Road Kill
“Stop! Stop the car!”
My mother-in-law, riding
next to Mike in the front wasn’t prepared for my outburst and was surely
surprised when he stopped in the middle of the road.
“Hurry! Unlock the car! The child safety feature is keeping me from
getting out!”
Again, Mike dutifully obliged.
I jumped out and quickly
hefted the item, ran to the back of the car, opened the hatch, and threw it
inside before running back around and jumping into my seat with a shout: “Got it! It’s a beauty! We will have that for supper tonight.”
Mike’s mom looked surprised
but laughed, not really believing what she was seeing, I think.
“Let’s go!” I declared with
a laugh. “I want to see if I can find
another one!”
This time, I kept my shoes on instead of
kicking them off as I usually do when riding in the car and I shamelessly broke
the law by not fastening my seatbelt. I
sat in the middle of the back seat with my eyes peeled to the road looking for
another victim. We went a few miles, but
I didn’t slack in my vigilance.
“There!” I shouted and pointed between the front seats to a point beyond the windshield, in a direction that indicated the object was further down the road, but within sight. Mike was deep in conversation with his mom and wasn’t paying enough attention to my directions. He didn't slow down.
“Stop! You passed it!” I said, only slightly irritated. I was
giddy with the thought of bagging another one!
Mike stopped, laughed, and
asked, “So did you want me to back up?”
(His mom was doubled over with laughter by this time.)
“Well either back up or
unlock the dang child safety locks so that I can get out and run back there,” I
declared.
He backed up quickly,
unlocked the door for me and I grabbed my prize, threw it in the back of the
car, and was back in my seat in one swift move, just like a pro. I was getting good at this!
“That one wasn’t quite so
big but we will still have enough to last for a while,” I said with a grin.
It wasn’t as successful a
day as we have had in the past, but we would still have plenty to eat for a
while. Besides, we didn’t want to be
greedy as it’s always nice to leave some for other folks scavenging for their
supper. My mother-in-law continued to
cackle throughout the day every time she thought about the incident. She later declared that it was the best part of her visit.
Later that evening as we had
our supper, Mike remarked how good the roadkill tasted and I remarked that it
was young, fresh, tender, and flavorful.
We all laughed at our own joke and took another helping of slaw made
from the cabbage I had picked up along the side of the road.
Thirty years ago, five
percent of our nation’s cabbage came from Carroll County a small community
tucked away in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. While some of the farmers retired, went out
of business, or diversified their interests, and not as much cabbage is grown
here today, it is still a major crop for many.
The climate is perfect for growing this crop and others like it, such as
kale and broccoli. The higher elevations provide cool, night air that aids in producing the mild flavor associated with mountain cabbage. The cabbage is mostly harvested by migrants
who use long knives to cut each head from the ground. Unlike often damaged cabbage
harvested by machine, each individually harvested head is usually perfect as it makes its way into the
crates to be transported to the distributor and shipped out to grocery stores around
the nation. The large, topless crates are piled high with cabbage and placed on open
trailers for hauling. As the big trucks make their way around the curving,
mountain roads, the cabbage on top often rolls right off. Most days during harvest season, the
roads are littered with what Mike labeled “Road Kill Cabbage”.
We grew our own cabbage when
we first moved to Laurel Fork. It was
easy to grow, tasty, and beautiful. We
were selling a bit of produce at our roadside stand at the time, and we put our
lovely cabbage out at the stand but not one time did anyone buy it. That was before we knew the way of the locals, but once we realized that a free supply of cabbage was almost always available for
those who would stop and pick it up, we stopped trying to sell it. Just the fact we put it on our
stand made us appear like outsiders, greenhorns, cheechakos. Embarrassed at our mistake, we stopped doing
that, but I balked at the idea of gleaning roadside cabbage, even when Mike insisted it was the
thing to do. At first, when he began
stopping, I would refuse to retrieve it for him and
instead would hatch out a plan to lie down in the seat if I saw a car
approaching. It was bad enough if they
saw my husband on the side of the road gathering up spilled produce, but I would
be mortified if they knew I was a part of such shenanigans. Just like with any other vice, frequent
exposure broke down my staunch reserves and I couldn’t help but notice how much
fun my husband was having with it. Maybe
participating just one time wouldn’t hurt.
That was my mistake. I liked
it. It was sort of like playing “Red
Light” as a teenager when everyone runs around the car and tries to get back
inside before the light changes to green.
I got hooked and now I am a shameless participant. Besides, I like to think of it as gleaning just
as Ruth did in the fields of Boaz in the Old Testament, a God-sanctioned sort
of taking from the haves and giving to the have-nots. Yes, I know that Mike and I are not in the
category of being in need like poor Ruth, but I assuaged my conscience by
sharing road kill cabbage with others who are not as fortunate or are not able
to get out and hunt as we do! Sometimes I simply share it with others because they like it too! We also
leave some for others to glean, as it’s only right to share the bounty. When see
someone stopping to quickly bag the prize, we cheer them on and flash a thumbs
up as we pass by!
Think you're too good for Road Kill Cabbage? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Why we might even be convinced to take you along on one of our scouting trips if you have an open mind. And just so you know, we hunt for sweet corn the same way!
