-- Cranberry Picking
The Viburnum trilobum, or high bush cranberry as it was known in Saskatchewan where I grew up, has pretty white blossoms that adorn the plant in the late spring and are followed by large clusters of bright red berries by the end of summer. In fall the foliage is breathtakingly beautiful. This species of high bush cranberry can grow to from two to four metres tall. While the berries are not a favourite of many birds, they certainly were a favorite of our family. We used the berries in the making of jellies because of its tart flavor.
We had some cranberry bushes on our farm but the best picking was in the boggy area near the Assiniboine River. These were densely treed areas with many shrubs growing in between the trees. One had to hike in a ways from the municipal road allowances. You also had to be "bush-wise" as it was very easy to get lost in the dense undergrowth.
One fine Sunday afternoon, my father dropped my Mom and me off near a prime picking area. It was a beautiful sunny day with a temperature in the mid-teens Celsius, or around 60F if you are "old school". He agreed to come back in three hours and pick us up. He then left to go home to work on a project he had going.
Mom and I set off with our pails and soon we were far into the bush carefully picking our way through the wet patches until we came to a large growth of cranberry bushes. We started to strip the clumps of berries into our pails. We each had 2 pails as we were only going to be able to do one picking. Each pail had about a 16 litre capacity.
As we picked we carried on a desultory conversation. She moved one direction with her picking while I slowly picked in the other direction. We were not careful with our picking. Berries, leaves, and some twigs went into the pail. All would be separated at home when we went through the berries culling out the bad ones.
Soon all that could be heard was the tearing off of the berries and the sound they made as they were dropped into the pail with the other berries. After about an hour I had a pail of berries. I set them down and began to fill the other pail. Over the noise of the berries hitting the bottom of the empty pail, I noticed that the bush was being picked from the other side. I hadn't realized that my mom had changed directions and was now picking close to me. I started to talk to Mom telling her that I had already filled one pail and asking her about her picking. She didn't answer and continued to pluck at the berries. I repeated my question and again when she didn't answer, I assumed that she was in a picking trance. You know. You pick and while you pick, your mind is in other places as picking does not require much brain power. I raised my voice to break into her reverie.
Suddenly from about 50 feet away, I heard her asking me if I wanted something. If she was there, then who was picking on the other side? I got a very serious feeling in my gut that I wasn't going to like the answer. I slowly and carefully parted the bush so that I could peek to the other side. There on its hind legs was a black bear holding a branch with its paws while it stripped the berries off with its snout. Fortunately it was only engrossed with eating berries and not in tasting some pre-teenage flesh.
I quickly grabbed the full pail and quietly made haste in the direction of where I had heard my mom's voice. I alerted her to my encounter. Except for turning ashen faced, she didn't say anything. We made off back in the direction of the road allowance. We went as quietly as we could but we both knew that had the bear wanted to catch up with us he would have been there in a flash.
When we got to the road allowance, we hastily set off in the direction from which my dad would be coming in about another hour. We kept glancing backward expecting to see the bear emerging from the bush in pursuit of us. After about ten minutes of walking and still no bear, we slowed down but continued to put distance between us and the bear. We evened up the berries in the pails to make it easier to carry them.
Slowly the color was returning to my mother's face, and when she realized that we were now out of immediate danger, she started a nervous giggle. We had gone berry picking with a bear and we had lived to tell about it. I for one was glad that the bear had berries on its mind and that it hadn't taken exception to two humans "horning" in on its patch!
That winter the cranberry jelly tasted exceptionally delicious and each time we put some on our bread, my mom and I would exchange a knowing glance and a smile.
The Viburnum trilobum, or high bush cranberry as it was known in Saskatchewan where I grew up, has pretty white blossoms that adorn the plant in the late spring and are followed by large clusters of bright red berries by the end of summer. In fall the foliage is breathtakingly beautiful. This species of high bush cranberry can grow to from two to four metres tall. While the berries are not a favourite of many birds, they certainly were a favorite of our family. We used the berries in the making of jellies because of its tart flavor.
We had some cranberry bushes on our farm but the best picking was in the boggy area near the Assiniboine River. These were densely treed areas with many shrubs growing in between the trees. One had to hike in a ways from the municipal road allowances. You also had to be "bush-wise" as it was very easy to get lost in the dense undergrowth.
One fine Sunday afternoon, my father dropped my Mom and me off near a prime picking area. It was a beautiful sunny day with a temperature in the mid-teens Celsius, or around 60F if you are "old school". He agreed to come back in three hours and pick us up. He then left to go home to work on a project he had going.
Mom and I set off with our pails and soon we were far into the bush carefully picking our way through the wet patches until we came to a large growth of cranberry bushes. We started to strip the clumps of berries into our pails. We each had 2 pails as we were only going to be able to do one picking. Each pail had about a 16 litre capacity.
As we picked we carried on a desultory conversation. She moved one direction with her picking while I slowly picked in the other direction. We were not careful with our picking. Berries, leaves, and some twigs went into the pail. All would be separated at home when we went through the berries culling out the bad ones.
Soon all that could be heard was the tearing off of the berries and the sound they made as they were dropped into the pail with the other berries. After about an hour I had a pail of berries. I set them down and began to fill the other pail. Over the noise of the berries hitting the bottom of the empty pail, I noticed that the bush was being picked from the other side. I hadn't realized that my mom had changed directions and was now picking close to me. I started to talk to Mom telling her that I had already filled one pail and asking her about her picking. She didn't answer and continued to pluck at the berries. I repeated my question and again when she didn't answer, I assumed that she was in a picking trance. You know. You pick and while you pick, your mind is in other places as picking does not require much brain power. I raised my voice to break into her reverie.
Suddenly from about 50 feet away, I heard her asking me if I wanted something. If she was there, then who was picking on the other side? I got a very serious feeling in my gut that I wasn't going to like the answer. I slowly and carefully parted the bush so that I could peek to the other side. There on its hind legs was a black bear holding a branch with its paws while it stripped the berries off with its snout. Fortunately it was only engrossed with eating berries and not in tasting some pre-teenage flesh.
I quickly grabbed the full pail and quietly made haste in the direction of where I had heard my mom's voice. I alerted her to my encounter. Except for turning ashen faced, she didn't say anything. We made off back in the direction of the road allowance. We went as quietly as we could but we both knew that had the bear wanted to catch up with us he would have been there in a flash.
When we got to the road allowance, we hastily set off in the direction from which my dad would be coming in about another hour. We kept glancing backward expecting to see the bear emerging from the bush in pursuit of us. After about ten minutes of walking and still no bear, we slowed down but continued to put distance between us and the bear. We evened up the berries in the pails to make it easier to carry them.
Slowly the color was returning to my mother's face, and when she realized that we were now out of immediate danger, she started a nervous giggle. We had gone berry picking with a bear and we had lived to tell about it. I for one was glad that the bear had berries on its mind and that it hadn't taken exception to two humans "horning" in on its patch!
That winter the cranberry jelly tasted exceptionally delicious and each time we put some on our bread, my mom and I would exchange a knowing glance and a smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment