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Raccoon and Eggs

What do raccoon and eggs have enough in common to headline my latest Lowcountry pontification you might ask.....Well....putting all political and culinary correctness aside "They Taste Damn Good Together"!

 EEEEHHHGADDS!!!!! some of my faithful literary followers might proclaim....we know times are tough these days  but substituting Jimmy Dean's pork sausage  with raccoon at the breakfast table..."Poor Mary"....old LCJoe has finally lost it. Well "loosing it" in whatever form one might consider at the robust age of almost sixty six (66) is all together possible. But believe me, when it comes to consuming the "masked bandit" I have complete awareness and control of all on my senses.

May I regress....Many a fond moment were spent many moons ago at my Aunt Nellie's dinner table on the family farm and believe me, I never once left hungry. We raised the finest of black angus steers, prime corn fed hogs and the healthiest of true free range chickens. I know that its hard to believe that eating juicy t-bone steaks each day gets old, but it does,  so Aunt Nellie, true to form, would always "surprise us" with a fine delicacy. A lot of these last minute treats were passionately cooked cow and pig "parts" the Travel  Channel's  "Anthony Bourdain/No Reservations" would savor. But the real treat came in the form of a masked bandit that made the tragic mistake of noisily overturning my Aunt's garbage pail at 3 AM. She  had a great "eye" coupled for a fondness for deep sleep and the sound of a twelve gauge shotgun reverberating over the serenely quiet Pennsylvania rolling meadows announced to all that raccoon was on tomorrow's menu.  

As I now fast forward....I am spending a fine Summer afternoon "porch sittin" at the Silver Dew Winery with my dear "local" friend Freddie when the subject of consuming Daufuskie critters came up. We chatted about how our relatives prepared squirrel to die for and excitedly talked over each other about how we were brought up on and developed a fine taste for raccoon. The conversation spread from fur to feather with a deep appreciation of each others unlikely common culinary delights. It was enough to break out my trusty twelve gage and head for the woods.  "True hunters", however,  know that a long hard freeze is always mandatory and our fantasizing taste buds would have to wait.

Months passed and "da 2010 freeze it did come". The arctic blast came with a vengeance wiping out pesky bugs of all sorts, completely freezing over my never frozen  1/3 acre pond for days on end , thrilling Palmetto Electric to distraction  and bringing my parka clad Friend Freddie to my door.  Invited in, he grinned from ear to ear and from a brown paper bag presented a package securely wrapped in sturdy tin foil. The masked bandit from my childhood had arrived and was once again about to be savored and consumed.

So there you have it and "NO" my Bride Mary did not partake of or encourage my fine feast. But when she did ask me what the masked bandit tasted like I smiled and blurted  RACCOON....No...Not Chicken.

The freshness of morn....

"Rain pattered all night on the Lighthouses's tin roof as I lay in bed laced in dreams of life. The dawn comes and the freshness that can only be experienced by Mother Natures sensuous delights blesses my soul. The sky is dark but there is a renewed spirit in my life as I walk in the crispness of morn into another day of solace on the mystical Isle of Fuskie".

I penned the above note for my days website pontification one fine March morning in 2012. I felt compelled to wright it...dig deep into my inner self and express what seemed to be one of the most glorious mornings of my life. I was swept to the muddy sand roads of Daufuskie and with a renewed spring in my step pressed on into dawns light. I really don't know why the breaking of this particular day felt so good. Surely I have experienced mornings somewhat like this before in my sixty seven years. But it was that special essence in the air that drove my passions. The air entering my nose and arousing my senses acted like a splendid elixir that awakened thoughts, dreams and passions of days gone by. It reminded me of Fall Pennsylvania days when leaves had fallen leaving a smell that till this day I would be hard fought to describe. But it was there....this coolness in the nose, the lack of pollution of any kind, graced and prepared for me and all that would venture out. And then for some strange reason I though of persons who smoked.... Who would take this special fresh blessing and with lighter in hand begin a process of fouling the air, desecrating the lungs and leading one to an untimely demise.

The walk through that morn ends but I thank God for giving me that special gift. I think of the oaks that have lived over hundreds of years and have taken this oxygen of life in days like today to nurture root and branch. I think of the birds that float gracefully in pristine winds. And I think about how much I love life and days like these that have been prepared by the creator for all that have the understanding to endure. 

 

Edgar Allen Poe and Daufuskie

One would never expect Edgar Allen Poe's short story "The Gold Bug" to bring ones minds image to Daufuskie Island. But that is what influenced renowned writer Terin Miller to pontificate in a recent North Baltimore Path opinion article. It seems that Mr. Miller visited Daufuskie in the early days when loblollys and live oaks were being felled in the name of development and progress.

The darkness that can be felt while traversing Daufuskie's oak canopied Spanish moss laden live oaks
reminded him of Poe's writings on nearby Sullivan's Island where darkness, secret messages and buried treasure prevailed. A boat was missed and Mr. Miller and a photographer found themselves surrounded by a group of Fuskie youths that he submits "Their intention was clearly not to discuss our story, or our political views". He recalls that very seldom did he feel threatened as a reporter but this was one of those times. The local Reverend at the time came to the rescue and watched over, scolded the kids and gave them comfort that night on the front pews of the First African Baptist Church.

As a Fuskie "Local" I have heard many stories of days gone by. Walter Cronkite's visit to the Bloody Point Lighthouse Bed and Breakfast  was one of them. This famous  American Broadcast journalist, that reported on the Nuremberg Trials and flew gliders into the Battle of the Bulge met his match when supposedly he was confronted by the Lighthouse's giant bats and made hasty leave. But this story that comes from the heart of Mr. Miller hit a special chord in my psyche. In my early days on Fuskie I too felt threatened at times and not until purchasing the Bloody Point Lighthouse and finally being a "local" did I feel at ease with my surroundings. Daufuskie back then was lawless, Beaufort Count Sherrifs were non  existant and "an eye for and eye and a tooth for a tooth" was the untold law.

That being said, I now leave a kind note for Mr. Miller to once again visit the magical mystical Island of Daufuskie as my guest. Edgar Allen Poe once quoted " Deep in that darkness,  long I stood there, wondering, fearing doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dare to dream before". I attempt to erase that long kept Daufuskie fear that Mr. Miller could never release from his psyche. He quoted  "Dirt paths cut into the foliage by government road graders. They turned to mud in a rain, and survived under a canopy in the sun and heat by virtue of shade, which, even on a night of the brightest full moon, hid the sky and the promise of heaven". These same Fuskie roads now offer a new life and a new beginning to all that will welcome the fate of being exposed. Government graders still manicure and shape dirt roads and the sandy mud dries under the heat of long Summer days. The Island has been reborn and the moon that reflects over ocean and palm, works on ones eternal soul drawing us closer to the mortal end. Yes please come visit Mr. Miller and we will stand in that darkness together and listen intently for the faint boom of long lost Voodoo drums and think of Poe.

Joe Yocius

Link to Baltimore Path Article

http://northbaltimore.patch.com/articles/a-singular-island-poe-and-the-darkness#comments_list

Link to Terin Miller Biography

http://redroom.com/member/terin-miller/bio

Tai Chi at Daufuskie Island

Was brought into this new found morning by the gentle coo of a dove. Sunlight bursts through the Lighthouse's wavy glass panes and I make my way to the front porch for meditation and Tai Chi. There is special energy in the Bloody Point air that I cant seem to touch .... but as I reach a "new plateau" a feeling of comforting solace permeates my soul.

Daufuskie Island Posies

I fight a brisk gale as I make my way through the confines of Bloody Point. Sprinkles dot my sunglasses and a light sweat permeates my Silver Dew Winery T-Shirt. Its 70+ degrees and even though it is Winter, Spring is in the air. But like the brightness of a Summer's day there before me is a yellow posie. Picked unceremoniously from its branch it will be a morning present for my lovely Bride, Mary. 

Sleepin' with Daufuskie Island Hoot Owls

Tuesday January 24, 2012

Snuggled under the covers last night and listened to the hoot owls and container ship fog horns playing in unison. Woke up to birdies chirping their little hearts out in Spring like temperatures. Soon Papy's posies will be showing their little heads. As a fresh breeze blows from the South I thank God for the opportunity to experience all that is Bloody Point on magical, mystical  Daufuskie Island

 

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