Welcome to Memory Lane Friday! A weekly blog carnival where you can blog about your memories and link up. All are invited. This week has no theme.
I'm going to continue with more from my grandfather's memoirs. As always, these are his words - not mine- only lightly edited for spelling/grammar. If you'd like, you can read where I last left off HERE.
Jimmy, Alex, and I loved the large pond (at least it seemed large, when we were kids) which was only a short distance from the house and barn, down a small incline, and was not visible from the house. We spent many happy hours during the spring and summer - fishing, swimming and boating. In fact, we built our own boat, using scrap lumber. It was very crude, but navigable. It never sank and we were proud as peacocks; our little boat served us faithfully. Later, we found another use for our boat. We carried it up the hill, away from the pond, placed it under a big apple tree, and from that time on it became an abode for our animals which we caught in traps and later sold to fur buyers. We constructed several compartments in our boat in order to separate the animals, in other words, we did not allow our skunks to associate with the opossums. These were the only two animals we caught in our traps. The opossums hides were one dollar each, and the skunks brought two dollars, and sometimes more if they had dark, beautiful fur.
Jimmy and I had our first paying job ever when we were quite young. We drove turkeys a distance of approximately four miles from Barnett, Virginia, to Blackford, Virginia, which was a railroad town near Honaker, Virginia. Floyd Snead, who lived just about the Taylor Farm, would purchase turkeys from farmers who lived along the old road which passed through a large section of the Stuart Farm. Mr. Snead carried his own hand scales, weighing each turkey as he bought them. When we arrived at the turn off to Blackford, Virginia, we were driving hundreds of turkeys. Our biggest job was trying to keep those turkeys on the paved road and from flying into the woodlands.
Arriving at the Blackford Depot, we drove our turkeys into bins awaiting the railroad cards, which arrived later. We received one dollar each, for this unusually day long adventure. Over the years I have related this turkey drive to different people. They thought such an experience almost unbelievable. Yet it happened, and Jimmy and I were proud of our first job, especially the dollar we each received. I did not mention that there were very few cars in those days. On this entire trip we saw only one vehicle, an old truck loaded with gypsies, parked at an intersection near Blackford.
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