April – An Abundance Of Riches

The only reason April isn’t my favorite month of the year is that October and May get in the way. Still, it’s mighty close, thanks to the advent of another spring, the arrival of turkey season, trout rising to dry flies, crappie spawning and bass either at the end of spawning or in a hungry post-spawn mode, wildflowers blooming in abundance, and so much more.

Thus far this particular April has brought mixed blessings. I had a computer disaster spoil a planned trip to Georgia this past weekend, but thanks to the Geek Squad and expenditure of a couple of hundred bucks, I’m now back in business. That was a stress-producing downer, and I guess in some senses the same could be said of my ventures into spring cleaning (i.e., straightening out the storage shed, getting my study as close to orderly condition as it ever comes, and preparing some book lists). In the latter regard, if you haven’t done so lately I would encourage you to visit the books section of this website. Two new lists – one of upwards of 40 original Derrydale Press books and the second a smaller selection of Jack O’Connor material – appear there. Sometime in the coming month or two there will also be a monstrous expansion of the Africana list, with perhaps a thousand new titles being added. Eventually I’ll get around to a couple of other lists as well.

That’s it when it comes to a shameless commercial. Let’s move on to more pleasant things. Here in the South April means gardening, and I’ve already got asparagus bearing; early crops (cabbage, broccoli, and cauliflower) coming along; both annual and perennial herbs doing nicely; and tomatoes, squash, zucchini, eggplant, and other veggies in the ground. Raspberries are showing tender leaves while blueberries are in full bloom. My big garden project this year involves muscadines, and I’m carefully watching twenty-odd new plants even as my established vines begin to put out leaves.

It’s turkey time too, and as these words are being written the oft-wasted portions of a gobbler, legs, thighs, neck, and wings, are simmering in a stew pot. They’ll furnish the key ingredient for a hearty soup, wild turkey pie, or pate. I just haven’t decided which, but you will find recipes for all three below. That meat comes as a result of a successful hunt, well, sort of, this morning.

For the second time in as many days I was involved in an uneven battle of wits with a loudmouth longbeard. I didn’t count how many times he gobbled yesterday before I made a mistake after three hours of him being within 100 yards and he walked away, not totally alarmed but putting as he went. This morning he had gobbled a whopping 151 times when I stopped counting and walked away from him. The idea was to let him enjoy the sounds of silence for awhile and then I’d come back and see if he was interested in closing the deal.

It worked inasmuch as when I returned he was still gobbling and had come to within 100 yards. There the stalemate stood when a subordinate interloper slipped in silently. A load of Remington Extended Range in number 6 shot ended his career. Meanwhile, I’ll try a rematch with old loudmouth tomorrow or the next day, and then, if he’s still walking and gobbling, there will be a longish interlude as I head first to Texas and then Arkansas.

The trout will have to wait a bit longer, although I fully intend to enjoy the best of both worlds come the first week in April. Then I’ll head to my beloved highland homeland in the Smokies and hunt turkeys for the first hours of the day then follow up with a number of hours on a trout stream. I might even end the day trying to roost a bird, although I’m not sure how much of that these aging bones can take.

Now, it’s time to turn to some of the reasons I’m so enamored of April, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. Here’s my effort at a sort of narrative ode to the myriad joys of April.

For me, April ushers in a month of sheer magic and a world of warm, wonderful memories. At the top of the list comes fond recollection of opening weekend of trout season camping trips, a sort of full and formal declaration that winter was gone and the annual war against cabin fever had once again been won. Sure, blackberry winter might lie ahead, but that was just a couple of days of unseasonable cold you knew wouldn’t last.

Another grand memory revolves around the big spring research project for Mr. Clifford Frizzell’s 10^th grade biology class. If ever there was a stroke of pure pedagogical genius, it was his assignment to gather plants, identify them by their common and scientific names, and earn extra credit if you could provide some information about their characteristics as they affected humans. At least for a teenager who loved the woodlands, it was an assignment made in heaven.

April arrives with the colorful splashes of pinkish-purple of redbuds adorning forest edges and openings, and these soon give way to the vivid, eye-catching white of dogwoods.

April is dainty bluets abloom amidst a bed of moss, sparkling like a sprinkling of sapphires on a carpet of green.

It is a bed of shy jack-in-the-pulpits, their lovely flowers of purple-and-green stripes demurely hidden beneath a plain hood which, when lifted, reveals all their beauty.

It’s the matchless light green of a patch of Mayapples bursting through the leaf mold of the forest understory, suitably partnered by the cheery little blooms of a bunch of nearby bloodroot.

April means trilliums and wake-robins in bloom, violets and cinquefoil in all their showy best, and the deep, elusive purple of a grove of blossoming pawpaws tucked away along some woodland rivulet.

It’s the long, golden limbs of a half dozen yellowbells in the yard of an old home place. They bear mute but beautiful testament to times when this site was hearth and home to a family earning a hardscrabble living from the land. Or, perhaps nearby, it is a patch of periwinkle’s delicate purple blooms displayed against a background of shiny, deep green. Often you will find tombstones scattered there amidst the periwinkle, and the old mountain name for this plant, graveyard ivy, is an appropriate one.

April is a crisp, clear dawn with a wild turkey high atop a hardwood ridge gobbling repeatedly to remind all creatures within earshot that he is lord of the forest. It’s the eerie eight-note call of a barred owl garnering a response from that same gobbler.

It’s the raucous cries of crows at dawn and a verbal shouting match between those black bullies and a soaring, screaming hawk.

It’s a mother bluebird patiently carrying pine straw and bits of dried grass to a box as she builds a nest, while her more brightly colored mate stands guard and bravely chases birds twice his size any time they intrude in his “no fly” zone.

April means spawning crappie and fishermen celebrating the end of winter with hopes of a cooler full of slabs. It’s a chance to catch a golly-whomper of a big bass in lakes or to cast dainty dry flies to trout rising to a hatch on a sunny afternoon.

It’s a leisurely stroll through quiet woodlands, marveling every step of the way and just how many shades of green greet the eye and savoring the eternal magic of earth’s reawakening. Also, if you pay attention, awareness dawns that it isn’t really quiet at all – there are birds singing and tree frogs peeping, bumblebees busily buzzing and a whole world awakening to warmth.

April is putting a temporary home in the form of a backpack atop your shoulders and heading into the back country for several days of camping. It’s the enduring delight of a mess of pan-fried trout wearing cornbread dinner jackets and setting your salivary glands into overdrive. Enjoyed at the campfire of a remote campsite, they furnish fare no five-star restaurant can match.

April affords the joy of a steaming cup of hot chocolate or coffee before dawn as you ready for a day in the turkey woods, or the self-satisfaction of relaxing in a sleeping bag as light gives way to night.

It is the simple yet immensely satisfying culinary pleasure of a big bait of poke salad topped with hard-boiled eggs.

Or for even finer fare, April means a feast of “kilt” ramps and branch lettuce, with a chunk of steaming hot crackling cornbread on the side (for the uninitiated, “kilt” means dressing the ramps and greens with piping hot bacon grease).

April is the agony of spending three hours to call a wary old gobbler to you, only to have a sassy hen lead him away just before he strolls within gun range. Alternatively, it’s the mesmerizing moment when a lordly longbeard sails to your calling directly from the roost, marches within 30 yards, and gives you an open shot.

April is the invigorating chill of wading wet in a mountain stream; the cold forgotten when a big brown trout magically appears from the depths and sucks in a fly.

It’s a month of wonder and whimsy, joy and jubilation, and a time for outdoor celebration. Best of all, April serves as a 30-day prelude to May, and when you can hold wonder in your hand and know there’s more of the same to come, it’s great to be alive and to celebrate life in the outdoors. Sing an ode to April, because it’s a great month for those who love the outdoors.

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WILD TURKEY PIE

6 tablespoons butter
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
¼-1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2 cups homemade turkey broth
2/3 cup half-and-half cream
2 cups cooked, chopped wild turkey (use dark meat)
Prepared pastry for 2-crust pie

Melt butter; add flour and seasonings. Cook about 1 minute stirring constantly. Add broth and half-and-half and cook slowly until thickened. Add turkey and pour into pastry-lined pan. Top with rest of pastry and pinch edges together. Bake at 400 degrees for 30-45 minutes or until pastry is browned.
FROM FIELD TO FEAST: The Remington Cookbook.

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HOME STYLE WILD TURKEY NOODLE SOUP

1 quart homemade stock (you can use commercial stock, but I prefer that left from simmering dark meat of the wild turkey)
1 rib celery, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
¼ cup finely chopped onion
1 cup chopped wild turkey (dark meat – although you can use leftover breast meat as well)
¼ pound thin spaghetti noodles, broken
Salt and pepper to taste

Remove any fat from broth (there won’t be much with wild turkey). Bring to a boil; add vegetables and cook until vegetables are tender (5-8 minutes). Add turkey and noodles and cook until pasta is al dente. Stir several times to keep pasta from sticking together. Salt and pepper to taste.
FROM WILD BOUNTY.

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TURKEY PATE

Simmer the dark meat of a wild turkey until fairly tender and easily removed from the bones. Then cook the heart, liver, and gizzard of the turkey in the same water. The giblets don’t require much time. Add whatever pate ingredients you prefer – capers, coarsely ground black pepper, hard-boiled eggs, and the like – then blend until thoroughly minced in a blender or food processor. Add whatever seasonings you wish – mayonnaise, mustard, horseradish, a bit of soy sauce, or something else – and blend just enough more to mix the seasonings in. Salt to taste and eat with toast triangles, crackers, or use as a sandwich spread.
ORIGINAL RECIPE NOT FOUND IN ANY OF OUR COOKBOOKS.

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