Day 15: Family taking care of family…
There is no handbook, there are no formal rules, but in the South (and some other places around our great country) family just takes care of family. The McIntyres were a big family and as with all families there were jealousies, bickering, and attitudes, but at the end of the day, you are still family, and no one outside the family had better mess with you.
When Debby and I were young, we spent a lot of time with Daddy’s family, because that’s what he wanted. I loved the Clarke family, and they were always good to me, I’ll tell you more about them later. But during this time, we only saw Mama’s family occasionally, after the divorce it was the total opposite.
The Thurston family consisted of my cousins Kaye, Ken, Aunt Ellen (Mama’s sister), and Uncle Kent (who took me dove hunting). Nonna, my Grandmama on my Mama’s side, lived in the same town of Whiteville. So, with Ken being about my age and Mama wanting to connect with her Mama and family, we went to Whiteville a lot. I give you all this background to explain that my Uncle Kent started including me in things that he did with his son Ken…family taking care of family.
One time, they ask me if I wanted to go Duck hunting with them, and of course, I said YES. I knew a little more about Ducks and Geese than I did Doves at the time, so it was all good. They picked me up in Greenville and said were we going to go to Lake Mattamuskeet. This is the largest natural lake in North Carolina. It is a shallow coastal lake, averaging 2–3 ft feet in depth, and stretches 18 miles long and 7 miles wide. Lake Mattamuskeet lies on the Albemarle-Pamlico Peninsula.
This was a real treat for me because I had never done anything like this. They picked me up and we headed out to what ended up being a Duck Hunting Guide operation. They fixed our meals, gave us cabins right on the Lake to sleep in, cleaned our birds when we got back, sent a guide and his dog with us out to the Duck blind…it was First Class all the way and I was along for the ride.
On the way down to the Lake, Uncle Kent stopped at a gas station, but he didn’t pull in to get gas, which I thought was strange. But then we went around back and there was a little shack serving up oysters. Now, picture this…you go through the door and there is a sawdust/dirt floor, low lighting, a bar with bar stools, and a guy behind the bar steaming and shucking oysters. Oysters and beer…that was the menu. Full peck or a half peck, a peck can vary from 24 to 26 oysters, and they come in a pail. The guy behind the bar shucked them right in front of you. You could get them steamed or raw, I forget what Uncle Kent ordered. I don’t think Ken and I were interested at the time, but if I were there today…load me up.
Now if you’ve never eaten raw oysters…let’s just say it’s an acquired taste. The color and texture can’t really be described without being a bit gross, so some people just swallow them whole. But steamed oysters…there is nothing like it, goooood, as they say. Kent finished his oysters, and we went on to the camp.
Ken and I listened to a Carolina Basketball game on the radio before we went to sleep…a lot of the McIntyre family were University of North Carolina graduates and later my cousin Ken would go there.
They got us up very early, fed us, packed a lunch and then we were taken out on the Lake. It’s been well over 50 years since that day, but I can still see it in my mind. We were in a small boat, just the 3 of us, a guide and his dog. The guide was a burley man, rough around the edges, as they say, with maybe a few teeth missing. As we pulled out, he was sitting in the back by the outboard motor driving the boat and he reached down into the water, scooped a handful, and slashed it all over his face, I guess to wake up or feel more alive, not sure which.
Picture this massive Lake, the sun just coming up on the horizon, and literally thousands of Ducks, Geese, and other waterfowl flying around everywhere. It was breathtaking, being on the water in freezing temperatures may have added to the breathless state I was feeling, but that’s Duck hunting…the worst the weather, the better the hunt.
We reached out blind, got set up while the guide put out decoys, and got ready. My feet were already frozen, but I wasn’t about to complain. The guide used his Duck call and by the end of the day, we had several kills, which the poor dog had to jump in the icy water and retrieve, but he didn’t seem to mind. We took the boat back at the end of the day and they dressed out our Ducks and we headed back to Greenville.
This was one of the first times I had ever seen a father and son do things together that was fun and while that may have been normal for most people, it was a unique experience for me and one that I appreciated deeply.
Recent Comments