Waiting For My Wife's Slow Progress

@Marilyn Pahl

I kind of thought my word looked strange, so no, it was not car-nina, but eel. Closest thing to blood soup where I grew up was a kind of blood sausage, called Jaternice, in Czech. That's pronounced "yi-thir-nyitz-eh". It was dark in color, containing cooked blood and a filler of rice. The "sister" sausage was white in color, called Jelita, "yel-ee-thah". No idea what was in it!
Frank

 

Hungarians had the blood sausage also. The white one was with liver like liver wurst I think. The dark one was blood and rice. I grew to like them as an adult but didn't as a child.

It was called Hurka in Hungarian.

 

@Chrissy Page
Your pics are almost exactly as I remember them. Only difference was they were not curved, but rather straight, and a bit skinnier. There was also a Czech sausage, very long, that they spiraled into a pinwheel, stuck 2 long wooden sticks through crosswise, to hold it together. Looked like this:

 

Two of my sons went through survival training while in the army. They told me about some of the things they ate. Large insects and snakes, almost anything that moved was on the menu.
One son said they were left in the desert for a length of time. They had their rifles, but only blank cartridges. Son said he saw lots of those small wild desert pigs. So he loaded a blank cartridge in his rifle, put the cleaning rod in the barrel. When the pigs came to a small water hole, he shot the cleaning rod through one, like an arrow. The other men were doing the same thing.The day before they were picked up, he shot a small deer the same way. They didn't have to eat many bugs on that trip.

 

@Ike Willis

Clever use of the cleaning rod! I would have done the same to eat pig in preference to bugs and such, but still would fear the possibility of a burst barrel.
Frank

 

I imagine the cleaning rods were a loose enough fit that enough gas blew by to keep that from happening. Still, there's always that chance.

 

@Ike Willis
My Dad told me, as a kid, when I was growing up around firearms, several things that he saw happen, when he was young, with guns. One was when his own Dad, my Grandpa, and him were out hunting rabbit for dinner, in Wisconsin. My Grandpa tripped and stabbed the muzzle of his shotgun into the snow, no earth, just snow. Thought nothing of it. Short time later they flushed out a big rabbit, he aimed and fired, and a tremendous blast blew the end of the barrel open, like a peeled banana.

The other incident was told to my Dad at 16, also in WI, by his Mother's brother, his uncle, who lived with them. He was deaf in one ear, that caused by a burst shotgun barrel way back by the breech.

Shotguns are in my book good firearms, with several valid uses. Knowing and understanding their foibles as well as their proper use is the same as with any other gun.

 

Once when hunting with my dad and cousins it was pheasant season. I had a double barrel shotgun Dad let me use, when I went to fire the one side was enough to shimmy the shell in the other chamber. Had a crossfire going and knocked me on my rear. Scared the heck out of me was really shaking. Wasn't long after I got my 4.10....

 

@Ike Willis @Marilyn Pahl

Real early on, my Dad warned me that the right (and only) way to fire a shotgun, is to hold the stock tightly back against your shoulder. Failure to do so will likely result in a blow to the shoulder causing pain and bruising.

He also said that firing a shotgun while holding the stock against a tree will likely break the stock. Never tried it though, which is surprising knowing my personal "need to know"!

Eventually, I progressed to shooting the 12 gauge underhand, at my side. This gosh-awful shocks the elbow! Small wonder my elbows today are inventoried among the "joints that hurt".
Frank

 

This shotgun I used no one seemed to know where it came from. I hated the looks of it anyway. I had a 22 that my cousin was using that day. Dad was furious and gave the double barrel shotgun to a gunsmith in town. Told him what happen to me and he could have it for nothing if he wanted it. The 4.10 many consider a ladies rifle was my favorite. I loved it for hunting and trap & skeet shooting.

 

My first shotgun was a Remington sportsman 48. It was a 20ga. semi auto. I was 12 when I got it. Must have run thousands of shells through it over the years. One of my grandsons has it now and it still works good as ever.
I've owned hundreds of guns over the years. Had many "wish I'd kept" guns. Always had a love affair with pistols. Had more of them than anything. I sure do miss my shooting days.

 

I love duck eggs. They are so tasty, but I rather watch the antics of ducks than eat them.

When I was 13, right after my father married me off to a to city man almost 40 years my senior, I remember he, (husband), brought home a goose for me to cook for a weekend get together. I tried to tell him that the animal had been a pet, and was way too old for cooking.

Of course he said I was too young to know anything about it, so he put the goose on the BBQ pit to slow cook for several hours. I made lots the fixing to go with his BBQed duck thank goodness.

We all sat down to eat, and like the macho fool he was, he decided to show me how to carve a goose. He never got even one piece to put on a plate. But, we had plenty of sides to eat.

After everyone left, my ex tried to boil that goose for soup or whatever, but to no avail. I finally threw the darn thing outside for the dogs. It became the tug of war toy for several days, but when I finally got tired of seeing it around the yard, I threw it away, and it was still in one piece.

So much for his wisdom of age.

 

If it wasn't your father that had the Indian Heritage, Ina....he should have been jailed and I hate to say that about your father but marrying off a 13 yr old to a 53 yr old is very sick. The 53 yr old should have been jailed also.

I do respect other cultures and that is their business but not in the US. If I have the story wrong....sorry.

Just makes me angry.

 

Does any hunting enthusiast remember this????? Back in the 50's there was a government program that allowed school students to hunt with their folks. This was (Putting Food On The Table). You had to show the principal your hunting license and give him a permission slip from your folks. You could get off school a good week. Me and my one cousin attended Waterville school, and only girls with hunting licenses. We had our black/red plaid jackets with a place to put our license on the back.

Another thing I remember was a small grocery store in town, that had a butcher shop in the back. They also rented out refrigerated lockers. You rented whatever size you wanted. Dad would get a good size because he would buy half a side of beef and have it cut the way he wanted. Also for a price the butcher would clean and dress whatever bird, or animal you shot in the hunt, and put in your locker. My gosh the things a person remembers.