My Children Are More Precious Than Gold

by Risner, Fay

  “What's Mama so riled up fer?” Bess whispered when she sat down on the bed across from Cass and Veder. Lillie sat down beside her.

  “Ya didn't talk to her before ya came up here?” Veder asked in a lowered voice, looking up from her needles.

  “Nope, we seed her bang an iron down on the stove, and we slipped right on by. We could seed she was mad about somethin,” answered Lillie.

  “Say where's everybody else at? It sure is quiet around here,” asked Bess.

  “They's hid out, too,” Cass informed her. “The boys all went with Pap to the field. Mama sent Alma to the garden to pick turnips for supper, and Lydia's layen down. She told Veder and me to come up here out of her way. Handed me this here pail of beans, and Veder the yarn to keep us busy.”

  “But, what's she so riled up about?” Persisted Lillie.

  “She's real upset about her geese. After y'all left for Grandpa Bower's yesterday, the boys went to do chores and came back holleren fer Mama to come look at her geese. They was all dead.” Veder laid her needles down on the bed.

  “All thirty of em?” Gasped Lillie.

  “All thirty of em,” Veder confirmed in a matter of fact tone.

  “But what happened to all of em at once?” Asked Bess, aghasted.

  “We don't rightly know. Mama couldn't find anythin wrong with em,” Cass related. “They was layen scattered around down by the pig pen where they usually roost. Mama sure hated losen all of em after she took such good care of em. She told us to pick all the feathers offen em so she could at least have em to stuff pillows. She had the boys carry the carcasses up to the ridge timber for the coyotes to carry off.”

  The whole family had looked forward to the treat of baked goose on special occasions. The girls could understand why Nannie would be so upset at the loss of the geese. Nannie had been pleased with the good hatch the year before. She took special care of those big birds with the thought that there would be plenty of goose to eat for special occasions. She made sure the geese had plenty to eat and turned a deaf ear to the boys’ complaints that some of the ganders had turned mean.

  Nannie would have had a fit for sure if she knew how often one of the ganders had attacked the boys. For revenge, the boys tackled the squawking bird, and held his large flapping wings down while they tied his beak shut with a piece of twine. Luckily for the boys and the goose, the twine always slid off before the goose starved to death, or Nannie had a chance to see what had taken place.

  Suddenly, the girls heard Nannie's raised, excited voice from the kitchen below them proclaim, “Mercy sakes, those poor sick things!”

  Then came the hollow bang of the screen door, and after that, the sounds of loud, squeaky honks and hisses from the direction of the ridge behind the house. The girls ran to look out the bedroom window. Coming out of the underbrush, one by one, was a parade of featherless geese. Slowly waddling over the rocky ground, the large birds treated each rock as a big boulder to climb as they tripped and fell over them. Laboriously, they picked themselves up, staggering two steps forward then one back. Headed for their favorite spot by the pig pen, their heads drooped at the end of their long arched, necks which almost touched the ground while they staggered along. It seemed as though they had trouble seeing the path with their bulging, black eyes so they needed to get as close a look as they could. Loud honks and hisses emitted from the geese between labored gasps for breath to announce they were home.

  The girls ran downstairs to find Nannie and Lydia standing in the backyard. Jacob and the boys had just showed up from the field for lunch, and hearing the racket, Alma had run from the garden to see what was wrong. They all stood with open mouths, watching the weird precession file passed them.

  Lydia, slipping her little hand into her mother's, said in amazement, “They act jest like Pap does after he's been over to Tutt Jone's still.”

  A look came over Nannie's face as if she were standing in the shadow of a dark thunder cloud rolling overhead. Suddenly Nannie remembered about the wild grape jelly she had boiled up two weeks before. “Boys, did ya all empty those two pails of grape pulp to the hogs that was setten behind the smokehouse a couple weeks ago when I told ya to?”

  “Well, not exactly right then,” Lue admitted, inspecting his hoe handle.

  “When exactly did ya do it?” Nannie persisted, turning to look piercingly at the four older boys.

  “Was it afternoon afore last?” Lue looked blankly from Sid to Don to Tom for help.

  “Yep, I reckon so,” admitted Don.

  “I see,” said Nannie, sternly. “Did ya happen to notice ifen the geese ate out of the hog trough with the hogs?”

  “Sure they did, Mama,” Dillard piped up, trying to be helpful. He chose to ignore Lue's threatening glare. “They always eat with the hogs.”

  “Ya boys know what ya did? Ya gave my geese fermented grape pulp. Next time I tell ya to empty those pails right away, I mean fer ya to do it!”

  “Sure, Mama. We understand,” answered Sid, meekly.

  Suddenly Lue's eyes twinkled with realization about what had happened to his mother's geese. “Ya mean them geese was drunk?”

  “They was dead drunk yesterday was all,” giggled Don.

  Nannie's face took on the look of the darkest of storm clouds when she turned to her sons. Trying to keep a straight face, the boys decided it was time to retreat to lean their hoes against the back of the smokehouse. If she heard the muffled giggles from that direction, Nannie never let on. She headed back to the house with Jacob and the girls tagging quietly along behind her.

  It took some time for the geese to get back to full dress and about that long for Nannie to get back her usual good humor when it came to the subject of her geese. She dreaded the thought that her mischievous sons would try feeding fermented grape pulp to every fowl and animal on the place to get them drunk.

  It was always a sore enough reminder that the boys had did just that to her geese when the neighbors stopped by and noticed her geese covered with fuzzy down as if each bird had just hatch out of a gigantic egg. The question always came up as to why the geese looked that way. With a warning glance at her grinning sons to stop them from relating their detailed, exaggerated version of the drunken geese, Nannie would quickly reply,Theys been feelen puny lately. That's all.”

  Chapter 7

  The Thanksgiving Turkey

  “Mama, Mama!” Lue yelled, bursting through the screen door with Don on his heels.

  “Mercy sakes, we's in the bedroom. What's the matter now?”

  Breathlessly, the boys hurried to the bedroom door. Standing around the bed, Nannie, Cass, and Bess studied the layers of fabric they had stretched out across the bed. They were getting ready to baste the layers together and place them in the quilting frames at the end of the bed. Whenever any of the girls had a spare moment, they would be expected to sew on the quilt stretched in the frames. This top happened to be a simple but colorful nine patch pattern. There was no way to keep to a certain color scheme in those days. All Nannie’s quilt tops were cut and hand sewen from the lest faded pieces of discarded clothes in the rag box.

  “Mama, if we could catch a wild turkey that's nesten in the timber could we keep it? We'd have turkey for Thanksgiving dinner for sure without tryen to hunt one if the eggs hatched,” said Lue.

  “I don't know about that. I doubt y'all could get close enough to catch a wild turkey, besides ya'd have to try to catch her jest right to get her to finish sitten on her eggs. Where is this turkey?” Nannie asked, smoothing the top with her hands.

  “Up behind Tutt Jones's place on the ridge. We jest spotted her under some rhododendron bushes while we was mushroom hunten. She's sitten pretty tight cause she hunkered down and didn't move a lick,” answered Lue.

  “What would we have to do, Mama?” Asked Don.

  “Y'all would have to move her after dark while she's in a roosten stupor. The eggs would have to be handled easy and kept warm til ya got back home. There's no certainty that
the turkey will set again once ya move her. She's wild, and wild things don't like to be fooled with.”

  “We kin do it. I know we kin,” said Don, dancing from one foot to the other. “Where kin we put her?”

  “My box coop is empty. Make a straw nest in it and put in plenty of corn and water. After ya stick her on the nest, ya cain't go near her for a few days til she has a chance to set tight. That's how I'd do a cluck hen anyways.”

  “We'll fix the nest right now. Don, y'all see if ya can catch Jasper and tie him up. We don’t want him going with us tonight. He’d be after coons and make too much noise,” Lue said over his shoulder as he vanished with Don right on his heels.

  “Mercy sakes, gals. I wish I had the energy ya younguns do.” Nannie shook her head in wonder as she watched her two sons leave.

  Lue and Don could hardly wait for darkness to arrive so they could start after the turkey.

  “Mama, we’s goen to take a torch from the stack behind the cookstove with us. ' That all right?” Asked Don, looking at his mother cleaning the supper dishes off the table.

  “Yep, but I don’t have too many torches left so somebody’s going to have to get busy rounding me up another stack,” suggested Nannie.

  “We will be on the lookout for some more. Promise, Mama,” replied Lue.

  The pine torches were used like a flashlight when the family walked to a neighbors or the church after dark. Also, the torches lit the cabin up at night when they were out of coal oil for the lamps.

  The fuel end of the torch was a knot on a dead limb cut from a pine tree. As the limb died the resin in it went toward the knot. The size of the limb determined how large the knot would be. Of course, the bigger the knot the longer the torch would burn.

  Carrying a cloth lined pail, Lue walked beside Don who held the lit pitch pine torch. A full moon dusted the pasture with a hazy, yellow shimmer. Under the ridge's dense tree cover, the boys would have found walking in the dark difficult. The glow from the torch made it easier for the Bishop brothers to tread through the carpet of dry leaves and fallen twigs.

  Finally, the boys edged close to the clump of thick, green, leafed rhododendron bushes. They could barely make out the dark blob flattened on a nest of dried leaves and grass woven together, hidden near the base of the bush.

  “Don, stick that torch in the ground back there a ways and grab the turkey. While ya hold on to her, I'll get the eggs,” whispered Lue.

  Don jabbed at the hard ground with the pine torch, then turned loose to see if it would stay upright. Then he edge toward the rhododendron bush, leaned over and dove at the large, brown bird. He flattened himself on her. Startled, the frightened turkey struggled to get out of her predator's grasp. Her strong, long wings flapped profusely, flogging Don on the head and shoulders while the two of them thrashed about in the underbrush.

  Ignoring the battle going on near him, Lue concentrated on gently placing the nest full of large tan and dark brown speckled eggs in the pail, one at a time.

  “Help me -- ouch -- hold onto this -- ouch -- turkey, Lue! She's beaten me to -- ouch -- death with her wings -- ouch!” moaned Don.

  “I've got to get all these eggs picked up easy and covered like Mama told me. She said not to let them get cold or they won't hatch. Member?”

  “They'll get -- ouch -- cold ifen I let loose of this -- ouch --. Get over here now!”

  Lue covered the eggs with a dish towel, then turned his attention to the shadowy figure thrashing about in the bushes. In the distance, coon hounds bayed from their pen down at Tutt Jones's house. Tutt's voice carried in the darkness up the ridge as he yell at the dogs to shut up. Lue was afraid that Tutt might become curious enough to investigate what was upsetting his coon hounds if Don and the turkey didn't quiet down.

  By the time Lue set the pail down, Don penned the turkey to the ground with his body. He rolled over slightly to let Lue grip the turkey's body to keep her still until Don could slide his hands down to her legs and slipped an arm around her body to secure her wings. Lue had to help Don struggle to his feet then he made his way back to the pail of eggs.

  “Let's go afore Tutt comes to see what the ruckus is about up here.” Lue grabbed the pine torch and shone the light in Don's direction. He couldn’t help but chuckled. “Look at that poor turkey. She looks as bad as Mama's geese did. Ya almost plucked her clean.”

  “I couldn't hep it. I couldn't see to hold onto her, and she put up one heck of a fight with em wings. I'm smarten in more than a few places,” Don grumbled, looking around at the wallowed down underbrush covered with a mass of brown, speckled feathers.

  Three days later after they'd finished their morning chores, Lue and Don flattened their noses against the screen door to look into the cabin.

  “Mama, will ya check the turkey for us now?” Asked Lue.

  “All right, I'm curious to see if she’s setten, too. Cass and Bess, finish these dishes while I go with the boys.” Nannie dried her hands on the end of Bess's dish towel then reached into one of the crocks on the work counter. Cupping her apron tail, she tossed a handful of yellow cornmeal into it to feed the turkey.

  Just then Tutt Jones rode up, dismounted at the hitch rack by the yard gate and secured his horse. He greeted Jacob who came to meet him from the direction of the barn. The men heard the screen door bang and turned to look toward the cabin.

  “Howdy do, Misses. Hey, boys. Nice day, ain't it?” Tutt's stained lips parted in a crooked grin. His lower lip stuck out like the pouch of a chipmunk. He turned to spit an amber stream of chewing tobacco at the rocks beside his feet.

  Nannie nodded curtly, continuing to walk toward the coop. Lou, carrying a pail of water, walked right behind her, and Don followed him.

  “I declare, Jacob, sometimes I get the feelen yer Misses don't like me none.” Tutt drawled slowly. As he scratched his head, the skinny, unkempt man looked mystified by the thought.

  “Nonsense, Tutt. She's jest quiet around some folks,” said Jacob, defending Nannie.

  The men watched Nannie squat slowly, trying not to spill the cornmeal in her gathered apron tail while she opened the coop door. The sudden light from outside caused the turkey to flattened in the nest to protect her eggs. Quickly, Nannie refilled the feed and water pans then closed the door.

  “Well, Mama?” Asked Lue, softly.

  “She's setten. I sure didn't think she would,” acknowledged Nannie, turning to head back to the house.

  Curious about the attraction of the coop, Tutt watched Nannie and the boys bent down around the coop. “Jacob, what's yer Misses got in that coop? A cluck hen?”

  “No, the boys caught a wild turkey, and she setten on a nest of eggs,” bragged Jacob.

  “I declare! Never heard tell of setten a wild turkey,” Tutt said, scratching his head. “I got some tame turkeys. I jest let em run. Fact is one of em came up missen the other day. Em dang thieven coyotes carry 'em off, and I jest about know when they got this one. A few nights ago my coonhounds set up a fit at a ruckus up on the ridge behind my place. Pect that turkey and a coyote were goen at it then.”

  Nannie overheard Jacob and Tutt’s conversation on her way back to the porch. She turned to Lue and Don and whispered hoarsely, “Ya two get in the house with me right now!”

  Sitting at the table, she clasped her hands tightly together and frowned crossly at the boys. Nannie waited to speak until they had slipped into chairs across from her, sliding down under the table so just their heads showed. “Does that turkey belong to Tutt Jones?”

  “I don't know, Mama,” Lue declared. “We thought it was a wild one.”

  “Ya did say it was nesten near Tutt's place. I thought it was mighty funny that a wild turkey would set that tight after moven it and it nearly plucked bald, too.”

  “Reckon it could be Tutt's. What do ya want us to do, Mama?” Asked Don.

  “Ya have to take the turkey back to Tutt. I know that waggen tongue of his. I don't want him tellen the neighbors that the Bishop boys
stole his turkey. Which ya all did!” Nannie rolled her eyes upward as if seeking heavenly guidance.

  “But if we move that poor turkey now she won't set again and none of the eggs will hatch. Besides she was in a bad place. Ya heard Tutt. A coyote would have got her fer sure. Couldn't we jest wait til she hatches since she's so close?” Pleaded Lue.

  “Yer probably right,” Nannie admitted reluctantly. “All righty, leave her be till she hatches then take the whole family back.”

  “Thank ye, Mama,” said Lue, winking at Don.

  A week later loud peeping sounds came from the wooden box coop, when Lue and Don walked past it. The boys rushed to the cabin to get Nannie. She hurried to the coop. She peeked in to find a mass of tiny, fuzzy, brown and tan striped heads with bodies burrowed under the turkey's featherless wings, trying to hide from the light that flooded through the open door.

  Soon the turkey and her ten growing poults needed a larger place so the boys moved them to a coop that had a screened runway. The frightened brood ran back and forth, exploring the strange coop, getting a glimpse of the world around them while their frustrated mother fretted over them. The turkey desperately tried to watch all ten babies at the same time, running from one end of the runway to the other with each loud cheep one of her poults made.

  The Bishop children gathered around the coop to watch the baby turkeys first look at the world. The naked turkey, clucking nervously to her lively offspring scattering in every direction had the children in laughing fits.

  “Boys, the turkey and her hatch have to go back to Tutt's now,” ordered Nannie.

  “Oh, Mama, could we keep a couple of the turkeys? After all, Tutt doesn't know how many of em there was, and he wouldn't of had any ifen we hadn't saved em and took good care of em. Besides they’d taste plenty good at Thanksgiving,” implored Lue.

  “They ain't ours to keep.” Looking wistfully at the baby turkeys, Nannie was torn by the need to feed her family and by what she thought was the right thing to do. Finally she mumbled to herself, “But Tutt would have nothen ifen we hadn't took care of em turkeys for him. A couple of them sure would taste good for Thanksgiving dinner to feed my younguns.” The thought ran through her head, Besides fer what that no good man over charges Jacob fer his corn liquor, he owes this family some, I reckon. Outloud, she said, “All righty, take all but two of em back. Then remember don't ever take anythen that ain’t yers again. Ya all hear me?”