PAGE TWO
N
THE POST, FRIDAY, SEPTE
ye
.
BER 14, 1951
a community institution”
Al, Himself
8 Gin, Yur Know Your Neighbor THE DALLAS POST YOU KNOW ME - | Tr
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POY, Barnyard Notes
By William J. Robbins Jr.
One of the most dependable
sources of food for the Indian of
the Susquehanna ‘valleys and
neighboring tributaries, and later
the early white settlers, was the
natural phenomenon “Shad Run,”
prior to spawning season.
The Indian was quite adept in
his method of trapping shad, and
each tribe would lend a helping
hand in grape vine net weaving
for placement in the river several
weeks before this great fish migra-
tion.
When sections were woven to-
gether the net would be secured
to the bank on the upperside of a
creek mouth and stretched diagon-
ally across the steam. The shad
reaching the net would turn into
‘the creek and when this smaller
tributary became so filled with fish
that they could no longer move,
the net would be swung to the
lower side and closed as a gate.
This type of trapping at the
mouth of Toby's creek was the
reason lower Kingston, or what
was once called Westmore, bore
the nomenclature “Fish Island”.
The shad runs were so great that
this particular creek as far up as
what is now Dallas would be ‘solid
with fish. It was no problem to
mugg what was needed for food
and the preserving method was
either to sun. or smoke dry this
flesh food. Thousands of fish did
die, and tales are to the effect
that the odor of decomposed shad
could be detected for miles around
and would remain until high water
cleaned off the banks.
Cured fish was a welcome sup-
plement to the menu of the Indian
for deer, bear, and other game
that we of this age hunt, was not
too plentiful. This same condition
of game shortage also confronted
the early white settlers, and they
were quick to learn the ways of
preservation of the only food that
could be considered bountiful.
There was no alternative but
to use fish as the main course for
the big meal of the winter months,
which was always served in the
evening. Such a diet would be
most insipid to us, who have so
taste desires; however a change in
flavor could be obtained by the ad-
dition of ground nut or corn meal.
Some sixty years ago my Grand-
father netted shad in the) river
| along the rocks, near where the
Gas House now stands.
loads were huckstered from the
canal basin where the Court House
now stands and people that lived
in the vicinity of the canal that
crossed the city where the Laurel
Line travels, depended on this fish
peddler to sell them Buck Shad for
10 cents, and Roe Shad for 15
cents.
joy angling and the flavor. of this
most delectable of game fish if the
Commission in Harrisburg would
spend some money on fish ladder
research at Safe Harbor.
Dollars have been spent need-
lessly on surveys such as the one
at Harveys Lake, that gives the
fisherman nothing in return, and
the crux of this disheartening con-
dition is that I and many others
know such waste will continue;
that absolutely nothing is being
done to remedy the ills that con-
front all fishermen; that so called
Big Problems could be eliminated
if such was the desire of those in
charge.
Information on fish ladders is
obtainable from most any north-
western State, without cost to the
Commission of our State. The shad
still approach the Safe Harbor
Dam but are attracted to the
swifter waters of the turbine out-
lets, and this is, so say the mem-
bers of the Fish Commission, a
major problem. .
First Fall Flock Of
Wild Geese Flies South
First fall flock of wild geese fly-
ing South was reported by David
Estus, Huntsville Road, Friday, Sep-
tember 7, at 11:45. David, at nine,
is one of the Post's best reporters
on natural phenomena, seldom
missing anything in the changing
seasons.
Mrs. Antoinette Mason's thorough
grounding in bird lore, coupled
with David's own keen native ob-
servation, is responsible for this.
Children who have gone through
Mrs. Mason’s second grade are
never at a loss for the name of
a bird or a knowledge of its habits,
basic information which helps them
through their entire school life and
beyond.
Many boat |:
We of this age could again en-
REV. FREDERICK W. REINFURT
Everybody knows Rev. Frederick
W. Reinfurt, pastor of Dallas Meth-
odist Church for the past seven
years. He's a country boy at heart,
and glad to get back into the hills.
Florida, where he served for three
years, suits him all right in the
winter, but he wouldn't miss a
northern spring and summer and
fall for anything.
A boy born on a farm, he says,
may enjoy a bit of city life as a
change, but there is a deep primal
urge that inevitably draws him
back to the soil. There is the feel
of dark rich dirt between the
fingers that satisfies the heart and
soul, a knowledge of kinship with
all growing things. Rev. Reinfurt
hopes some day to own a farm and
work it himself, but probobly will
not realize his hopes until retire-
ment from the minjstry.
He recollects that as a young
boy ‘in Arlington he helped with
all the farm work during the school
terms, doing chores before walking
a mile and a half to school, chores
again before supper, and the same
routine later when working 9-10
hours a day in the mill, including
threshing oats by lantern light after
supper, sometimes until 10 PM.
When he felt the call of the
ministry he had already been out |,
of school for five years, having left
at the age of fifteen to work first
in a glass factory, later as a weaver
in Hawley and Honesdale. The
glass works in White Mills, when
it closed supplied experienced
workmen for the Corning factory.
When young Reinfurt decided to
(Continued on Page Five)
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ONLY
YESTERDAY
From The Post of ten and
twenty years ago this week.
From The Issue Of
September 12, 1941
Lake turns down local Option at
Primaries with overwhelming ma-
jorities. ;
Dallas may have an auxiliary
landing field for small air craft on
Parrish Heights.
Concrete will be poured for piers
for the new highway bridge at the
foot of Machell Avenue on Monday,
and Machell opened again for traffic
within two weeks.
Teddy Frantz, Harveys Lake real
estate man, was killed Tuesday
night when his power boat ram-
med a seaplane moored opposite
Wilwood without running lights.
Flight training at Forty Fort
Municipal Airport is offered to col-
lege men. Dallas men are asked
to apply at once, as primary pro-
gram begins next week.
Elsie Garinger, Alderson, was
married to Joseph Rauch Septem-
ber 3.
Famous make, pure silk hosiery,
59¢ pair; men’s sample fall hats,
98 cents. :
Wilson Ryman elected tax col-
lector for Dallas Township; David
Deater is tax collector for Lake.
Appointed ‘to Dallas Borough
school patrol are Willis Ide, Ralph
Antrim, Dick LeGrand, and William
Barry. They will guard crossing
at Mill Street and the highway,
and on Main Street.
Frederick Eck, Cashier
Returns From School
Frederick J. Eck, First National
Bank, was among the 208 men
from 23 states who were graduated
Friday night (August 31) from the
School of Banking at the Univers-
ity of Wisconsin. ;
The fifth graduating class of the
Wisconsin School of Banking spon-
sored by the Central States Con-
ference, had representatives from
these states: Illinois 31, Wiscon-
sin 22, Michigan 32, Iowa 6, Minne-
sota 14, Ohio 21, Missouri 15, Kan-
sas 13, Indiana 9, Colorado 4, Okla-
homa 9, Nebraskas 6, New York 4,
South Dakota 5, Arkansas 2, Flor-
ida 1, Tennessee 1, Louisiana 1,
North Dakota 1, Connecticut 1,
Pennsylvania 2, California 1, and
Texas 1.
of the school consisted of 41 men
in 1947, 67 men in 1948, 140 men
in 1949, and 194 men in 1950. The
1951 graduation ceremony, held in
the Memorial Union theater on the
State University campus here, was
attended by some 1,000 students,
friends, and relatives of the grad-
‘the dumbest person?
The first four graduating classes |
Ba ll
When one brings up children
there are many Wworrysome years
that pops and moms put in. First
it is the fear of sickness, then as
the kids get older it’s accidents;
when they reach their teens there
is always a worry that they will
‘get into bad company, then there
are wars, but if you are lucky they
come back and you at last see
them grow up into what the neigh-
bors consider somewhat respectable
citizens. Then you may sit back and
enjoy your children with pride,
but the best is yet to come. They
marry and give you nice daughters-
and-sons-in-laws. We have been
very fortunate that way, our kids
in marrying, have added the
grandest group of extra daughters
and a son to our family. We just
came back from visiting one of
them in Florida. We had a most
wonderful vacation with our kids
and two of our grandchildren.
The South, as you know, is a
farming country. The corn has
dried up and other edible vegeta-
tion has been harvested and the
plants plowed under, but peanuts
are in abundance at this time. One
goes through miles and miles of
lush peanut fields. We ignorantly
thought that the nut of this plant
was the root, because we have al-
ways been told that it grows under
the ground. The latter is correct,
but it is not a root. The peanut
is the seed of the plant. These
seeds grow out from the bush and
are attached to a long stem, the
nuts reach the ground and are
pushed under by the growth of the
plant and there ripen. Aren't we
Tobacco and
cotton is being picked now in states
south of North Carolina, but in that
State the plants have not as yet
matured. Only the large tobacco
leaves are harvested and dried and
brought to market centers. The
smaller leaves and the stalks are
then plowed under. 2
One sees for miles negro laborers,
both sexes, with bags hanging down
from their shoulders, bending over
all day long picking cotton. They
spread large burlap cloths out in
the sun on the berm of the road,
dumping the picked cotton flowers
into this burlap. That was the only
time we saw the workers unbend
their backs. When the burlap is
filled, the four corners are knot-
ted and the cotton is weighed so
the workers may be paid. The
cotton is then brought to the gin-
ning mills to separate the seed
from the fibre. It is carted in
trailers . behind automobiles for
mules to the mills. These carts
are low built ‘with high upright
slats.” They are somewhat like the
show horse trailer trucks we see
occasionally in the North. Some-
times if the burlap is overfilled
or is not tied securely, cotton
flowers escape in the wind and the
roads for miles is strewn with
cotton.
We were fortunate enough to see
a ginning mill in operation. Farmers
line their carts up for blocks wait-
ing their turn to have their cotton
ginned and baled. Each farmer
dumps the cart’s contents on the
ground at the door of the mill.
An air pipe sucks the cotton up
to a dryer as it must be dried
thoroughly before the eotton can
be separated from the seed.
If it has rained the day the
cotton was picked, which had hap-
pened on the load we saw go
through, then it has to go to the
dryer twice. This second process
costs the farmer an extra $2.00
a bale. The seeds are removed,
or we should say the cotton is
torn from its seed at a cost of a
cent a pound. The farmer may
sell the seed at $60.00 to $65.00
a ton to the mill, or store it wait-
ing for a higher price. Each farmer
has only his own load go through
at one time. The amount we saw
weighed at 1200 pounds. After
passing through the gin drums, four
hundred pounds of cotton were
baled and it gave forth 660 pounds
of seed. A four hundred pound
bale is generally trucked to an-
other compressing factory where
it is rebaled with additional cotton
to make a 750 to 800 pound bale
for the market.
After the cotton is dried it is
sucked by air into the gin machine
where revolving drums with small
spikes tear .the cotton away from
the seed. The seeds fall into a
lower receptacle and the fluffy cot-
ton is drawn through pipes into
balers.
For us, travelling along the road
with nothing else to do, it was
picturesque to see this long line
of farmers with little carts of cot-
ton, awaiting their turn to have
the cotton separated from its seed.
We were vacationing, but they
were finishing a hard day's work,
tired and sweaty, but never too
(Continued on Page Six)
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uates.
THE CALIPH OF THE HEN HOUSE
It is my sad duty this week to report the passing of a gallant
gentleman. Red, the rooster, is dead. He died sometime Friday
night crestfallen on the floor of the chicken house unable to ascend
proudly to the roost where he had held dominion over his flock of
hens for many years.
Red came from a long strain of fine New Hampshire Reds; so long
ago that none remembers his exact age. Granny claims it was ten
years, though Myra and I are prone to. believe it was about seven.
A beautiful bird—though a strict polygamist—he was the favorite
of the hen house, and admired, even in his old age, by every giddy
pullet. He was their champion and protected them from the jealousy
of all the old hens when they were introduced to the flock. But he
never neglected his old charges to chase a new skirt.
He took his responsibilities seriously. He was the one to wake
the flock in the morning with his clarion call to be up and doing.
He was the first off the roost, and the one who always discovered a
choice bit of food and called a wandering or pre-occupied hen to
come and partake of the feast while he stood aside to let them
have their fill. When he ate, he ate sparingly.
He was fastidious about his personal appearance. Proud of his
gorgeous red comb which was always erect, and his flowing wattles
which brushed the iridescent feathers of his breast. And his spurs,
fully three inches long and pointed to rapier sharpness, caused him
to lift his legs proudly as he patrolled his domain.
Many a younger cock, hatched and grown to maturity by one of
Red’s wives, felt the full authority of those spurs when in his callow
arrogance he challenged the sovereignty of the caliph of the hen-
house.
A true aristocrat, Red tolerated no bickerings within his family.
And the cast system which some of the hens attempted to establish
got short shift from him. Whenever a smart young Junior Leaguer
pecked at a thrifty producing matron, Red broke up the squabble
immediately, first with a gutteral warning and then with force if
necessary. The busybody, the producer and the prima donna of the
hen house knew their places while Red was in his prime.
At dusk as the sun settled over the hillside back of Bert Smith's
house, Red ushered his family into the coop and seemed to check
them one by one until they were settled comfortably on their perches
for the night. Then he found his place between two favorites and
peace descended over all.
In his youth he may have believed like Rostand’s Chanticleer
that the sun would not arise without his clear shrill invitation for
he made the rafters ring, and the neighbor’s boy roll over in his
warm bed, when he sounded his trumpet. But somewhere along the
line, Red discovered that the sun weuld come up anyway without
so much exertion, and in his latter years, was more apt to give it
only a brief morning greeting.
Years ago we decided that only the grim one would challenge
his rule—not with axe or knife—but with the age that cuts us all
down. There were warnings that the end was near, though he kept
his self-esteem and bearing to the last, but nights he often retired
before the rest of the flock, and he was lax in greeting a new pullet
with all the fire and ardor of a former day. And on occasion we
had to help him off the roost which must have caused him great
humiliation.
His beautiful plumage remained the same until the last, and that
red comb, his plume, which never saw defeat or suffered in the dust
was bright and erect, when David Estus, come to do his morning
chores, found him lying quietly in the straw beneath the roost.
Thus passes a cavalier, a gentleman of the Barnyard, the protector
and solace of all good hens and pullets, the official greeter of the
hen house, a loyal friend who on occasion often helped to fill this
column. or x
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