Thursday, June 12, 2014

You Get a Line, I'll Get a Pole ...

Remember this song?

"You get a line, I'll get a pole, honey,
You get a line, I'll get a pole, babe!
You get a line, I'll get a pole,
We'll go down to the crawdad hole,
Honey, oh, baby, mine."

I was born and raised in Louisiana, but I've never seen crawdad holes as large as the ones I recently saw in Delta, Louisiana. The community of Delta is just across the Mississippi River bridge from Vicksburg, and I drove to Delta on a photo shoot to capture pictures of the Connecticut State Civil War memorial, which is located on a plot of land belonging to the Vicksburg National Military Park.

Here is a collage of the pictures I captured of the monument ...


After I finished taking the pictures, I noticed the crawdad holes. They were in a low area near the monument, and it looked like a little crawdad village. 

I couldn’t believe how BIG they were!  The tallest ones were probably 8" to 10" tall.
There were cute little baby ones, too.

I wanted to poke them with a stick, but I was afraid I'd disturb the GIANT crawdads lurking inside them, probably just waiting to pounce!

2 comments:

Stacey said...

Oh how fun! I remember catching crawdads when I was a kid.:)

racheld said...

Oh, My. You've stumbled upon the
Trump Towers of Crawdadia. I've NEVER seen such lofty edifices, and we lived in the intersection of a couple of bayous.

I always think of my high-school friend, who came home from Las Vegas to visit her parents. She was there for a week or two, with her maybe-eight-year-old son and little daughter, perhaps three.

I picked them up after work and we rode to our house way out in the country, and we sat on the patio while the kids explored around the yard and nearby fields.

My sons came in after a while, and I asked them to take little Don "craw-dadding" for a bit. So off the three went in the big pick-up, with buckets and dip-nets and bags, and we could see them out across the field, wading around in the water, and every now and then, we could see Don do a little caper and hear the excited whoops across the evening air.

They came back with a good-sized haul, about the time she and I got the burgers on the grill, and the little boy couldn't eat, for going back and back to look at his catch, gingerly capturing little escapees as they fled the pan.

They took the lucky little fellows back to the bayou after supper and released them back into the cool water, and after a it of clean-up, I drove them home.

Next day about two o'clock, she called me at work.

"Could we PLEASE go to your house again today? I'll bring the supper this time. Donny's DRIVING ME CRAZY wanting to do that again!"

And so we did. And I'm so glad, for I did not know at that time how very ill she was, and that that would be our last visit together. I hope that when the hard time came, that little desert-boy remembered the cool shady water and the fun of a Summer afternoon.