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one or two in a small pod and not real big, the flavor was the best
of all. After all were gone we would still go out and maybe just by
chance one had been missed by everyone. If we were not careful we
might even grasp a vine that began to move, no vine but a snake,
usually a green snake or a black runner. These two are not poisonous
and couldn't hurt you, but they sure could make you hurt yourself,
getting away from them. We always had to keep an eye for any of the
bees that might be on one and not pick it up, or you get a quick
sting. Often there would be a wasp nest to contend with. The
scuppernong grapes made excellent jelly and jam and a great wine. The
grapevine was in the back portion of the chicken yard, which was very
big.

Once when Uncle Edwin was home, he and I thought how good some grapes
would taste and headed toward the arbor. Most of the time our
chickens were Rhode Island Reds, the roosters of which were not known
to be completely docile. We had walked about halfway between the gate
and the arbor, and one of the roosters, a younger one, decided he
didn't like Edwin. When we passed him, he made a run, jumped to spur
Edwin, but missed. The ole rooster turned to make another try, when
he got to Edwin and jumped, Edwin grabbed him, held his head and neck
loosely in his hand, spun him a few times and tucked his head under
his wing and gave him a toss. While flapping his wings, his head came
up for air, he landed on his feet. He stood there in a half standing,
half squating position, shaking his head trying to figure what had
happened. We proceeded to the grapevine and enjoyed the grapes, also
still chuckling about the roosters learning experience. Needless to
say, as long as he lived, when Uncle Edwin came around, he went the
other way. Besides he never tried to bother me anymore, either.

When Burnette thought we needed a fresh batch of wine made, we kids
got called on to help pick the grapes. We usually picked a No.l
washtub full, then mashed them by hand, fist it more like it. You
make a fist, put your arm in the tub of grapes and start mashing them
in the bottom of the tub. This could take a while. The grape pulp was
poured into a cloth sack, and squeezed to extract the juice. It was
strained into a large brown crockery urn in preparation to begin the
fermentation. Grape juice is very sweet naturally, but more sugar is
added to help the process along. Enough sugar was added for juice to
float an egg. The wine in making was always kept in the smokehouse,
it was cool in there. The urn was covered with a cloth, to keep out
bugs and allowed to do its thing. Before long the wine was made. It
was strained again to remove the last of any remaining pulp. When
made it didn't have to age anymore it had a very good taste. However,
we never got any unless it was for medicinal purposes.

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