Photos by Susie Nelson
Lately it seems every newscast includes a story involving a shooting. Certainly the spotlight is shining brightly on gun control. Gun regulation is a volatile issue with strong points taken on both sides, making it a difficult issue to regulate fairly. Stirring the pot when it comes to the right to bear arms is not new, as evidenced with the date of Patrick Henry’s quote in the title of this piece.
Growing up in Nova Scotia, a hunting and fishing paradise, men took to the woods during hunting season in droves. Glassy eyed trophies of successful trips decorated walls of private lodges and country inns, the animals last expressions held fast by a skilled taxidermist’s needle. In the fall of my eighth year, I asked to accompany my uncle and two male cousins on such an outing. The women in my household were not firmly in agreement with my going, if not outright against it. In protest, my grandmother dressed me for protection that blustery fall morning. So many clothes were layered on my body I would have made a suitable understudy for the Pillsbury Doughboy. My hat, as I remember even had flaps covering both ears giving me the look like a pint-sized Amelia Earhart. Heavy boots were pulled on over woolen socks, and secured with strong metal grips. All were topped with a warm plaid jacket with a hood and gloves. I could barely move.
Where we were to go was not unfamiliar territory to me. Fred, my grandfather’s younger brother, ran a country store in a small town nearby. As a child I loved visiting my great-uncle. Summers a double scoop ice cream with my name on was scraped from the sticky tubs in Fred’s cooler into a sugary cone. Winters, Fred’s companion (or “housekeeper”, as my family referred to her as the two never married), Nan, would offer me a cup of steaming chocolate with melting marshmallows. Like a grown-up it was served to me in one of her delicate china cups accompanied by a generous piece of buttery melt in your mouth shortbread. Huge glass jars on the counters housed all manner of candies and sweets while others displayed boiled eggs in brine and enormous pickles. It was a junior foodies nirvana.
Standing by the pot belly stove in the cozy store that crisp morning, I waited while the men exchanged stories of the ones that got away and those not so fortunate. A gust of cold wind intruded on the circle of warmth emanating from the stove as the front door swung open. Standing in front of me was a man who stood as tall as I. Not knowing what to think of a grown man who met me eye to eye, I was struck silent. After a moment the unusual man extended a gloved hand in my direction, and by way of introduction said, “Benny, it is”. After he’d gone, the men spoke among themselves about the small man. A dwarf in size perhaps, but his prowess with a firearm elevated him to a position head and shoulders above other hunters in the area. Hunting, not a sport in his case but a means of putting meat on his table for his family, was a full-time affair during the high season and it was whispered off-season on occasion as well. Twice after that visit when in the area I spotted Benny from the Buick’s back window, dressed head to toe in red plaid heading towards the woods. Years later is was rumored a bear prematurely ended his hunting career.
As we entered the thick woods, echoes of my grandmother’s words rang in my ears. “Don’t stand to close to the guns. Keep your red hat on. Don’t wander off.”
Being asked to remain quiet for an eight year old, can make one hour pass like three. Told to sit behind my uncle and be still, I found myself looking up at the high tree branches above me and building a nest on the ground with the leaves around me. After what seemed like days, in the meadow before us a massive buck strode into view. Shortly, as if by magic two does materialized from the bushes behind him. Mesmerized, I watched the beautiful creatures sniff at the air then bend to nibble at the ground. Although having been told what to expect, when the shot rang out and the buck dropped to his knees I did what little girls do in such situations, I began to cry. Panicked, both does disappeared as quickly as they came. Men, their breath hanging suspended in the cold air, surrounded the dead animal. Knives were removed from their sheaths and expertly they field dressed their kill. It felt very primal to me, and I suddenly had to tinkle, as my grandmother would have put it. Sniffling and shuffling about, I was directed to a tree with cover and relieved myself.
Quiet without being asked to be I sat in the back seat on the ride home. On the roof the buck’s hooves tapped occasionally beneath the straps that held it. Never again did I ask to join a hunting expedition, and I didn’t have any experience with guns again until I was in my thirties.
Once home, my grandmother sensing my distress ran me a bath and dressed me in warm pajamas. Sitting on the side of my bed, she spoke to me of her childhood. Brought up on a farm as she had been, she explained, killing animals for food was a part of every day life. Farm children, at least in rural Ontario, weren’t encouraged to make “pets” of farm animals lest Miss Piggy or Nanny the goat be found starring in Sunday supper served nestled atop a savory dressing or alongside spiced crab apples. Life, as they say, does not always serve up easy lessons growing up.
Since then I’ve only shot a weapon once, a rifle. Being lightweight in frame, the moment I fired the recoil knocked me flat on the ground leaving a huge bruise where it was cupped in my shoulder. It was at that point I gave up all thoughts of a second career as a commando.
The problem is we can regulate the honest citizen in our country, but who’s going to regulate those with other than hunting a deer or a rabbit in mind? Our government has it nose firmly stuck in so many areas of our life sometimes it feels like nothing is sacred anymore, but I sit on the fence on this one. As usual only questions but no answers.
This is the best soup ever.
Turkey Tortilla Soup
2 Tbsp. plus 2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 1/4 lbs. ground turkey
1 large yellow onion, chopped
2 carrots sliced thin
1/4 cup green bell pepper, chopped
2 stalks of celery, sliced thin
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 cups frozen corn
1 pkg. Lawry’s taco seasoning
1/4 tsp. chili powder
1/4 tsp. cumin
1/4 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 15 oz. can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup sliced black olives
1 14 1/2 oz. can diced tomatoes w/jalapeno peppers, with juice
1 14 1/2 oz. can diced tomatoes, with juice
2 14 1/2 oz. cans chicken stock
2 cups water
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice
Garnish with sour cream, chopped green onion, cheddar cheese, and tortilla chips.
Heat 2 Tbsp. oil in large soup pot over med.-high heat. Add turkey and crumble. Cook until browned and cooked through. Drain on paper towels.
Add additional 2 Tbsp of oil to pan. Add yellow onion. Cook for 5-6 mins. until onion is translucent.
Add carrots, green pepper, and celery. Cook 7-8 mins. or until carrots are tender.
Stir in corn, garlic, taco seasoning, dry seasonings and cilantro. Add cooked turkey. Cook 2 mins. longer.
Stir in tomatoes, kidney beans, olives, chicken broth, water and lime juice. Bring to boil. Reduce heat and cook uncovered for 40 mins., stirring occasionally. Garnish with suggested garnishes. Yum
Good one Susan!
Thank you!
We’ve all got lots more questions than answers on this issue, I’m afraid. Great story, once again!
Yes, it truly is a tough one. I was married to a Texan. He grew up with guns and was taught early to respect them, but that certainly isn’t always the case. Thanks for reading, Cindy.
I love how you tell a story. It feels like we’re sitting around a campfire and I lean forward as the story progresses so that I won’t miss a word.
I grew up in Northern Ontario and I remember the men went hunting and fishing. They had to do so in season only and had to pay for a license to do so. I didn’t like seeing blood though. Also, I used to hold rabbits hind legs as my father skinned them. Couldn’t get that smell out of my hands. Ugh.
This soup looks delicious. It’s so cold out today, I must make some.
Tess, thank you so much. As to the campfire, love it. I’ll bring the marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate if you’ll bring the wine
In Arkansas I saw my neighbors gut a deer. Euuuuww. I don’t have the heart for it. I guess if there weren’t grocery stores I’d be a vegetarian.
This soup is really good. I’m not lying here. If you want to tone down the heat substitute a second can of diced tomatoes for the tomatoes with jalapenos.
Nova Scotia I been to a couple of time, but only in Halifax, but that was enough for me *smile – what a place, quite a few years ago now – sure it has changed.
We really struggled to get a good meal anywhere .. and it was cold cold in April. You, Americans, are just fantastic you can make soup of absolutely anything and make it look fantastic. Then you can make anything out Tortilla too. Love that pot or bowls of yours. I have a feeling that this soup will make my nose run. *smile
Viveka, I was born in Halifax. Rural Nova Scotia, however, is extraordinarily beautiful. The coastlines, valleys and fishing villages are definitely worth a visit. They have so many fine inns and restaurants these days.
Actually, I live in the U.S. but it still says Canada on my green card, but you’re right soup is a big deal here. This soup will definitely make your nose run. My ex-husband, a Texan, would often revert to his Texas roots after a cocktail or two. He was an excellent cook but his motto was “if it don’t make you sweat, it ain’t worth eatin”. Words to live by.
As to the bowls, I have a thing for intricate, beautiful bowls and plates. Can’t get enough. Thanks for noticing.
I am cold from the inside out today. My fingers and toes are almost numb and this soup looks like us the ticket to bring the sensations back into my extremities. Take care, BAM
BAM, it sort of heats you up from the inside out.
Have a great day and keep warm.
My Dad was a hunter and often brought home rabbits and pheasants, which I was taught to dress. I never saw the actual killing, though, and probably would have reacted much like you did. He brought home venison, too, but it was already dressed and I don’t recall if he shot it or one of the hunting party did and they shared the meat. After he retired, one Fall a big buck wandered out of the woods behind their home. Dad race to get and load his gun. As he took aim, the buck looked up and stared Dad down. He put his gun away and never took it out again.
Your tortilla soup sounds delicious, Susie. I like that the tortilla chips are a garnish and not stirred into the soup. I’m just not a fan of soggy chips and have been disappointed before when ordering the soup at restaurants. And if you want to feel like a real gringo, order tortilla soup without the tortillas.
Thanks for sharing a bit of your youth with us, Susie, as well as another great recipe.
John, I saw them dress a deer at a neighbor’s in Arkansas. There were two pre-teen boys standing nearby who lost their lunch during the worst of it. I wasn’t far behind. Wouldn’t have made a good surgical nurse for sure, although my grandmother was one. I don’t like to see anything hurt, upsets my soul.
I too don’t like soggy tortilla chips floating in my soup. These are more for scooping then souping, if you will. Once I made this and dropped small crispy hush puppies in on top. That was incredibly good.
Susie
Interesting stuff. I have never hunted, but fishing and gutting animals and slaughtering chickens has always been okay by me. INteresting!
Natalia, I’m not against hunting. Man has hunted since the beginning of time. I’m just not any good at doing it. Probably back in the day I would have been a berry and fruit kind of girl. As long as you consume what you catch or eat, I it is all part of the natural course of things. I love to fish myself. .
I can’t even put a worm on a fishing hook, let alone use a gun or bow to hunt an animal. Like you, I’d have to hope I could make it as a vegetarian if we didn’t have grocery stores. There are no easy answers to our current problems. I just wish there was a way to still have rational, respectful discussions in this country. Compromise is a fundamental tenet of democracy, and too many people have forgotten that fact.
JM, there are no easy answers, but perhaps if people started asking questions rather than accepting what is as what has to be. We could make a great salad if stranded together
I can’t quite ever be content with hunting, being a vegetarian it feels morally wrong but it is a way of human life therefore must be accepted.
I loved your recount of the story, it was so so vivid!
And your delicious recipe is sure to warm up everyone!
Cheers
CCU
As I said in my story, I’m on the fence on this subject. I eat meat, but I know that if I didn’t find it in plastic wrap at the market, I couldn’t. Sort of hypocritical, but there you are. Thank you re the writing!