Tipper, Chitter, and The Deer Hunter picking blackberries
“Some of my fondest, most enduring childhood memories of growing up in the Smokies center on countless spring, summer, and fall days spent plucking the fruits of the good earth and nature’s rewarding labor. Foremost among these were berry picking during the late spring and summer months, although there were also the pleasures aplenty that involved gathering walnuts, hazelnuts, fox grapes, and persimmons in the fall of the year. I spent considerable time picking wild strawberries, raspberries, dewberries, and blueberries but the biggest portion of my youthful efforts focused on the ever abundant blackberry. Some of these pursuits provided welcome pocket money, brought the joy of seeing a big smile on Mom’s face, or gave me the “grown up” feeling of knowing I had contributed something to the family table. Without exception they offered an unfolding panoply of taste delights. All in all it was glorious fun and even today I derive a great deal of satisfaction from the simple act of picking.”
—Jim Casada – Fishing for Chickens
I’ve always enjoyed working at something that showed a clear outcome at the end. Blackberry picking is certainly one of those things.
If you’re picking wild blackberries like we were in the photo above, you are fighting the briars, weeds, bees, bugs, and snakes for those jewels of sweetness. Being able to look down into your bucket and see a pile of berries makes all the effort worthwhile.
Even tame blackberries take work to harvest. About the only thing you’re saved from on them is the briars.
Granny used to put on a pair of Pap’s old pants and one of his long sleeve button up shirts to pick blackberries in. She’d add one of his hats, an old pair of boots, grab a hoe to ward off snakes and take off down the road in search of blackberries. Lucky for us she always found them.
At the time I sort of teased her about her get up. All these years later I see what a labor of love she was doing for her family and herself.
Granny isn’t really an outdoor type of person except for when it comes to gardening or gathering fruits and nuts. She’s deathly afraid of snakes, lizards, bees, and most bugs. Yet she donned her outfit for protection took her hoe just in case she came across old no shoulders and picked berries so that she could make blackberry jelly and and all sorts of desserts for her family.
As Jim said, there is something so very rewarding about picking bounty from the good earth to feed yourself and your family.
If you haven’t picked up your copy of Jim’s great book Fishing for Chickens you should. You can go here to find it.
Last night’s video: Pulling Up Tomato Plants.
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A fond childhood memory indeed for this city girl! Granddaddy, aka Blue, would wear a canvas sling type bag to put the berries in. His traditional clothing for everyday work on the farm was denim overalls and denim blue shirt. Daddy would stick his pants hem in his socks and spray insect repellent around his ankles, waist, underarms, any where a chigger might burrow. I followed his method. Grandmother always had blackberries in the freezer and would whip up a cobbler lickety-split! Blackberry remains my favorite cobbler, with peach my second. Years ago I told a friend I was excited to go pick blackberries and she said “you know you can buy them already picked!” Well, bless her heart! It’s the experience, not the fruit. Thanks for all the memories you all share! Blessings from NX Georgia.
I looked, but I don’t remember seeing anyone say they wore rags dipped in kerosene tied around their wrists and ankles. This always made my eyes water, but it kept the chiggers away!
hi Tipper the mention of snakes reminds me of being at my sister-in-Laws and being excited seein the blueberries .but not seeing the snakes,wow what a surprise, thanks for the memory
Tipper, This doesn’t have anything to do with blackberries, but my momma used to plant 2 rows of corn, then 2 weeks later plant another 2 rows of corn, then 2 weeks later plant another 2 rows of corn, etc. until she had planted as much corn as she was willing to grow. That way it came on more gradually all season long. Mmmm I miss fresh free corn, and tomatoes, and cucumbers. I didn’t know what I had until I had moved out a long time. 🙂 Take care, Kara
We always tried to take a dog with us when we picked blackberries. It would run around upinunder the briars and alert to snakes and whatever else it found. Rattlesnakes will at least try to warn you but copperheads bite when you least expect it.
We picked berries into a “lunch bucket”. It was really a #10 metal can that the lunchroom at school would get vegetables in. The lunch ladies would leave them on the back stoop of the kitchen for anybody who wanted them could get them. They were handy to have around because, heaped up, they held a gallon. We used them to pick strawberries and blackberries.
Strawberries were easy to pick. We grew them to sell. They were sweet and juicy. They were grown to pick and eat, not to ship across the country. I always picked the ripest ones. They only had to make it to the house. People came to our door to buy them. We charged a dollar a gallon for them. I could pick a gallon on average in ten minutes. Daddy paid me ten cents for every gallon I picked. I thought I was rich. Sixty cents an hour!
We didn’t sell blackberries. Mommy canned every one she could get her hands on. One hundred quarts was always her goal. One hundred quarts each of blackberries, green beans, apples and peaches. One hundred quarts of blackberries are a lot of scratches, scrapes, bites and stings.
My Dad talked about picking blackberries in the 30’s during the Depression. He sold them for 10 cents a gallon. The money helped pay for food. He would have been 7-9 years old. They pretty much lived on blackberry cobbler in the summer. He loved it until he died. I have lived such a privileged and sheltered life.
Tipper, I have to ask. Do you all have “dewberries”? They look just like blackberries but they run on the ground and only rise 6 inches high or so. They like a sandy soil, often found in and around yellow pines.
Lawdy, lawdy We pick plenty of blackberries when I was a kid. Even after I was married. My mom was so fast at picking them. She had me beat in a heart beat. I don’t know how she did it and daddy was fast too. After I was married she call me one day and said I’ve found a whole hillside of blackberries. Meet me in the morning and we get em . I said ok. We picked and picked all day. I can’t remember how many gallons we had but we were selling them to have extra money. I had chiggers like crazy. I quit counting at 50 there were too many. I was miserable. Let’s say I didn’t go the next day but I did the day after. I sprayed myself with Off and never got another chigger. Thank the good Lord.
The very worst case of chiggers I ever had was from picking blackberries. I don’t think I’ve done any serious picking since them . . . nigh on to 70 years ago.
Blessings to all . . .
I fire up my chain saw and set it on the ground on one side of a patch. I then watch the snakes leave out the other side. They don’t like the vibrations. If you get near a wasp or yellow jacket nest you may as well move to another briar. The other bees won’t bother you. Bees only protect their home. If they are gathering , they plan to carry it back home.
I had not heard the term old “no shoulder” in a long time. I first heard it from a old black man I learned a lot from as a boy in SC.
As a younger person, I was covered in chiggers whether picking blackberries or not, but I surely love Blackberry jelly and pie!
I also grew up picking blackberries not only for our cobblers and jelly but to sell at
$.50 per gallon….
My mom, sister , grandpa and I would get all covered up and head to the pastures which were covered in blackberry vines..usually around July 4th. After our buckets were full we headed home , stripped off our blackberry picking clothes my mom would make a pan of hot buttermilk biscuits and we ate biscuits jelly..yum! I can still smell her biscuits
Thank you for helping me remember these precious life experiences and for sharing .
Only picked Blackberries one time that I can remember. The large batch of chiggers I gathered was enough to keep me out of the blackberry patch for good.
Mom dressed just like Granny when she picked berries. She didn’t own a pair of pants so when she dressed in daddy’s clothes the kids had a big laugh and so did she. We lived in rattlesnake country and the kids were never allowed to help pick berries because of that. The blackberries around here are tiny this year. It would take forever to pick enough to make a cobbler or a pot of dumplings if the deer left any for me.
I remember picking blackberries as I was growing up and the dang chiggers that we always got,
no matter how well protected we thought we were, but nothing beats the taste of a fresh blackberry
or warm blackberry cobbler, topped with vanilla ice cream.
Blessings to you, Tipper, and all my friends who celebrate Appalachia!
My grandmother had a similar get-up to Granny’s that she used when picking blackberries. She didn’t carry a hoe, but her ever present walking stick was by her side. She made wonderful jam and jelly as well as cobblers from those delicious berries. I’d love to pick berries with her just one more time.
I don’t remember ever picking blackberries (city girl), but I’ve picked strawberries and plenty of them! My mother’s oldest sister, Thelma, made the best blackberry pie. It was my sister’s favorite. Take care and God bless ❣️
Fishing for Chickens does sound like a tremendously great read, so I’m sold! I can just see your little mother all “geared up in Pap’s old clothing and hat” to get her some blackberries! We had aplenty then a rain came and all I see dried up and withered so what was in that rain? “Nothing to see or ask so please move along.” I love the picture of you 3 picking berries and I see Deer Hunter went low while you gals went high seeking berries. I will bet you cleaned up a bunch that way! Just several winters ago, we got iced pretty good and I had to go outdoors to check the mail. I donned a cook pot on my noggin for protection and out the door I went- and safely returned with noggin intact and no concussion from falling ice or branches. Looks? It ain’t about looks- they’re fleeting at best. Let’s be safe period. Y’all have a great day and go barefoot to please the hillbilly in ya!
I don’t ever go barefoot, never did! I go barefooted!
All part that goes into gathering from the wild and bringing to the table adds value. And all the value added brings satisfaction along the way and especially at the end. The Lord knows us better than we do ourselves and requires “reasonable service” under the easy yoke. We have the satisfaction of knowing we invested a small part of ourselves.
We’re pickin wild blackberries all over our farm! Lots of brambles. We ended the rein if a giant timber rattler unfortunately for him.
Blessings
I also grew up picking blackberries. We’d gather up waterbuckets and coffee cans to put them in and never came off the coal bank hill ’til they were all full. Grandma, Mom, my cousin and I would dress up in our ‘armor’ to help keep away the chiggers, scratches and snakes. It’s a memory I will never forget.
I remember blackberry bushes on the hillside in our backyard where I grew up. Each summer my mom and us kids would pick blackberries off them bushes. Mom made blackberry cobblers. They were so delicious! While out working around my little tub garden the other day in my back yard, I noticed along my property line that is covered in bushes and trees, we’re some wild blackberry bushes. I’d seen them in past years, but never saw any actual ripe fruit on them until now. This year they are loaded down with blackberries. At first I thought I’d pick them, but then I thought I’d better not. I figured all the deer that come on our property has never ate our garden since they still had plenty of berries, leaves, wildflowers and other foliage to eat. I decided it’s best to leave their food alone so hopefully they will continue to leave my food alone. So far so good, the deer haven’t ate from my garden yet and I’m hoping it stays that way! I’ll just buy my blackberries from a local farmer.
Our wild blackberries are done down here in Florida. I bought some thornless bushes but they never taste the same. Nothing beats the taste of wild ones. First jelly I ever made, when we packed up city life and moved to the country, was wild blackberry back in 1970. A sweet neighbor taught me how to pick and can them. All these years later, I still love them best when plucked off and into my mouth. They grow as weeds here on our acre lot and we mow around them. Too good to waste a free gift from above – like the fox grapes and persimmons I also turn into jelly. What’s left is deer and deer ticks. And memories of purple fingers, prickers, and God’s sweet candy.
I highly recommend Jim Casada’s book, ” Fishing for Chickens” I have almost finished reading it and I have thoroughly enjoyed it so far. I will be sharing with my dad, too. I plan on purchasing him a book of his own. He has chickens and I think he will get a kick out of the title. Also, my husband Keith and I took the side by side out the other day and found a huge patch of wild blackberries. We got lucky in the fact that they were growing right at the edge of the path and were easy to get to. They were so good!
I have a big patch of wild blackberries, they aren’t tipe yet, but there is a deer that comes every morning to nibble. keeps them out of my garden
Granny is such a character 🙂 Jim writes so well you are right there with him picking berries
After the year I came home with as many chiggers as blackberries, I haven’t been a fan of picking them. Other than what I can pick along the fences, I share the rest with the birds and deer.
As always this blog brings back fond memories of my own childhood and provides a calming effect that helps me through the work day.
Growing up I have fond memories of picking berries too. What we had growing wild were black caps. I loved to eat them fresh in a bowl with a sprinkling of sugar. Their prickers were the worst bit to contend with along with trying to get my berry stained hands clean afterwards.
I remember when I was a young boy my mother, grandparents, and a couple of other neighbors would all get together and make a “party” out of picking wild blackberries. They would take a lunch with them, drink water from a creek and make a day of it. One of these neighborhood ladies dipped snuff and smoked a corncob pipe, it blew my mind to see her do this. The women would dress in men’s pants and long sleeve shirts, and wear some type of hat or bonnet. How I long for those happy days of the past. I realized the conveniences of today make things a lot easier, but I think people were a lot happier back then. Doing this was just a simple pleasure they looked forward to doing each year.
Nothing better than a fresh blackberry cobbler. Like granny, we have to “dress up” to go picking!
Have a great day and GOD bless America!
The Grandmother I mentioned in my comment would make blackberry, peach, apple and sweet potato cobbler pies in a deep 4inch or more side white enamel pan and fill it up with dumplings. This was back in the late 50’s and early 60’s. I haven’t seen or ate one like that in a long time.
Love hearing all the stories about growing up and picking blackberries. I can just see Granny now! I’ve been wanting to read Fishing for Chickens ever since I saw you interview Jim on Celebrating Appalachia. Definitely going to get the book!
Trying to grow them thar bushes now…God Bless.
I enjoy picking all types of berries, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. I’m not sure which is my favorite. I have a problem when I pick berries, it takes me a while to get going. I eat about half of what I pick until I get full.
I have wild black berries, not ripe yet, God bless you friends of Appalachia,