Haircuts 'n Froglegs

Picture this...Dennis, Tx----school is out and stayin' with Mama Fronie and Daddy Ernie on the farm---loved it--runnin' wild in the woods, fishin', huntin', just me n Penny---the little runt Terrier---squirrel dog extraordinare---and 300 + acres to run wild in. Back then--all you had to do was call your neighbors n tell em you were gonna be at their tank, or huntin in their woods. As it was---really didn't even have to call ---like  I said earlier---THE GOOD  OLE DAYS----if you didn't abuse the land the owners didn't care if you hunted, fished or just walked thru. Within walkin' distance I had access to about 8-10 stock  tanks, some had catfish, some bass---all had perch----n big  ole bullfrogs. The main topic of my story.

Daddy Ernie would say---boy --its about time for you to get a haircut. Man, I dreaded that and you'll see why. The guy that cut hair was an old retired barber---he used clippers and man they were hair pullers.  Wore my hair short, they  called em burrs back then. Now  they call em GI Cut--or other fancy names. Here's where the bullfrogs come in.

I would take off with my trusty 22---Penny the squirrel dog----converted to frog dog when huntin frogs and hit the tanks that held the frogs. I would sneak up on the tank dam and peek over---the bullfrogs would be settin' on the bank---usually underneath trees in the shade. I would pick  one and shoot  it in the head with my 22--usually it would jump  in---reflex and if the others that were in sight did not jump in also I would  pop another. They usually didn't go too far and if the tank was clear I  could see 'em and with a stick drag 'em to  the bank.  Muddy water was a little more difficult to find them in---but I would persevere and get my frog.  Waitin' awhile and the ones that  jumped  would have to surface and their big ole'  green heads a floatin in the water  made good targets.  Now is when Penny turned into frog dog---he hated it----I know he did---he would look at me as if to say---"you want me to do what?".  After throwin' a few rocks or whatever at the floatin frog he would go get it.  Little guy could swim--short legs a churnin.  Like I said---he didn't like it and would rub his face in the grass gettin the frog taste off.

Have you guessed yet what the froglegs were for?  Traded 'em for haircuts for me n my Grandad. Usually, I would get about 8-10 frogs---figure about 16-20 legs---a good meal.  The barber was tickled---I  was in pain from  the hair pullin.

---he would take a run with the clippers and  when he threw the hair off he  would pull some with  the trimmins. Daddy Ernie got the scissors so he never experienced the "dreaded clippers".