After we moved in with my grandparents, it was a houseful. Grandma and grandpa Bill, their two sons, and their two youngest daughters, plus my mom and her four children. All in a four room house. I don't know how grandma and my mom did it, but I was too young to understand. Grandpa Bill kept a Turtle fattening up in a barrel out by the kitchen door, by throwing food scrapes in the barrel.
One Sunday we all sat down at the kitchen table to eat. Grandpa always blessed the food, and we children bowed our heads in respects. It was required. We were having Chicken Sauce Piquant (that's exactly what it was called). When we were almost finished, my aunt Hazel asked me if I knew what we were eating. I said chicken and she laughed out loud. Several people at the table laughed, and I was embarrassed, because I didn't know what they were laughing at. My Aunt Hazel was famous for that. "It was Turtle", she said.
I had never eaten turtle, and was a little picky about my food, so I ran from the table, into the woods (my safe haven) and stayed there for a long time, cried a little, until I got over it. We were never humored, nobody came looking for me. But I have never forgotten it, and to this day will not eat turtle meat.
Another thing. One day a mad dog was hanging around the house, barking and foaming at the mouth. Don't know who determined the dog was Rabied, but we were all huddled in the house, and grandpa had his shotgun ready. My mother's two brothers were there giving their opinions. There was a lot of excitement.. Finally my uncle Dillion said he had always heard if you put a copper penny in a biscuit and get the dog to eat it, the Rabies would go away. Or the dog would die. So that was the decision, only who to get to give the biscuit to the dog. It was decided. Someone would throw the biscuit out the door. Dillon was the chosen one. He opened the door just enough and threw the biscuit toward the dog. Well the dog didn't eat the biscuit, he just continued to threaten. So my grandpa shot him.