I lived on the West Bank of New Orleans, Gretna, La. specifically.
Next door to me was an old Cajun boy who didn't work, had not worked in years---and was not going too work ifin he could pull it off.
We were friends and visted often.
One Saturday morning, bout 7/8 am he comes over and ask if I want to go have a beer---Louisiana, remember---sure, I aint doin nothin.
We ran on down the road to Belle Chase, then a little old country Cajun town. I don't remember the name of the place but it was not the first time I had been there.
I do remember that the parking lot was dirt and there were no other places around there. The roof was corrigated tin and it sat upabout 3 feet off the ground. Thats a good thing around those parts.
It really was just a big screened in place. The windows were just shutters propped up by poles and the holes covered by screen.
There was something of a bar all across one end and the place must have been about 30X30. It had a big ol cooking stove behind the bar and something was always cooking--though, too call it a resturant would have been a stretch.
Now, I have never been in a joint in S La that didn't look much the same or didn't cook.
We were not the only patrons that morning, place was fairly busy. I guess we had just missed the morning crowd, but there were three or four tables of folks.
We had had a couple of bottles of Dixie beer and this ol boy walked in the screened door , looked around, and tossed a tow sack into the place.
It kinda got my attention, well, I guess because it was moving around.
Then it got to really moving around.
Finally whatever was inside that tow sack found the opening. I was gingerly climbing on top of the table as the sack was only about 4 feet from me. I wasn't the only one, my friend in crime was already on the table.
Out of this sack came about 40 pounds of pissed off snapping turtle.
Now there was the bartender, a female and the waitress. They didn't seem at all distraught about the goings on. Meanwhile back on the dance floor everbody just climbed on their tables and put their feet in the chairs. That ol turtle was looking for somebody too bite.
You know, I had never studied a snapping turtles habits up close like that, specially one that was so mad.
Then somebody found a broom. That certainly didn't help out the disposition of that turtle. I guess, if I thought about it, I would have been pissed off also and sum smart ass punching me with a broom handle would not have calmed me down.
Anywho, this ol boy, who evidently was versed in the way of turtles, kept popping it on the head. Well, until the turtle got hold of the broomstick. Put a big dent in it as I recall.
Now the waitress was hardly payin no mind too the turtle and was still serving beer---she was watching it out of the corner of her eye though.
The lady behind the bar never said a thing. She kept looking at that turtle with a strange look on her face.
She picked up a pot, looked at the turtle and put the pot up. Then she found just the pot she wanted and filled it with water and turned the heat on. It was almost as if she just ignored that old turtle--which wasn't the case with me.
That dagone turtle was under MY table and it was this spot that he had chosen too make his last stand. Made me mad cause I wanted another beer.
The waitress had obviously been there and done that before. She just stepped up on the chair next to the closet table, then on to the table, then on to the chair next too me and gave me my beer.
You know, them ol snappers is real quick.
About 20 minutes passed and I was now playing broom stick with the turtle. Boys, they can get a hell of a grip on a broomstick.
All of a sudden the bartender came from behind the bar--I can tell you she was no novice to this situation either.
While the turtle and I were playing broomstick, she grabbed the turtle by the tail, lifted him up at arms length and walkedtowards the kitchen. I am being real liberal with the term kitchen boys.
She had the turtle by the tail in one hand an the pot lid in the other. good thing too, she could shield off the snapper with it. I digress, til she got to the pot of boiling water. In went the snapper and on went the lid---she clamped down on that lid real hard---which was a good thing--and the turtle went mad-- I guess he wasn't used to warm baths--for a few minutes.
She boiled that turtle, took it out, peeled the shell off and with a fork, cleaned the meat out of that turtle. Made a heck of a soup.
None too late either, as we was well into our second six pack by the time the soup was done and I was real hungry.
Blessings
