 hungry mouths to feed and I can't say as a child that I ever went without. Daddy made sure of that.
After the hair was scraped off, Daddy made a slit on the back hooves right between the tendons so that he could put the pig up on this butchering type thing he had made. It had two pieces of wood sticking out from the back of the smoke house and it was whittled narrow on the ends so that you could thread the slit he made onto the wooden spikes up off the ground and then he would tie it into place so it wouldn't slip off while he was butchering the animal. He had a pot underneath it to gather up all the guts and stuff as he slit the belly open and these were taken deep into the woods for the wild animals. He kept the intestines to make chitlins and cleaned off every other part that we could eat too. Daddy lived by a "waste not, want not", type mentality and we used every part of all of the animals that we hunted.
If it was an animal that we skinned, we kept the hide and the boys, Lee, Clifton and Ernest Lee would take them and stretch them on the sides of the barn to keep or use in belts or hat bands, such as when we got a rattler. There was always an assortment of hides drying on the barn walls and at any given time you might see Coon, Possum, Rabbit or Squirrel Hide drying, depending on how lucky we had been that week.
I know it may sound callous to some as I recount this memory but it never was. We did not take food for granted and the blessings were said before we ate a bite. We were grateful for our food and that Daddy and the boys had provided it for us.
I was not a hunter but I was one that could skin the animal and fix it up for every body. I could never kill an animal but after it was dead, I switched into taking care of it for the family. I knew how to skin a squirrel, rabbit, coon, or possum.
Daddy always had us slit all the way around the stomach and pull the hide down around the feet and head. then we pulled the hide as close to the claws as we could and cut off the feet. We carefully peeled the hide over the squirrel head, because we were going to eat the head so we did not want any fur in our food. After cleaning the squirrel, cutting off the claws and getting the eyeballs off the head, we would wash it, salt it, meal and/or flour it and fry it up.
All the kids would fight to have the head. I know that sounds gross to some but this was our way. We like the brains. They were so good and all of us kids wanted the head. If there weren't enough for all of us, the older kids got first and Donna and I would share one but usually there was enough for anyone that wanted it.
We were blessed in that way that our brothers and Daddy were good shots. Ernest, Clif and Leeroy were always out hunting when I was little as I recall and we always had a deer and plenty of meat to fill the freezer each year. We put up everything we hunted, grew or bought so that in lean months, we had plenty of food.
When the Hog was sufficiently cleaned, Daddy would begin the butchering process. The Hips for nice Hams for the smoke house, the Pork Butt or shoulder, the ribs, the pork chops and loins. Daddy would save the bits to grind into sausage or to makes gravies. Like I said before, every part that could be used, was used for something.
Daddy would take the big hams and salt them down good then open the door to the Smoke House. It had hanging wood beams so that you could hang your ham over it tied with a piece of rope and then it had a place in there to have the fire that you would use to smoke the wood. It was a long process to prepare the ham and I can't believe to this day that daddy had time to work, grow a huge garden and smoke his own meat, but he did it, every year without complaint.
We would use Oak, Hickory or Pecan wood to smoke the meat if we wanted flavors and daddy was real good about keeping the fire smoking instead of burning. He would draw water from the well in its trough and put it in a bucket outside the smoke house, then check on his meat and pour water over the fire several times a day to keep the meat from over cooking.
While Daddy was doing his part on the pig, Mama was busy making lye soap by rendering down the fat from the pig bits that daddy would give her in the cast iron cauldron that we had used to get the hair off the pig. She cleaned it well, put fresh water in and rendered the fat. When the fat was ready, she would do the rest of the process. I would watch but not be allowed to help because it would be dangerous if I got any of the caustic substance on myself. Of course I did not know that at the time but my Mama had a long broom handle stick to stir it with as it was cooking. She was careful so I knew that it could burn me or hurt me in some way. Mama would stay busy and in the end we would have lye soap to wash our clothes in the wringer machine and the washtubs and to clean ourselves in.
It smelled clean. I can't describe it any other way. I liked the squeaky clean feeling I had when we bathed in the wash tubs and used her soap. Of course I only remember this happening a time or two growing up as Mama wasn't at home for all the killing but I still remember her doing it real good this one time. I can see her still in my memory with her apron up, her hair up out of the way of cooking and her dress. I sat to the side and watched her stir and stir that soap until it was ready. It is a good memory for me. My mother was protective of me this time and one other so that is a good reason to believe that she did love me, even if she never said it.
We would have some good eatin when the Ham was ready and afterwards it was ice cream making time in the summer months. Daddy made really good ice cream. Often it was Vanilla but sometimes it was Peach which was my favorite. Daddy would put the eggs, Milk, Vanilla , Ice cream mix in a bowl to mix well by hand and then pour it into the middle metal section of the ice Cream maker. Ours wasn't electric so that was all hand cranked which took some time.
When the mix was in the middle, Daddy would layer the Ice and rock salt all around the edges to keep it good and cold. Then he would put the top on and take it outside on the back porch for us to sit in chairs as he cranked the ice cream. We would start off with the lightest child on the maker to hold it down while daddy cranked. The harder the ice cream got, the bigger the child got that was sitting on it. Daddy liked his ice cream hard so he would crank it until it moved all the way around while we sat on it. It was like a bucking bronco at times. LOL
When it was done to his satisfaction, we all got bowls and daddy gave us all some ice cream. The best I have ever tasted in my life. After ice cream was finished and bowls were licked and dishes done, we would all settle back on the back or front porch.
Daddy usually went to the front cause he could sit in the swing and watch cars go by. Clif and Ernest were often on the back porch playing cards with match sticks or money if they had worked in the fields that week. Daddy would sit out front and hope that one of us kids was dumb enough to challenge him to a game of checkers. We would do that a few times until it proved futile.
Daddy was an excellent Checkers player and it was poetry to watch a new victim fall into his trap. He would be jumping and Kinging his while you were sitting there scratching your head and saying, what just happened. LOL. I think he took some pride in his checkers skill , even though we were taught that pride was sinful, Daddy would smile when he lighted up his old pipe with his belly full and his ego stroked like a cheshire cat. Good memories of a job well done.
Kids fed, garden weeded, meat smoked, dessert made and ate and a game won for one more day......
Love to you Daddy as Fathers day approaches. You taught me so much without saying a word and you were a good man. I am so glad that you stopped drinking when you did and gave us years of you being you, which was a decent hard working man. I Love you. Always, your lil ole gal, Glorann...
(google image for the ice cream maker and cauldron. Ours was real big)
