Coo coo catchoo...

We eat a lot of eggs… really. We buy our eggs from some folks here in town. We have ,at a minimum, two eggs every morning and then if I bake anything or if any recipe calls for them we can go through a dozen fast.

When we were staying at Jerry’s house I was the head chef and bottle washer and since it was me cooking I made a big breakfast every morning. That made us go through the eggs even faster. With three of us that was six eggs a morning or 1/2 dozen a day for those of you who know how to count eggs. If possible we would get 4-5 dozen at a time. The folks we got eh eggs from wondered what in the heck we did with all the eggs. Even though I am sure they love their chickens and their own eggs, they must not have been big breakfast eaters. Or maybe they are *gasp* cereal eaters, not that I am opposed to a good bowl of Captain Crunch or Count Chocula now and then.



but I would much rather see this in front of me in the morning...

Look at the avocado. Just ignore that weeping sound.

Anyway, the eggs we get are real eggs right out of free ranging yooper chickens. The prices range from $2 to $2.50 a dozen. (Go look at the eggs in your local co-op and tell me that is not a deal!) We have two connections for these eggs and as it turns out they are father/son of each other. The son and his family lived a bit closer to us while we were at Jerry’s so at first we went there for our eggs. However, it seemed that when we got eggs from the son we learned the hard way that he mostly leaves his egg collection up to his young teenage sons. Now, young teenaged sons frequently are busy with other things and have their minds elsewhere… so every once in awhile when we would get the eggs there, the eggs had been out in the yard for a few days longer than necessary.

You see when free ranging real chicken eggs have been sitting around awhile.. or shall I say being sat upon for awhile... what happens is that you crack them into your pan or bowl and they are a bit closer to a chick than a yolk than most people prefer. So instead we have started getting them from the father… who is actually the Grandfather of those same young teen boys. This has been a pretty good change as I have yet to have eyes staring back out of me from a puddle of yellow in the frying pan.

Hah. That was gross and a bit of an exaggeration …
sorta…
but you will think about it the next time you crack an egg… I guarantee!

David was helping his Dad out over by the hotel on main street the other day and one of the teen boys was lending a hand as well. They were working away on something and the boy glanced down the road and says to David , “oh geez… there is that egg lady! She comes to our house like every day and gets a whole bunch of eggs!” David chuckled to himself and thought he was going to get a bit of local gossip. He thought, "well I am going to have to check this out and see who this lady is." He looked down the road to see what car the boy was referring to and well… it was me.

David laughed and said “um… Oh… ya know who that is? That's my wife.” They laughed and the boy was kind of embarrassed but not as embarrassed as I was later when David told me the story.

I AM THE EGGLADY... Coo coo catchoo!

Anyway, this particular family I have been talking about has been in this area for a long time. They are one of those families here that you realize is related and intermarried with many other families here in town. The men are all hunters. In fact, one of those teenage boys I mentioned, while he is a slow egg gatherer he is quick enough to have actually gotten his first bear this year and was the talk of the town.

Anyhoo, that was quite a build up but hang on because I am not done quite yet. Another thing you should know is that yoopers are yoopers and they are not at all embarrassed about any choice of dress they may have... or much else for that matter.

They dress and live in a style that is for the most part, strictly utilitarian and that suits me fine. However, at any time of the day, you may be driving along or stopping to visit a neighbor and he/she may be in their underwear… long or short… robe, pajamas, whatever. No one seems to be embarrassed, no one rushes to cover up. Heck, you can be driving along down the road and look over towards a house and in the picture window might be the man of the house, standing in full view from the road, in his tightie whities and cup of coffee in hand. He won't hide... he'll just wave and take another sip of coffee.

So, I go to get my precious eggs and the fella was (at least) in his sweatpants... no shirt, no shoes, whiskers and white hair all wild in the wind, and he was smoking like a chimney stack. (I should mention another thing that seems to run in this family is that as they get a little older their hearing is not what is used to be. So this was a rather noisy encounter. ) He waives me in, hollers that he has a couple dozen eggs for me, and wants to show me his recent kills. So, I follow him into the house chatting loudly. As I walk through the door, immediately on my right is a fresh coyote pelt… not quite this fresh...

but fresh enough because being rather observant I noted it still had red blood on its ears and not dried brown blood. Then I quickly scanned the room and saw there were various stuffed animals of one kind or another all around the room. A bit like Norman Bates’ waiting room at the hotel…


yes... THAT hotel. Anyway, there was a badger up on top of a file cabinet, a set of weasels with their white winter coats forever frozen in a mock play scene on top of a bookcase… birds of various kinds… and of course the obligatory deer heads on the wall. I should mention that this fellow really does have quite a reputation as a good trapper and has taught his grandsons as well (the bear hunting teen mentioned earlier). Well, we got to talking about the weasels… apparently he trapped one the other day. He told me that out in the wild, and during the right time you can trap weasels when they are wearing their white winter coats.

However, he said the one he just got was still brown. It was going after his chickens.


I know I know.. they are cute but they really are quite ferocious
and I WILL fight them for the eggs.

He pointed to the two white weasels up on the bookcase while he was talking at which time I turned my head again to look at them. While my head was turned he moved to the freezer, pulled out a bag, and before I really had a chance to think about it slid a frozen brown weaselsicle out of the bag directly into my hands.

Oh dear.

I played it off, looked the weaselsicle over real good... let him know I was pretty impressed with both his weasel and the coyote... and asked a few questions about the dens we keep finding. From my description he thinks they may be badgers. I believe I will take his word for it.

I like this next picture.

P.S.
This has turned out to be a long post. Look what I found when I looked out the window this morning:


Actually, I lie. I found it much earlier than this morning. I was up around midnight and even though there was no moon you could look out our windows and see the snow in the trees, and a silhouette of deer feeding down at the molasses block we have by the woodpile. I watched them for a few minutes before I went back to bed.

Oh deer.

Along with preparing for winter, and actually I guess hand in hand with that, folks have been getting ready for deer hunting season around here. Actually, there has been a hunting season of one kind or another going on for what seems like a long time.

There is bear season, which is broken down into all crazy kind of ways like.. bear season for 12 year old males with bows only, then bear season with baiting, bear season with dogs but not for 9 year olds with guns, and bear season for only men and women wearing green flannel shirts.


For about a month during bear hunting season with dogs there were some hunters staying next door at the ‘white cabin’ with their hunting dogs. The dogs were fine but everyonce in awhile they would bay... I guess that is what you would call it. But it was not the typical bloodhound sounding kind of bay, instead it is an unearthly hound of the Baskervilles kind of sound. Would scare the tar out of anyone coming through the moors in the middle of the night.

Umm.. that is not a bear hound... I am not sure what the hell that is.
This below is a bear hound.. called a Plott Hound apparently they are good bear hunters. They use them to tree the bears so hunters then wander up and shoot them out of the trees.


Well, Cosmo and Delta took delight in the whole situation. They would chase squirrels over close to where those dogs were penned and dance around in front of them teasing them. After all, they were roaming around free and can hunt squirrels all they want!

The bear dogs were like…. Whatever. Just undo this cage door and we will show you what we can do.

Now deer season is nearly upon us and it seems that there are many more deer hunters than bear hunters. All of these old deer camps that you find here and there in the woods... the ones you thought were deserted all of a sudden come to life. The doors and windows are open, the bar-b-ques are going, beer cases laying around (Pabst) , and there are a bunch of men, trucks, and neon orange accessories of one kind or another.

Oh.. and don't forget the various hunter's toys:

Deer season is also broken down into guns, bows, ages, days, times, baited or non-baited.. I dunno… all I know is that once it really starts you have to stay off the atv trails until the season is over. No scaring away the deer… and no getting shot that way. It’s a good thing.

Men even grow beards and even if their work has a policy about shaving and looking scruff… apparently that is suspended during hunting season. Hmmm… must be some kinda cave man issue. Hairy hunters.


David is going to get his license this year and most folks we know are setting up their deer blinds and getting all ready. I have been invited to join in and have just not been real clear about my answer yet… I will eventually be letting folks know that I really don’t have any desire to go hunting.

Don’t get me wrong, I will eat deer and I have even help butcher a little bit before, but I will pass on the hunting part. Don’t get me wrong, I sure could shoot a deer if I had to but the thing is… I don’t have to.

If I was hungry, had no money, and needed to kill a deer or rabbit or whatever to eat I would. Plain and simple. But I am not in that situation, and frankly... I could eat beans and rice and do just fine. However, David wants to get at least one this year and put it in the freezer and that is okey dokey. I have no problem with hunting if you plan on eating what you kill, and eat it we will. I have some pretty good recipes that we will be trying out.

But given the choice and if hunger is not a factor then I prefer to see my venison like this (you may remember the first one from an earlier posting, click on the picture to remind yourself if you want):



than like this:
... of course I really do love this though:


and ... hmmm.. this looks good too:


Anyway, David, the dogs, and I went out and scouted around in a place where David might do some hunting.


We had tried to take the scooters back there during spring and summer but when we first tried there was:

1. So many maples and baby maples it was hard following and or even finding the path, and
2. Because we were going slow the mosquitos found me and were having such a feast on my flesh that I turned back and went home. Seriously. It was during mosquito season.

Anyway… we were able to walk through that area easily now that all the leaves are down and it really is a very pretty area now that it is all visible.

This country is filled with rolling hills and hidden rock formations. You just don't know that until fall and winter because it is so densely forested. Delta and Cosmo loved the walk of course.

We found a whole little section where there was handfuls of burrows… or dens. I don’t think it was a badger village or anything because I think they are more solitary creatures but I don't know what else would live like that. There were a few active burrows or dens and then a bunch that were not active this year. I think foxes are more solitary critters too but I looked up info on coyotes and apparently not only do they live in dens but they usually have a few nearby for backup in case their main one is compromised and they have to move the pups.


Anyway, I am kind of suspicious that they were older coyote dens because Cosmo who thinks he is a tough guy went halfway down into one (I had visions of badger terror and flipped the snap on my holster) but he sniffed around real good, and then peed on the outside of the burrow.

TAKE THAT! He said emphatically.
Scratch Scratch scratch hop hop hop.

Geez. Maybe he should grown a beard.