Mid-August to late September brings out a devoted breed of Pacific Northwesterner: the huckleberry hound. Among them is KLCC’s Brian Bull, who shares this audio postcard.
'Ta'c meeywi', it’s camitxt'al!
That’s Nez Perce for “Good day (morning), it’s huckleberry season.” Like many other tribes in the region, we gathered berries. Often they were dried in the sun, or smoked before being mashed into cakes.
A great philosopher once said, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Well, that’s kind of how I feel when I pluck the first huckleberry off a branch, and drop it in a bucket, like so…[PLONK]
I know it’s a long journey between the first berry and a decently filled bucket, but the reward is in the journey, too. Being out in the woods gives me solitude and time in the outdoors, which brings back fond memories.
Grandma Bull made amazing huckleberry pies, while Grandpa Bull made the definitive Pacific Northwest breakfast: sourdough huckleberry pancakes. Just incredible.
Folks like me put up with wasps, flies, mosquitoes, uneven terrain…I even had a relative meet a bear once while picking. They lived to tell the tale.
This is the sound of a bucket almost completely covered across the bottom with huckleberries, rolling around...(ROLLING AMBI)
After a couple hours, I have a pretty modest take today…but I’ll be back, soon enough. In the meantime, guess I better look for grandpa’s sourdough starter recipe.
In the mountainous woods of Oregon, I’m Brian Bull, KLCC News.
