WIDE MEADOWS; PORK ROAST AND SNIPE: PREPARING FOR A HUNT (A CONTINUING SERIES)

Editor's note: This is an installment from a chapter of Jean Bell Mosley's book "Wide Meadows" that was first published in 1960.

Last week: Preparing for the butchering

We conferred with our friends at school about this and decided that nothing could be more American than taking the Kotiski boys on a snipe hunt. "And I know just the log to use," Lou exclaimed.

A quick smile of pleasure passed over Jon's face when we asked him if he would join us that night for the hunt,

"What's a snipe?" he asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a snipe?" Cabe asked incredulously.

Jon scratched his head with labored thinking but reluctantly admitted that he'd never seen a snipe. "But I'm a good hunter, and Flemm, too," he added hastily, for fear we would withdraw the invitation. "Just tell us what they look like and if one comes close, we'll shoot it all right."

"Oh, you don't shoot these," Paul explained with earnest and elaborate patience, giving a so-and-so measurement of the height and length of this fictitious American animal. Lou and I nodded in solemn agreement.

"First, you find their runs. You know what a run is, don't you?" Cabe asked.

The blond shaggy heads nodded vigorously. Sure, they know what runs were.

"Well, two people or more-better just two people though-hide on their runs, holding an open sack, and the others get behind on the trail and drive the snipe into the sack."

The Kotiskis shook their heads in tolerant amusement at such funny American hunting.

"They good to eat?" Flemm asked.

"Oh, sure! The best," Cabe assured them. "Little salt and pepper."

It was cold that night -- a clear, still cold. There was a hard crust of snow and ice on the river. We met at the swinging bridge and did a little shoe-sole skating first.

"They don't come out 'til 'bout nine o'clock," Cabe explained to Jon and Flemm, and the rest of us giggled silently into our mufflers.

"You bring your sack?" Paul asked.

The Kotiskis displayed an old tow sack for our inspection.

"Ought to be all right," Cabe said, holding it up to the moonlight. "Well, let's get started."

Jon and Flemm were stationed at the end of that hollow log on top of Simms Mountain with their sack.

"For some reason or other they likely run through logs," Cabe told them, generously sharing his knowledge of snipe hunting. "Now, it may take some time for us to drive them this way, but don't give up."

The Kotoskis nodded in understanding and made replies indicative of their staunchness.

"Who gets the snipe?" Jon hollered after us.

"Oh, you can have them," we chorused.

"Well, thanks," came the reply.

Far enough away, we stopped to give freedom to our mirth and to contemplate the expressions of chagrin on the Kotiskis' faces on the morrow. After assuring each other that we had done our part in introducing them to a great American country custom and speculating hilariously on just how long they would stay there, we went home to warm beds and a good night's sleep.

It was the consensus that the Kotiskis would slip into school the next day unobtrusively and as silently as possible, red-faced and hangdog. But they made their usual blustery entrance, letting in cold air and a flurry of snow, and, as always, accompanied by their terrible aura of smells. Today it was even worse. Their heads were held high but their faces were satisfyingly red. After closer inspection you could say the Kotiskis were aglow.

Jon and Flemm flashed wide, friendly, toothy grins and held up two fingers in a triumphant gesture.

Baffled expressions were exchanged over the school room. A few notes were guardedly passed up and down the aisle, wanting to know what was up. I asked to speak to Anna and whispered, "How did they come out?"

"They got two," she replied, looking pridefully at her brothers.

"Two what?" I demanded.

"Snipe, you call them."

I would have pressed her further but today the garlic, asafetida, and whatever else were too powerful.

At recess Cabe and Paul began on them. "Well, how you like snipe hunting?" they asked, mocking laughter in their eyes.

"Fine, fine," Jon said. "They didn't run into the sack, though. We clubbed them like we always do."

"Oh, yeah?"

Things weren't coming off as everyone had planned.

"Like to go again, I guess?" Cabe asked.

"Sure. Anytime," Jon replied. There was only friendliness and good will in his voice. He and Flemm could not understand just why we were all so skeptical about their having caught snipe. I couldn't help admiring the way they had turned the tables on us.

No use in carrying it so far, though, I thought, when Mama told Lou and me when we got home from school that Mrs. Kotiski had called that day and invited us all up for a snipe supper the next evening, since we had been so nice as to help show the boys how to catch them.

"You see?" Mama said. "She can take a joke just like the rest of us."

"Are we going?" Lou demanded.

"Why, of course we're going," Mama said.

"We could all get sick," Lou suggested, brightening.

"But we're not sick," Mama said, her eyes beginning to flash. "And when neighbors are kind enough to ask us for a meal, we must go. We're probably the first she has ever asked."

We thought this a dubious honor.

"Wonder what she'll have to eat?" Lou said, suppressing a shudder.

Mama made us put on our best dresses and patent leather shoes. Dad curried the team, and we set off in style that evening, with scrubbed faces and freshly braided hair.

"Is the good neighbors!" Mrs. Kotiski shouted back to her household as she ran to meet us. Mr. Kotiski came out and very solemnly shook hands with every one of us, shifting a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Come in, please?" Mrs. Kotiski asked, as if she still doubted we had come a-calling. She would walk a few steps ahead, then turn anxiously to see if we were still following.

Lou and I were expecting to be stifled in the small house with so many Kotiskis under one roof, for besides Jon, Flemm, and Anna, there were two more little ones at home. However it wasn't so bad. There was a pleasant aroma of roasting meat. If snipe smelled like that while cooking, then we would have some! We suspicioned they had rounded up someone's hog that roamed the hills and butchered it.

Mrs. Kotiski had set one long table in the living room. There were only four chairs, but plenty of upturned boxes and long benches. There were forks and knives at some places, and she saw to it that we were seated there. Lacking a tablecloth, she had spread colored comic sections of the paper on the table and we thought that was clever.

First came a big bowl of turnips, which she set in the middle of the table; then a bowl of turnip slaw to one side of that, and then the piece de resistance snipe! We each took a piece, anxious to see just what it was.

"Squirrel," I whispered to Lou.

"Too big," she murmured under her breath. "Must be rabbit."

Dad's brows were knit in questioning concentration as he took his first bite. He looked at Mama, who was also thoughtfully chewing.

"Catching many possums?" Dad asked brightly, turning to Mr. Kotiski.

"Is the ones who play like dead?"

Dad nodded.

"No. No luck with possum."

Dad took another bite. "Saw lots of coon tracks down by the river the other day."

"Coon? They good to eat?" Mrs. Kotiski asked, passing us the salt and pepper.

"Some folks do," Dad said.

"Better than snipe?" Mrs. Kotiski asked, gnawing on a piece of rib. "We don't call 'em snipe back home."

Dad only laughed but stole a baffled look at Mama.

Well, whatever it was, it was pretty good, I thought. There wasn't a piece left.

After supper Mama helped Mrs. Kotiski with the dishes. Dad and Mr. Kotiski talked about the price of railroad ties. Jon and Flemm taught Lou and me some strange game they played on something like a checkerboard. Soon it was time to go home, for tomorrow was another school day, and we had to report on the snipe supper to Cabe and Paul and the others.

Mr. Kotiski lit his lantern and showed us out to the surrey.

"Is skins any good here?" he asked Dad.

"What skins?"

"Snipe skins."

"Oh," Dad laughed. "Kids will have their fun, won't they?"

Mr. Kotiski's brow furrowed with his labored attempt to understand.

"Come," he mentioned with his lantern and led Dad off behind the woodshed. Lou and I followed. We had an interest here.

"My boys know how to remove the sacks on these here snipe,' as you call them. That makes the skins better, and you couldn't eat them any other way," Mr. Kotiski said, holding the lantern high. And there, nailed up, shining in the bright circle of light, were two of the prettiest skins you ever saw; bushy tails; long, silky, jet-black fur -- with white stripes right down the middle of the backs.

Next week: A gift for Molly.