The Bad Year

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The Bad Year3

You could almost feel the pressure of that year on your shoulders. 4

Spring had been cold and bitter, just an extension of winter, really. 5

Mama had been in a family way that spring, but she fell when we went 6

out to gather more logs. The fall sent her hard into the burl of a 7

piece of uncut wood. She landed with her stomach on the log and she 8

slid to the ground with a sad little moan.9

I ran to bang the emergency signal on the rusted bottom of an old 10

tub, pinned to the back porch with three-penny nails. After a dash to 11

get towels I went to Mama, who was white as snow and rocking herself 12

with her arms on her tummy. I mopped blood and brought water and mopped 13

blood some more. Lifting the hem of her gingham house dress, I could 14

see the pitiful little mass that would have been my baby sister.15


Mama healed about in time for the measles epidemic. Almost every door 16

had a red quarantine sign on it. I remember laying in the dark with the 17

curtains all drawn and a blanket on top of that. I almost died on a 18

Wednesday of March, just a month after my seventh birthday. Richard 19

was only 3 years-old, but he didn’t get a hard dose of it.20


Just a month after the measles I got the yellow jaundice and 21

again almost didn’t make it. Poor Mama was always tending some child. 22

Then the summer came hot and heavy and crops burned in the scorching 23

sun. Farmers didnt need workers for fields that were dead. Some sort of 24

weevil came along and food became scarce. Meat had run out early due to 25

the lack of summer’s garden offerings. Folks donated a little bit of 26

their meat so Mama could make me meat broth, because I wasn’t getting 27

well.28

Folks were praying for hunting season. Some folks took game out of 29

season, but no one in our family would ever do that. It wasn’t Godly 30

and it would put a pox on the hunts to come. Both grandparent sets 31

taught the same thing. One Irish and one German. Never disrespect the 32

Lord by disobeying the rules of the government.33


Poor people lived by a lot of superstitions. Things were done the 34

same way forever, or else you might be damned by changing the 35

traditions. It was coming close to elk camp and none of us wanted to 36

hex it. That meat meant survival or death. Men had to have good red 37

meat blood in their systems to stay strong for the many chores each man 38

had to attend to.39

We worked all summer, Mama and me, to sell butter and eggs and 40

Mama’s sewing, so we would have money for gas and bullets for the trek. 41

Daddy kept asking Mama if I was fit to go. She reassured him I was 42

fine, but I still was weak and coughed.43

There were over 100 people ready to leave Grammy’s barn that 44

magic morning. Men wouldn’t pray or show they were concerned, but the 45

women knelt down and asked a blessing on this camp. Without meat enough 46

again, people would die. Nobody got on the dole. Period.47

Mama made up the backseat like a bed, telling Daddy it was for Richard. 48

She packed a Mason jar with Grammy’s remedy and hid it under the 49

blankets. It was Grammy’s cure.50

and I hated every swallow. It tasted like gasoline and always made me 51

sleepy. I tried real hard to be okay. 52


I had been born with an uncanny closeness to animals. I never felt it, 53

but I loved animals. They would come to me when they wouldn’t go to any 54

other human. If I didn’t go to elk camp, the elk might be scarce and 55

that would touch every family in our group, blood family and chosen kin 56

alike.57

As we sat around the fire after the tent was up and chores were 58

done, the men would get out their guns, and the women too, oiling and 59

examining each one over and over. No bragging about great kills in the 60

past. Just firelight winking off those guns that would hopefully bring 61

us a bounty this year.62

Daddy looked over at his brother Earl’s gun and his face started 63

to go dark. Daddy was camp boss, and he had a temper fit to fly.

“What is that you’re holdin Earl?”64

Earl swallowed so big his Adam’s apple looked like it would pop 65

right out of his throat. “Its my gun.” Earl answered weakly.66

“Earl, that ain’t your gun. I know your gun, I’ve shot your gun 67

and that ain’t your gun!”68

Among the mens superstitions ran that a man used the same gun 69

until it wore out. Daddy knew what he was talking about. He went at 70

Earl with his sharp tongue until the poor, embarrassed man told the 71

story. Earl was a big eater and his family had gone through their 72

locker quicker than usual, then came the drought. Earl had sold his gun 73

to a guy from Whitefish for a supply of meat.74


We weren’t ignorant people, it was just the way of the times. Use 75

the same gun you have had luck with it every time. There was a hoo-76

rah-rah in camp that night. Daddy got up nose to nose with Earl, fists 77

tight at his side.78

I had closed my eyes and didn’t want to see any of it. 79


“Now, Chet, dang blast it - I got a gun,” Earl said, pushing the 80

gun in Daddys face.81

“It ain’t the same gun, Earl. You brought trouble right into this 82

camp! I oughta make you leave. . ..” 83

Then far off in the hills came the eerie bugle of a male elk. 84

Like an Irish faeri singing. Everyone hushed. Daddy realized finally 85

that his fuss with Earl might keep the elk away, so he sheepishly 86

offered Earl his hand. Daddy offered to look over the gun for his 87

brother. They sat side by side at the fire, doing those things men do 88

to guns. An apology and way to make up.”89


Mama told me to stay close to camp and the fire. She knew I 90

wouldn’t. I belonged in the forest, peace came over me there and the 91

illness seemed to melt a little bit. I went to the clearing where I had 92

first seen an elk up close. As I looked up into the hills I could feel 93

something watching me. Didn’t know if it was an elk or bear or what. I 94

didn’t understand it then, but I was born without a fear of animals, 95

and a kinship with them.96

In the morning the first hunters went out. Auntie Milly came by to 97

watch us kids as Mama and Daddy headed out for a hike through the far 98

hills. We weren’t allowed to go in the woods when hunters were out. 99

Bullets flying never cared where they landed. A wounded animal would 100

kill anything in its way. So I helped Auntie Milly with my brother and 101

made myself useful doing camp chores.102

Daylight was getting old and we still hadn’t heard any gunshots. 103

By noon there had been no shots. Late afternoon there was one shot and 104

Milly and I grinned at each other.105

The men didn’t carry in a kill. They carried in Uncle Earl who 106

had a bloody bandage on his foot. Everything stopped while we tended to 107

him. Seems he had shot himself in the foot with the cursed gun. Barely 108

took off enough skin to count, but Daddy acted like Judgment Day was 109

about to come upon us.110

One full day at elk camp and no kill, or prospect of one. That 111

didn’t bode well for our hunt. Daddy and Earl argued about Earl going 112

on the next day’s hunt. Earl insisted he was fine and could hold his 113

own.114

Without thinking, I said, “Uncle Earl, if you go out like this, the 115

scent of blood could draw something your way that you wouldn’t want, 116

and it might mess up the area, with elk and deer running off to another 117

place.” 118

I expected a good smack to the head for being mouthy, but Daddy 119

just said, “Girl’s right. Stay at camp.”120

One of the aunties made a poultice for Earl’s toe. She was 121

careful not to use bear grease, in case we might find ourselves with a 122

stray, late bear wandering in to camp, looking for his fellow bear – 123

that was now rendered into salve.124

The second day was an eerie blur of silence. Not one shot all day. The 125

hunters trailed back, tired and discouraged. I could see the worry in 126

every eye. It was quiet at the fire and everyone drifted off to their 127

sleeping places early. I could hear them talking softly to each other, 128

desperate and filled with tension.129


Before the stars had even left the sky I was awakened by Mama, who 130

whispered in my ear that I needed to go to the fire. Daddy asked me if 131

I felt any elk in the area, if not we would leave and go Upwoods again. 132

So I looked all around, thinking deeply. After a few minutes I found 133

myself pointing to a ridge of hills out to the southwest. “Now, Chet, 134

that girl doesn’t know nothing. You let her run wild in her mind and 135


this is what happens. Ain’t no elk up on that ridge. Never been any elk 136

out that way. I say we go back to where we been goin, try again. Aubrey 137

Rogers was the husband to my Aunt Corrie. He thought I was just trying 138

to get attention.139


“NO!” Daddy thundered until his voice echoed. “None of us say the 140

girl is special. And none of us think she’s making up. I never 141

had a hair of trouble with this one. Won’t hurt none to give it try. 142

Anyone wants to go different is welcome. The people cheered and drew up 143

into groups. Two men and their wives went with Aubrey and the rest 144

lined up with Daddy. The adults hunkered down and Daddy drew maps in 145

the dirt with a stick. Then they were off. 146

All the fracas so early in the morning had done me in. Auntie 147

Milly gave me a swig of Grammie’s cure and I fell back asleep. I 148

dreamed, and in the dream were herds of elk, grazing and pushing their 149

hot snouts through the iced over grass.150

A shot rang out and I jumped out of bed straight up. Pulling on 151

my boots I went out to the fire where Aunt Millie was feeding Richard 152

mush. She looked at me, turned and pointed off to the southeast. I sat 153

on a log by the fire, arms around myself.154

Eight shots total went off during the day. One them came from 155

where Uncle Earl had headed at first light. There was no way of knowing 156

how many shots hit their target, and there might be others up in the 157

hills too.158


Uncle Earl and his group came in first. Poor Earl was limping 159

even worse than the morning. He glared at me and I stuck my tongue at 160

him. Seems the blood from his foot had attracted some kind of wild cat 161

that thought he might be a tasty breakfast.162

He made a big fuss about his wound and Auntie Sissy tended to it. 163

She had been a nurse, and she knew Uncle Earl would be a big baby until 164

someone gave him some attention. She was bent over a water basin with 165

Earl’s toe in it when a holler came faint off in the distance. Uncle 166

Charlie knew how to do the rebel yell and he whooped it up good. Aunt 167

Millie and I knew there would meat at supper this night.168

Out of the eight shots fired, three elk were downed, and Uncle Earl’s 169

didn’t count, so they had had a good hunt. Millie and the other Aunties 170

gathered their charges together and Milly watched over the children 171

while the others went to set up the slaughter ground. The men had 172

built a big rack near a tree that had branches strong enough to bear 173

the rope that would haul the elk up.174

Daddy and Charlie came in first. They were elders, so some young 175

boys carried their kills to the tree. Daddy came up to me, looked me in 176

the eye. I held my breath, not just a little bit afraid. ‘You done it, 177

girl,” he said. My daddy had never mentioned my gift before, not in a 178

right out way. 179

In the next few days every single tag for our group was filled. Some of 180

the elk were bigger than average and the tension about eating through 181

the winter eased. The men had tied the carcasses up in a tree in a 182

canvas sling. Then they took turns standing guard so no cougars or 183

other predators couldn’t get to them. Salted down and bundled, the meat 184

froze in the air and would make it last back to home.185

I guess I did inherit Grammy’s Irish gift. To this day I know things 186

and never figure out how. I try to remember if I felt anything when I 187

pointed out southeast, and know ‘feeling’ is sometimes felt in a way188

breathing feels. It’s just there. 189

end
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