Wild Varden

Fall is my second favorite season. Leaves are turning orange, yellow, brown, and all shades of reddish orange. The more they fall, the closer old man winter approaches. Cooler weather means hunting in Alabama.

When asked do I hunt and fish, I say that I am not a hunter. The are shocked. Most of the time I converse with those that do like I do hunt. Not that I lie. Here is what happens. One time I headed to our farm at Sugar Ridge in Jemison, Alabama from Linden for the purpose of cutting grass and weed eating.

I stopped in the College Town of Marion at the Chinese Restaurant for dinner (noontime in Alabama). I wore a pair of Turkey Federation camouflaged Liberty overalls that had purchased at Wall Mart. They were on sale, left over from the hunting season. They were not thick and heavy like the denim ones, and they were 4X and were comfortable. I loved them and wore them to where my wife Lisa could nor repair. I wore them in the restaurant.

It was turkey season, and some hunters were enjoying Chinese as I was. I asked them if they had good luck that morning. They told they had not. They asked how I did. I replied that I had not seen any turkeys. The said too windy for them. I agreed with them and as they asked questions I answered. My answers were truthful, but I had not hunted. They assumed I had.

Again, when asked if I hunt and fish, I say I’m not a hunter and fisherman, but a killer and catcher. We raised pigs, chickens, and beef cows. At an early age daddy appointed me the task of killing them for slaughter. I tell hunters that want to belittle my hunting that I have killed more meat than they have. That usually ends the conversation.

I did hunt in my youthful years. Dad gave me a 410 shotgun when I was twelve. I hunted quail, doves, squirrels, and rabbits with my trusty 410. I still use it to kill varmints any thing else that needs it.

One cold and sleety day after school I decide to go squirrel hunting where momma could cook squirrel stew and dumplings. I crossed the electric fence that corralled the pigs and headed to the woods. Our bore hog, affectionally named Varden for daddy’s co-worker that sold Varden to us, decided to go with me. Varden was almost a pet, but the older he got the ornerier he got. He was black with white strip and had some very long and sharp tusks.

I waved him back. I heard him again getting closer. He was smacking his lips together and white foam sprayed toward me. This time I broke off the top of a small pine tree and ran him back to spend time with the sows. I took a few more steps and here he came again only faster. I did not to turn my back to him, so I reached behind me to break another pine top.

I stumbled and fell on my back. Varden lunged at me and tried his best to use his long tusks to rip out my guts. His white slobber raked across my jacket. I threw up my feet and 410 and pushed him. When he cleared the barrel, I unloaded the squirrel shot into his left shoulder.

I had one shot, but it was effective. He ran limping back toward the barn. I was scared and the adrenaline was sky high. That was the only this 125-pound boy pushed 300-pound Varden away for the shot. If I missed, I was dead.

I did not go squirrel hunting after that. I called daddy at his work. He was on second shift. I said, “Daddy I had to shoot Varden. He ain’t dead, but he has a shoulder full of squirrel shot.”  Daddy asked me if I was okay and told him I was.

Varden limped for a while. That did not tame him, but we did our first dental work removing Varden’s tusks and removing his manhood he was gentler. Months later I had the pleasure of shooting Varden. We slaughtered him and momma made some great sausage. The left Boston Butt was full of squirrel shot that we surgically removed before processing. Each time I hold my 410, I think of almost being devoured by the beast that we named Varden. I think of it each time I read I Peter 5:8 in the KJV version of the Bible.

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour:

 

 

 

Hogs and Hoppers

Discussions while sitting around a dinner table after a funeral can be very interesting.  The funeral was for Raymond, a former minister of music of at the church I pastored in Clanton.  He became a mentor to me for the five years we served together.  It was an honor to participate in his funeral and comfort the family and friends.

Sharing memories together at the table, the conversation quickly turned to the aches and pains of growing old.  We talked of knee pains and replacements.  One nephew-in-law talked of his foot stress and early retirement.  There was talk of all the medicines, which most of us could not pronounce.  A nephew said he had heart trouble and that his doctors wanted to know what medicines his cardiologist prescribed.  He said he did not have a cardiologist and did not take any medicines.

The nephew said that he was born with the defect and had a valve from a pig implanted to replace his defective valve.  I asked since the transplant did he have a craving for corn.  I can be a smart aleck at times.  He joked back and said he had told his son that he craved corn and could no longer eat pork.

Someone asked him if the cardiologist told him not to eat the pork.  The nephew said, “No, now that I had a pig valve, it is hard to eat my fellow pigs’ flesh.”  This was ironic since the church was serving the family pork barbecue.  Yes, he was eating his fellow pigs.

Pork is a main staple in the South, especially during Independence Day activities.  My brother is cooking a whole hog for a community gathering July 1-2.  He said he was starting at midnight and cooking the hog all night.

It is going to be a fun filled weekend.  My brothers and I are the main attraction for the community event.  Originally, it was called the Hopper Brothers Reunion, because all three of us serve outside Chilton County and our home church wanted us to return to share our talents.  We sing, play musical instruments, write songs, and generally have a lot of fun together.

There will be the hog, chicken quarters, and all the fixin’s.  There will be singing, playing, cousins, friends, and games Saturday from three in the afternoon until who knows when.  The pastor there said he had “blowup” slides for the kids.  It is an outside event at a friend’s farm.  Plan B will utilize my home church’s Family Life Center.  With all the rain, Plan B may be a reality.  Sunday, The Hopper Trio will be leading in Worship.  It is a “you all” come event.

When I think about hogs, I am reminded the story of Jesus and the swine.

So the devils besought him (Jesus), saying, If thou cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of swine.  And he said unto them, Go. And when they were come out, they went into the herd of swine: and, behold, the whole herd of swine ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the waters.  And they that kept them fled, and went their ways into the city, and told every thing, and what was befallen to the possessed of the devils. And, behold, the whole city came out to meet Jesus: and when they saw him, they besought him that he would depart out of their coasts (Matthew 8:31-34 KJV).

This was the invention of “deviled ham” and it brings back memories of my days as a contract negotiator.  Businessmen more concerned with profit than with the souls of people, asked Jesus to leave.  I experienced something similar. 

I was involved in a toxic waste issue at the cement plant in Calera.  Our local union supported a community group that was protesting the burning of toxic waste in the cement kilns.  The men in the plant were concerned with the waste being to dangerous to handle and process.  This community group made the Chamber of Commerce for the city of Pelham very uncomfortable.  They we so upset that members of the Chamber and a delegation of business men approached me and tried to convince me to back the union off because it was causing no small stir when trying to bring new businesses into Shelby County.  They had very strong, threating language for me.

I looked this group of professionals dead into the eye and said, “The lives of the men and women in the plant and people and the communities in which they live are more important that making millions of dollars especially when businesses do more to harm than to help.  The lives of people are more important than immoral monies.”

This last time I read the Bible, which is daily; Jesus is more concerned with the souls of people than sales and profit.

As we celebrated Independence Day in days of COVID 19, let us remember that men and women sacrificed and died for our freedom and the establishment of a moral society and government.  Pray for those entities that would misuse freedom to destroy lives for gain.  Pray that our churches to find those that sin has bound and share the freedom of Jesus in His redemptive blood and give hope.