The Shade Tree Okie (Home)

Grandma Scrimshire (Maude) Bitten by a Water Moccasin

Swimming & Bathing in the Pond with Rusty

Cutting Holes in the Ice so Rusty and Cows Could Drink

So let’s start with my most memorable and vivid experiences growing up around water.  

Dad and I and sometimes Sherrie my sister used it to take a bath in, play in, Fish in, hunt frogs in, and encountered many a Venomous Water Moccasin in.

We all got good at telling the difference between Water Moccasin and a harmless water snake. While they look the same but they sure didn’t act the same! 

When you walked up on a Water Moccasin they would just slowly slither away or not move at all but a water snake would quickly slither away from you.  

As they would move about in a pond, with a water snake all you see is his head sticking out of the water as he swims but with the Water Moccasin you would see his head & his whole body swimming across the pond – no mistaking which was which. 

My grandma Scrimshire was bitten by a water moccasin as she was fishing on the creek near her house. We thought we were going to lose her to the poison rushing through her body as Dad & Grandpa raced her to the doctor in Okemah. They had already cut open a bite and it sucked out of a considerable amount of the poison! Yes you heard right! Sucked out. They always said and it was true that when you got bit by Water Moccasin you’ll know who your friends are! 

With an urgency I’ve never seen in my dad he sucked as hard as he could on the ankle bite wound resting every few minutes to take a breath! I just cried and kept saying hurry please hurry! Grandpa never said a word but drove as fast as the old truck would go. Grandma kept saying ‘don’t worry I’ll be ok!’. We made it time and she quickly recovered. Everyone back then thought sucking out the venom was what you should do but now they say it just complicates things so not to do it…. 

So as you can see being raised around water was both interesting and dangerous. 

I can’t ever remember not being able to swim! Pretty much by the time I was able to walk I could swim. That was true of most of my friends. I do recall the first thing we all learn to do in the water was to float and I was good at that. I could float for hours just enjoying the pond. 

Seldom did we go frog hunting or fishing and not catch anything. My dad would say hey Rock can you get us a mess of frog legs or fish for supper this evening! Most of the time I would come through. 

Yeah we called a nice portion of food a mess. Mom would say well I’m gonna fix a mess of green beans or a mess of fried potatoes! And it probably was a mess, a mess to cook up, a mess to clean up and with some food items a mess to eat. Maybe the word was derived from the military use of a mess hall and a mess kit.

Ponds were fun but important. From day one it was both a source of income and food and water. Both for the farmer and their family and for the domestic animals in addition to the wild animals. Even if the creeks dried up farm ponds seldom did. If a well dried up, as they sometimes did, water could be hauled from a pond for domestic use. 

Under soil conservation guidelines the government paid each dry land farmer for building a pond. They were built to keep the topsoil from washing away! 

The farm pond I grew up around was dug by a team of my grandpa Ennis’s work horses! They were beautiful majestic animals and could pull a big scoop shovel for hours! You could tell they loved to work! 

It would take a good week or two to dig a nice size pond with a team of horses and in just one rainy season it would fill up to the spillway! If it wasn’t built correctly the dam would bust and render the pond useless. 

The spillway (near the dam) was used to divert overflow water into the creek and eventually into the river! Most of the soil that was washed into the pond remained in the pond! Ever now and then some ponds had to be drained and the rich topsoil was scooped up and used in the gardens and fields to grow food and crops! 

My fondest memories of the pond was when, in the summertime usually starting in April, with soap, shampoo and a wash rag in hand, I would ride Rusty down to the pond, out into the water to take a bath! Most of the time I stayed on his back to accomplish that task but every now and then from the soapy suds that collected on Rusty‘s back I would slide into the water and would have to wash the suds off before I could clam back on Rusty‘s back and ride him out of the pond. By time I got back to the house I was dry – I didn’t say clean I said dry – but that was so fun…. 

I did have a saddle but because I loved to ride Rusty into the ponds and across creeks and in the rain, I seldom put a saddle on Rusty. Almost always riding him bareback. Yes water is not good for leather but water mixes very good and so fun when mixed with a Kid and his favorite horse….

Sometimes Joey Vitoskey (Who i discussed in some detail in a previous chapter) would join me for a ride on his horse (seems like now I remember his horse his name was King) and he almost always rode King with a saddle, which meant he almost always had to tie the horse up while we played but not so with Rusty he was always part of the fun! 

Seldom did I feel the need to tie Rusty up when I was out riding him being as how no matter where we were at or what we were doing if I just dropped  the reins to the ground he would never wonder off far. Usually content to graze nearby & almost always within sight of me. Just a quick whistle and Harry would come trotting up ready to go and play some more… 

Next to Mitchel, Rusty was my best friend!

Once a pond filled up (at least 1/2 full) the pond was stocked by the farmer! My Dad would get permission from other farmers to sein a small section of their pond to stack ours! He would pick a pond that was full of bass and crappie and mostly free of carp, suckers and gar. 

Many farmers that built new ponds would ask my Dad to come stock it for them! Not a easy job so my Dad would do it for fishing rights on the pond! They knew he would do it right & they knew he wouldn’t abuse the privilege of fishing in the pond! He never left a gate open or trash at the pond and he often shared his catch with the land owners, care takers or renters of the property he was fishing (or for that matter hunting) on. 

Me Dad was know as one of the best fisherman in the county! When anyone wanted to go fishing and really catch fish they would come to dad. He knew which ponds the fish were biting and which ponds they weren’t biting at. If you did as he said and did you would most likely go away feeling like you were finally a true fisherman. 

My Dad worked hard and played just as hard! If you went fishing with Dad it was intense… he loved all kinds of fishing! Fly fishing, rod fishing, trot line fishing, wading tube fishing and noodling. He fished lakes, creeks, ponds, rivers, drifts, swamps and lagoons. He used live bait, worms, grass hoppers & lures. He really was good at fishing but he worked so hard at being good that he would wear you out just trying to keep up with him! Needless to say his style of fishing (using everything at his disposal) weeded out those who didn’t take fishing seriously! 

I always hung in there with him but once on the pond I would often find a shade, kick back, and let dad find out where the fish were biting! My preferred method was fishing with live bait on a hook with a bobbing cork! Once I got a nibble and the cork went under I would pull them in! Put them on a fish stringer and go back to fishing! It was against Dads law to catch a fish & just throw them up on the bank of the pond. 

Sometimes if the fish were biting pretty good, the smaller fish, if the hook didn’t damage them too badly was released back into the water… 

As I leisurely sat on the bank of the pond fishing with a cork my dad was zooming all around the pond testing it here and testing it they’re looking for the big catch or for a school of crappie or bass (smallmouth or widemouth) that was biting.

Every now and then I would reel in my cork & live bait fishing rig, take the cork off, put on a bottom fishing rig and fish for catfish! Catfish were known bottom feeders. Channel and blue catfish were the best eating.  A Mud-cat, also called a flat head, while usually bigger, was not as tasty as a channel or blue cat. 

Dad would often finish the day with a big stringer of fish and he would literally be covered in sweat, sticks, stems, leaves and yes even leeches! My catch was almost always smaller but that never bothered me because I usually found a good comfortable place to fish. Dad would just shake his head as he looked at my meager stringer of fish and say well it look likes you did OK rock so let’s go home and you can clean and eat all the fish you caught…. But when we got home we both cleaned all the fish together whether I caught any or not! 

Even though we butchered a pig and a cow each year, beef and pork was not our main staple of food, it was wild game and fish! 

Fact is Dad could catch fish better than anybody anywhere, my little Mom could fry fish better than anybody anywhere and all of us – grandparents, cousins neighbors and friendsincluded – love to eat fish .. especially those cooked by Mom! 

One thing about living on a farm was we ate good….

I learned early that fishing with Dad could be exhausting so while I admired his skill and determination to catch fish I developed my skills and determination around enjoying fishing! I could fish all day, catch nothing & have a great day fishing! Not true with Dad! It was all about the catch! I loved catching fish also but even even above going fishing I loved eating freshly fried fish! 

The only times I would hesitate going with the dad was when he was fishing in the creek because each little water hole in a creek was small and they were not always close together so he would Walk for miles fishing in each little fishing hole catching just a few little perch but the man loved to fish… perch were fun to catch but they were bony as hell to eat. 

I also wasn’t much for fishing from a boat because the boat was hard to sleep in but the soft grass on a pond Bank was not! Whether he was catching fish or not my dad was never still period… It’s how he live his life until he had his stroke – he played hard and he worked hard! I know this sounds like a contradiction but Dads play and work ethics taught me the value of going easy and enjoying the smaller things in life!  He was never able to do that cause with him it was always go and go hard but with me it was always about the going…. I loved just to go!!!!

One of the more unpleasant and difficult challenges when it comes to a pond was cutting the ice in the winter so that the cows & Rusty could drink out of the pond. It was cold, and I thought somewhat dangerous and involved using an axe to cut a hole on ice that was so thick it wouldn’t likely melt during the day so the hole had to be cut and the trunks raped out so the cattle could drink!

Don’t take what I’m about to say lightly! I’ve been all over the world. Meet many people I admired and looked up to but no one played and worked as hard as my Day & I never meet anyone who could keep up with him at work or at play! Your grandpa and grandma Scrimshire were surely unique and one of a kind (often larger than life) in their on ways. 

I’m planning on writing a whole chapter just about my life’s experience noodling with my dad and my uncle Leland and John Ford! Three of the best noodlers in Oklahoma!