Mulberry Worms

By Cayce B. Shelton

When I was a young feller I learned to eat many different types of natural foods. My grandparents taught me how to pick out the sweetest dewberries, mustang grapes, poke salad greens, wild onions, and a variety of nuts like pecans, walnuts, and acorns. So, when my father came home after the end of the war, I was well versed in survival.

One of the first of many moves my immediate family of father, mother, brother and me took was to a little greasy spot on the Dallas Highway north of Waco, Texas. I was in the fifth grade by then and spent half of that school year at the community school there. I quickly made a few friends that had similar interests. One of those interests was a desire for adventure sometime coupled with food.

As my brother and I had to walk about two miles to and from school, some of which was through a residential area, it was only natural that we took note of the different types of fruit and vegetables being grown in the neighborhood. One of those fruits grew high in a mulberry tree.

Now, although having knowledge of mulberries, I had never been in a situation where I could have my fill of that fruit. So, it was with a sense of adventure and a gut filling desire that forced me to climb that tree that grew in the front yard of its owner. My brother knew as much as I about the foods in nature and he did not really relish climbing twenty feet off the ground to steal mulberries. I was up there all alone for at least fifteen minutes before a few of my friends came along. Soon, I was not alone in the tree.

“Hey, cowboy, I didn’t know you liked mulberries?” called Clyde as he stopped on the large limb below me.

“Well, hell, yes, I do. They are one of my favorite food when they are ripe,” I replied, stuffing three or four of the ripe berries into my mouth. I watched Clyde grab a handful of berries, the juice running between his fingers, and filling his own mouth. Suddenly, we looked down at the man on the ground that was calling to us.

“Hey, you boys. Yaw should’en be eating them mulberries. They got worms in them,” he called with a motion of his arm.

I called down to him as I stripped another handful off of a limb, “That’s ok mister, worms are protein and these taste real good.”

Clyde grinned up at me as he chewed and I watched the old man shake his head and wave his arms in disgust. Then, he looked up and called out again.

“Well, you boys be careful up there. I don’t want any trouble from anyone cause one of you fell out of that tree. Ya’ll just remember I told you to get outta my tree and stay out, you hear?”

Clyde and I waved to the old man and watched him turn and walk back into the house as we laughed and continued our feast. Before either of us was filled with the worm-filled mulberries, there were at least three more boys in the tree, with half a dozen girls on the ground making fun of us.

I sure do miss them mulberries.