Soapweed
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MY DAD'S JACKRABBIT SALES in 1956
By Steve Moreland, January 13, 2019
During the winter of 1955-1956, my dad enjoyed rabbit hunting when ranch work wasn't too pressing. Some evenings after supper, Dad would drive out through the pastures with a spotlight and get what he could with his old .22 rifle. I was just a squirt, having turned four years old in November. One night Mom and I, and undoubtedly my baby sister Sandra, accompanied Dad as he went spotlighting for jackrabbits. I was heavily armed with a wooden tubular "pop-gun" that was powered with air pressure, and by how fast a kid could pump the two pieces of the gun barrel together. A cork on a string was the ammunition.
Dad soon had a rabbit spotted with the headlights of the car. He got out to shoot, and so did I. Sadly for me, I was told to get back in the car and not make a sound. Mom saw to it that I followed instructions. Dad did get the rabbit.
During the course of the winter, Dad managed to shoot about 100 jackrabbits. In those days they brought a good price, as they were used for mink food. Apparel made from mink fur was very much an expensive fashion for ladies at the time, so "mink farms" raised these animals to be used for this purpose. Dad managed to sell his rabbits for 75 cents apiece, and took in 75 dollars for his efforts. As this was kind of a "bonus" to his regular ranch income, Dad decided to spend the money somewhat frivolously. He had always wanted a nice Canadian goose down coat. They were "top-of-the-line," but were expensive and not easily available, due to high tariffs on items imported from Canada. Dad did locate a nice Canadian goose down coat for the 75 dollars, so he bought it and wore it proudly—for all of two weeks.
On one of his first opportunities to wear this handsome addition to his wardrobe, he stopped at Dick Chappell's grocery store on the west side of Main Street (actually Mills Street) in Merriman. It was a cold blustery day, and the usual crowd of coffee drinkers and loafers were hunkered around the old pot-bellied wood stove trying to stay warm. Dad kind of elbowed his way in amongst them, proudly displaying his new coat. Somehow he ended up standing too close to the stove, and the nylon covering melted on the spot. He deposited goose down all the way out of the store. Some of the guys probably felt bad, and some of them were probably grinning. I can't recall him ever wearing that coat again. It sure wasn't as sharp as it had been. This picture shows the goose down coat in question.
In about the same time period, Ned Fair and Curly McClellan were a couple of happy-go-lucky single guys working on area ranches. One cold snowy Saturday night, they headed for Martin, South Dakota for dual purposes. They had a pickup load of jackrabbits to sell to a buyer in Martin, and since there was a dance going on in that fair city, they wanted to take it in also. They partied heartily and had a good time at the dance. Upon making it known that they had jackrabbits for sale, they were informed that a buyer in Winner was paying more per head than was the one in Martin.
Even though Winner was nearly a hundred miles further east, the two inebriated young gents decided to go where the price was better. Their old pickup was already missing the back window, so it had been a cold ride to Martin. Ned Fair was telling my dad, Bob Moreland, about the incident many years after it happened. When Curly got into the passenger side of the pickup, he grabbed a hammer from beneath the seat, and declared, "It's getting stuffy in here!" before bashing and breaking the glass on his side window. It was really a chilly ride to Winner, but hopefully the ends justified the means.
By Steve Moreland, January 13, 2019
During the winter of 1955-1956, my dad enjoyed rabbit hunting when ranch work wasn't too pressing. Some evenings after supper, Dad would drive out through the pastures with a spotlight and get what he could with his old .22 rifle. I was just a squirt, having turned four years old in November. One night Mom and I, and undoubtedly my baby sister Sandra, accompanied Dad as he went spotlighting for jackrabbits. I was heavily armed with a wooden tubular "pop-gun" that was powered with air pressure, and by how fast a kid could pump the two pieces of the gun barrel together. A cork on a string was the ammunition.
Dad soon had a rabbit spotted with the headlights of the car. He got out to shoot, and so did I. Sadly for me, I was told to get back in the car and not make a sound. Mom saw to it that I followed instructions. Dad did get the rabbit.
During the course of the winter, Dad managed to shoot about 100 jackrabbits. In those days they brought a good price, as they were used for mink food. Apparel made from mink fur was very much an expensive fashion for ladies at the time, so "mink farms" raised these animals to be used for this purpose. Dad managed to sell his rabbits for 75 cents apiece, and took in 75 dollars for his efforts. As this was kind of a "bonus" to his regular ranch income, Dad decided to spend the money somewhat frivolously. He had always wanted a nice Canadian goose down coat. They were "top-of-the-line," but were expensive and not easily available, due to high tariffs on items imported from Canada. Dad did locate a nice Canadian goose down coat for the 75 dollars, so he bought it and wore it proudly—for all of two weeks.
On one of his first opportunities to wear this handsome addition to his wardrobe, he stopped at Dick Chappell's grocery store on the west side of Main Street (actually Mills Street) in Merriman. It was a cold blustery day, and the usual crowd of coffee drinkers and loafers were hunkered around the old pot-bellied wood stove trying to stay warm. Dad kind of elbowed his way in amongst them, proudly displaying his new coat. Somehow he ended up standing too close to the stove, and the nylon covering melted on the spot. He deposited goose down all the way out of the store. Some of the guys probably felt bad, and some of them were probably grinning. I can't recall him ever wearing that coat again. It sure wasn't as sharp as it had been. This picture shows the goose down coat in question.
In about the same time period, Ned Fair and Curly McClellan were a couple of happy-go-lucky single guys working on area ranches. One cold snowy Saturday night, they headed for Martin, South Dakota for dual purposes. They had a pickup load of jackrabbits to sell to a buyer in Martin, and since there was a dance going on in that fair city, they wanted to take it in also. They partied heartily and had a good time at the dance. Upon making it known that they had jackrabbits for sale, they were informed that a buyer in Winner was paying more per head than was the one in Martin.
Even though Winner was nearly a hundred miles further east, the two inebriated young gents decided to go where the price was better. Their old pickup was already missing the back window, so it had been a cold ride to Martin. Ned Fair was telling my dad, Bob Moreland, about the incident many years after it happened. When Curly got into the passenger side of the pickup, he grabbed a hammer from beneath the seat, and declared, "It's getting stuffy in here!" before bashing and breaking the glass on his side window. It was really a chilly ride to Winner, but hopefully the ends justified the means.
