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MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(GENESIS)
1965
Hunger My Constant Companion
The
New Islet River was less than a hundred yards from our house.
This stretch of river between Sneads Ferry and Camp Lejeune was
briny. The river’s fresh water drove out towards the ocean from
inland, co-mingling with the Atlantic’s salt-packed water, which
was simultaneously forced inland on its eternally crashing
waves. Both of these sources blended together creating a slurry
for a greater range of life than supported by the average river,
the mix of marine and fresh water allowing fresh water fish and
turtles to live right along side many species of animals usually
found only in very salty waters.
I
loved walking down to the river’s edge, exploring and hunting
for food. I could sense the power of the river was vibrant with
life. It did not possess the rumbling power of a large river
cascading down a rocky mountainside; this river was languid by
comparison.
It was
usually calm, with gentle, lapping waves, whose inhabitants
enjoyed the slow methodical rise and fall of the tides.
Instead, the power that this river gave off was the richness of
creation, of birth, of death and decay. It’s essence hung heavy
in the air, often caressing my body, if the wind was just
right...especially my tongue.. After the tide had ebbed, the
algae and the bodies of shellfish and other marine life lay
trapped on the drying sand and in the crags of the rocks, and I
could taste and almost feel the chalkiness of calcium, the tang
of iodine that was so dense in the air during this cycle of life
and death.
Low
tide was the death knell for some animals of the river, but for
others, especially the crabs, it was their opportunity to scurry
about and search for food, to rip off the flesh of hapless
animals trapped there, dying or dead, to fight, feed, or breed,
whichever any of these creatures was compelled to do to complete
the cycle of life and death. Sea gulls and other birds completed
their strafing runs, joining in the feeding frenzy.
Life and
carnage was everywhere!
It was
beautiful!
During our many excursions, my brother and I often came across
frolicking porpoises, sea turtles methodically paddling up and
down the river, assassin sharks stealthily searching for prey,
hard-bodied, silvery sturgeon, huge, aggressive catfish, jittery
perch, cantankerous snapper turtles, and a variety of crabs
skittering about looking for a tasty meal of carrion. Clams,
scallops, mussels and all of the other shellfish hunkered down,
sucking their food in through greedy feeder tubes, the solitary
ugly-looking toadfish and the frivolous shrimp.
The
array of river and marine life was seemingly endless!
There was also an abundance of wildlife on land as well.
Everywhere I looked, there were a wide variety of snakes - pit
vipers, rattlers, and the king snakes that dare to devour them.
There were lizards that walk on all fours, and some of these
would rise up to race in a bipedal manner; other lizards
burrowed and fed in the sand, the anoles slyly shifting their
shading. There were box turtles and lumbering tortoises blithely
trudging through the barrens, ponds and lakeshores as they fed
and mated. The barrens and the river were thick with a plague of
frogs and toads of all types: the domineering, aggressive bull
frogs devouring their competition, the sleek leopard and
prickled frogs carefully staying in the periphery as cape
hunting dogs will do with lions, the croaking, chirping tree
frogs perched high as they sang and searched for a mate.
In
the spring, all of them took to the streams and ponds, putting
aside their quest for food to mate: the female frog, fat with
millions of eggs encased in protective jelly; the male, one- to
two-thirds the size of their bloated mates, clutching and
struggling greedily with their webbed forelegs under her arm
pits, back legs on her fat sides in sexual desperation. They
reminded me of frantic bull riders trying to hold on for dear
life as they
fucked Froggy style.
There were various salamanders that made their domiciles under
the moist fallen leaves and logs or stayed in the water. Some
were small, drab brown with orange underbellies; others were
long, chubby, and multi-colored or tiger patterned.
There were also a wide variety of colorful birds, such as the
beautiful red cardinal, majestic eagles, powerful ospreys that
snatched fish from the river, owls, private and secretive by
day, shadowy death wraiths by night, cunning ravens busily
killing and collecting souvenirs, pelicans trawling in one or
more fish per swoop, cranes stepping delicately through the
reeds, squalling bickering sea gulls, an affront to all
creatures, especially the fishermen and shimpers. It was a
wonderful assortment of birds.
To
my pleasant surprise, but not without a bit of fear, I found
that there were also alligators in my new neighborhood. They
could be found in the swamps all around the area. Before moving
there, I had thought they were only in Florida. But, they had
managed to make their way north. It was later that I found out
that there are inter-coastal waterways that run continuously
from Florida to North Carolina. So, I suppose that’s how they
made it to the area where we now lived. I thought it was just
neat!
The
abundant life at the edge of the New Islet River would prove to
be a source of supplementary food for my brother and I, and
sometimes my sister when she would choose not to be so
squeamish.
My
mother working as waitress did not provide her with the
necessary income.
Between the low wages from work and an absence of child support
from my father, her struggle was hardscrabble and it was
constant and hard. To her credit and as a testament of her
dedication to us, we never went without supper. However, the
quantity of food was not sufficient to quiet the hunger for the
nourishment that my brother and I craved for our growing bodies.
My brother and I never let on to our mother how we hungered, but
it was something that we had lamented to each other on more than
a few occasions.
Almost everyday, my brother and I would go to the river, or into
the swamps, to hunt crayfish, crabs, fish, or shellfish. We
would gather scallops and clams. On the spot, we would smash
open the shells and scoop out the meat, guts and all, and wolf
them down as fast as we found them. That’s how harvesting the
meat from clams is done; it’s pretty straight forward. However,
scallops have only a small portion of meat that is edible, and
the rest of it is just guts. (The intestines are supposed to be
thrown away). My brother and I ignored this rule and ate every
part of the shellfish.
The
crabs or fish we caught we brought home to boil or fry. Crayfish
could be baked or boiled. Soft-shell crabs could be cleaned and
fried for crab sandwiches. My cousin Ricardo showed us how to
clean fish and crabs. The hard-shelled crabs we boiled and then
we’d gorge ourselves on them.
Once, when my mother found out that we had harvested some
shellfish and crabs, she expressed concern about the legalities
of harvesting them out of season.
My
brother and I allowed our stomachs to decide what was right.
After that, we kept the news of our future spoils to ourselves.
Usually, we would warm up the food that mother had prepared the
night before, since she normally got home from work late, and
supplement her food with the crabs, crayfish, frogs, turtles,
fish, and shellfish we’d harvested. It helped to get James and I
through what would have otherwise been very uncomfortable times;
even my sister indulged, now and then.
During the season when my uncle and the other shrimpers brought
in their catch I worked down at the dock with the other women
and children, de-heading and cleaning the shrimp and packing
them in ice. De-heading the shrimp was a skill using your thumb
and popping the head right off the body of the shrimp at a fast
and furious pace.
I
loved the taste of shrimp, especially in those hunger-filled
days. The little beauties, however, are filthy. They have spines
that often puncture or cut the hands of the people cleaning
them, sometimes giving them pretty nasty infections.
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(EXODUS)
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(REVELATIONS)
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent Life
(JUDGMENT DAY)
ADVENTURES IN MARINE BIOLOGY
THE MARINES: GOD'S CHOSEN
WARRIORS
VINCE'S GYM
CONVERSATIONS WITH NEO
NEO TEACHES ME THE ART OF WAR
& PEACE;
His Version of The Matrix
MEMORIES OF MY FATHERS
ZEN & THE ART OF RESISTANCE
TRAINING:
A Yogic & Scientific Approach To Weight
Lifting
ZEN & THE BIOLOGY OF
TRANSCENDENCE:
The First Matrix of Psychic
Phenomena
ZEN & THE ART OF KINESIOLOGY:
The Yogic & Scientific
Approach To Movement
ZEN & YOUR ENERGY SYSTEMS
ZEN & VARIOUS ASPECTS OF
TRAINING
MOST PEOPLE TALK BULLSHIT:
One Primate's Search For Intelligent
Life (GENESIS)
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