We have an abundance of black walnut trees, which translates into an abundance of black walnuts. Maybe even on overabundance, since there are times during the peak production season that we risk twisting an ankle on a rogue nut just going out to feed the dog. And there is only one person in this household who probably counts that as one of his blessings every Saturday in church. That person, unsurprisingly, is my dad.
You see, black walnuts are one of the real high points in his life. In the winter he comes home from a long day at the mill and sits on the hearth with a hammer, cracking black walnuts. In the spring he comes home from church and sits out on the stone fence with a rock, cracking black walnuts. It’s almost always a time of silence and great contemplation– like Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker”, only with clothes and a heavy object in one hand. Family history tells us he’s always done this, even as a small child (if you remember, that’s what got him in trouble with his pet chicken. Maybe it’s a great way to center, find inner peace. I don’t really know because I’ve never tried it. I’m more of a cashew kind of person.
Anyway, this man takes his walnuts seriously. Last season he even went so far as to pay me to “harvest” them. It’s a multi-step process, beginning with picking them up and scattering them in the driveway. They stay there until they’ve been run over enough that the hulls have fallen off. They dry for a day or two, then they’re collected again and ready for storage. The process is more tedious than complicated, but worth the thirty bucks any way you want to look at it. I probably filled two fifty-gallon buckets this year; not a bad haul considering I had to hull most of them by hand. The running them over thing? Not only is it primitive, it also doesn’t really work.
This is what a wheelbarrow full of black walnuts looks like (before hulling):
Kind of pretty, actually. The hulling is where it gets messy, because they bleed a sort of pungent-smelling tannin if you don’t let them dry long enough that stains your hands (feet, clothes, etc.) for days. If you let them dry for too long, though, it effects the quality of the nut and is really rough on your hands. Long story short, I put in quite a bit of work on our walnut crop this year. There’s been enough to last from November to May and they’ve been of a good quality (or so I’ve heard). Taking all of the above into consideration, you can imagine how happy I was to look out my window and find myself staring straight into the chubby face of this guy:
I live in an area with a crime rate of practically null, and yet I still have to deal with the thuggery of the grey squirrel. Tell me where is the fairness in this? Where is my squirrel dog? Where is my camera? This squirrel thuggery, er– skulduggery must stop!
He approaches (“Yes, target in sight!”)…
He crawls down in the bucket and chooses his nut (“My precious!”)…
Caught in the act, you punk! Pictures don’t lie.
Burying the evidence. *cue “Bad Boys” theme music*
Innocent face? Ha! Be ye not deceived, America, be ye not deceived…