Papa was a blacksmith, knew how to work iron for horse shoes and repair work. He tells that two blacksmiths died and went to hell--one for working on credit; the other one for beating on cold iron. Keep that forge going and the iron hot!
Papa and Mack both worked at times with Mr. Henry West in his grist mill and blacksmith shop at the junction of Harts Bridge Road and the Chester Levee Road. When Mr. West encountered a horse or mule that was most difficult to hold and put shoes on, he would call for Ulrich Watlington to come help him. Papa had the experience with horses and mules that made him able to shoe the roughest and toughest, and Papa was a small man, often not weighing a hundred and fifty pounds. He was strong and knowledgeable concerning livestock. He knew how to make a ``nose-wringer'' out of the curve of an old plow handle and a piece of rope that would make a mule get down on its knees and beg you to ease up. When the nose hurt enough the mule didn't worry about the foot being worked on.
The Jackson Companies L and M of the 117th Infantry Regiment prepared a rifle and machine gun practice range on Mr. J. W. (Billie) Hamlett's land near our farm. The old ammunition that they used often did not fire and was discarded. John, Paul and Herman learned to open these unexploded cartridges, save the powder and use the powder to burn. Then the empty cartridge could be discharged with a nail and hammer for ``fireworks.'' Once John wanted better fire works so left some powder in a .30 caliber shell and it really tore up his hand.
``The best breed of hogs is a full corn crib.''
``The best time to mark the feeder pigs is when your knife is sharp.'' Before the ``no fence law'' of about 1910 in Madison Co., Tenn., you clipped notches on a certain part of the ears of the young pigs to ``brand them'' as belonging to your family.
You also took the testicles off the young male hogs to produce better meat quicker, and avoid overbreeding. These pig testicles were relished as a tasty reward for the task of ``marking the pigs.'' They were, and still are, called ``Mountain Oysters.'' This practice of sterilizing the male pigs was still called ``marking the pigs'' long after all hogs were fenced and therefore did not need to be marked for identification.
``You can't keep a good bull in a two-wire fence.'' Your breeding stock, bull, stud horse or jackass needed a fence worthy of their quality.
When the weather was dry, and the temperature in the nineties, it was a ``good day to kill some grass.'' When the freezing cold came it was ``good bug-killing weather.''
Papa wanted to keep a ``blue racer'' snake near the barn to help eliminate the mice and rats. These snakes frightened the children and were often seen in unexpected places but the boys had better not kill one of them. They could enter among the hay and corn and catch rats even in their holes in the ground. ``Barn cats'' were equally valuable, as were rat-terrier dogs. Dogs would catch moles in the garden also. In these things he was aware of some ecological principles.
But hawks were baby chicken snatchers and we were free to hunt them. Buzzards were recognized as scavengers that were useful. There were ``chicken snakes'' that would rob eggs from a nest and eat small chickens also; thus they were to be eliminated. And on our farm we also had a few ``moccasin'' snakes which were poisonous, but not many. Sam S. Watlington, Sr., is reported to have been bitten by a water moccasin snake that was not poisonous.
We all hunted rabbits, opossums, raccoons, quail, and other game for food. Jennie Watlington knew how to make a fat roasted opossum into a delicious dish with sweet potatoes. But we grew our own meat, chickens, hogs, and one or two beef calves each winter. When a beef was killed you planned to ``swap-out'' with neighbors so that no meat would spoil. Then as they killed a beef, you would have fresh meat again for a week. Without refrigeration beef was difficult to keep. Hog meat could be smoked and salted to keep all year long. Chickens were very adaptable because they were always ready to be sacrificed for a special meal. No refrigeration was needed because nothing was left over.
Hunting rabbits could be great fun, even without a gun if you had some good dogs. With two or three dogs and two or three boys you could literally ``run a rabbit to death.'' Poly Murchison, a neighbor, was an artist at such rabbit hunting with a slender hickory stick. He could tell which way a rabbit would turn to try to escape the dogs, and therefore wait to ambush the rabbit--but then the dogs caught some of them too.
O. W. Hammond had a hill top ``early garden'' on the hill where Mack and Golden built their home in the 1940's. Being a Pentecostal Methodist, he was ever thankful for the good and the bad, in that he saw God's hand in every event of life. In his morning prayers the young Ulrich A. Watlington heard him thanking God for the spring rains, and asking God for more ``showers of blessings.'' It was already so wet the flat land could not be plowed, and some land was flooding, and Orson W. was asking for more ``showers of blessing'' for his hill side vegetable garden. Ulrich remarked that he had never been so thankful for a just and merciful God, one who could respond to the needs of the many and not just the few. ``I thank you, Lord, that you are a just God.''
| Oh, the Lord's been good to me, |
| Oh, the Lord's been good to me; |
| And I thank you, Lord, for the things I need, |
| for the sun, and the rain and the apple seed, |
| The Lord's been good to me. |
-- the ``Johnny Appleseed'' song
This song isn't fully understood by the supermarket generation. But the first five generations of Watlingtons in West Tennessee pretty well understood that all of God's blessings were not grown, cooked, preserved and prepackaged for their convenience.
``You don't ride a sore-back horse.'' Even horses need some care and respect.
``You don't eat the seed corn (or potatoes, or peas).'' Seed from one crop needs to be saved even if you are hungry, for a crop next year. Saving your seed is the first law of being an agriculturist civilization. Those who don't learn to save don't survive. Could this still be true in urban civilization?
By their fruits you shall know them.
-- Luke 6:43-44
Trees are known by their fruits, but one who lives close to nature learns that trees may be known by their shape, their odor, their taste, their leaves and flowers. Ulrich Watlington would chew a leaf, or a twig of a tree to help identify it. He knew the trees and plants for their usefulness. He knew how to use slippery elm bark for a rope when he didn't have a rope. He could do the same with the bark of young willow trees, or the bark of the roots of those trees. Sassafras trees offered a tasty tea if the roots were dug in the early spring. Ash was straight and strong for ax handles and spokes of a wheel. Catalpa, chestnut and post oak were good for fence posts. Cypress were excellent for outside walls, and wooden curbs for bored wells. Cedar made a good water bucket; white oak was preferred for whisky barrels. Different trees and plants were cared for and appreciated for the special merits that each had.
Ulrich Watlington had very little formal education, and his wife Jennie had to teach him to read and write again after they married. As a young school boy learning to write and spell I would often ask him to spell a word I heard him use. Getting to the end of both his knowledge and his patience one day he told me very firmly but kindly, ``Son, there are some words that you don't spell; you only say them.''
Since then I have appreciated the fact that in English and in Spanish there is a written language and there is a colloquial language and at times the two never really meet. That is why Jerry Clower is better on magnetic tape than in the printed word.
Fernando Sierra, from Chosica, Perú, was taking a boat ride with the family in a small aluminum boat with a good forty-five horsepower outboard motor on it. Fernando had a college degree and CPA rating in Perú, but was not oriented to the recreational life of Tennesseans. After a few rides they gave him an opportunity to operate the motor and guide the boat. But as they had circled the lake and were returning to the bank where they had started he asked innocently, ``How do you STOPE IT?'' But he asked too late, because the boat did not have air brakes. It struck the bank and ran the front end high and sank the rear end, motor and all, still running.
Hence, when more instructions are needed, we laugh and ask ``How do you stope it?'' No one was seriously injured, but there was a costly repair job on a very good motor.
Addie Elkins King's father, Jim Elkins, was a farmer but he made more money from whiskey than was made on his farm. He furnished a horse and buggy so Addie, Loubelle and the two boys could go to school in town, Buena Vista, rather than to the country school. Addie and Loubelle didn't want their step brother to inherit anything from the estate so nearly all the money was spent on lawyer fees.
The youngest son, Leland King, took care of his mother and father, W. B. King and Harriet Gardner King, so he was given their homeplace. W. B. King had a cancer removed from his nose so there was a big hole where his nose should have been. He always took his spittoon to church with him--if he forgot it he would spit out the window.
Largee King, Paul's father, had many different jobs but didn't stick to any one for very long at the time. He was proud that he helped build a long bridge in Carroll County. Steve King, his grandson, has the cross cut saw that was used to cut the timber for the bridge.
-- Paul King