FEATHER TEA FOR THE OLD TIMER By Norris Chambers One afternoon I was
prepared to spend the night with Ike Slate. When school dismissed Ike and I
started hiking west toward his home. He lived about three miles away in an area
where mesquite trees and post oaks were abundant. I felt a cold coming on and
was sneezing a little now and then. I wasn’t suffering any yet, but I knew the
worst was yet to come. When we arrived we
were cordially greeted by his mother and younger sister who was still under
school age. We hadn’t been in the house long when I was forced to emit a noisy
sneeze. Ike’s mother looked at me but didn’t say anything. Before I could
excuse myself I was overwhelmed by another outburst. “You must be catching
a cold!” she exclaimed. “How long have you been sneezing?” “It’s nothing,” I
assured her. “I guess it’s just something in the air. I’ll be all right.” That might have ended
the discussion but at that moment I just had to sneeze again. “That’s the beginning of a cold,” she
insisted. “You’ve got to have a dose of feather tea.” I
hadn’t heard of feather tea. It didn’t sound all that good! “Ike, go get a big hen. We’ll have chicken
for supper and a cold cure for Norris!” I went with Ike to get
the chicken. There were a bunch of old black hens puttering around the cow lot.
Ike pulled a long willow pole from under the feed shed. There was a long, thin
wire hook on the smaller end. He held the pole low and began calling the
chickens. They came running toward us expecting to be fed. After picking a
large fat one he slipped the hook over one of her legs and pulled her toward
us. She started squawking and the noise spread to the rest of the flock. I have
heard less noise when a skunk was raiding a chicken house. The capture was
successful and Ike’s mother met us at the lot gate. She took the hen and
without any comment started pulling the long wing feathers and dropping them in
a bucket that she had brought with her. The chicken began such noisy squawking
that the whole barnyard became alarmed. When she had about a half bucket of the long black feathers she grabbed the neck of the noisy bird and started
swinging it around in a vertical circle. Soon the body was separated from the
head and lay fluttering on the ground. She pitched the head aside and headed
for the house. We followed meekly and I was wondering what the next step would
be. When we came to the
kitchen a large kettle was boiling on top of the stove and a full head of steam
was rolling out of the spout. She poured a bucket about half full of the hot
water and pushed the hen down in it. “Ike, you and your
sister take the chicken out and pick it.” She commanded and then poured a glass
about half full of the boiling water. She gathered the long feathers that she
has brought in and stuffed the sharp ends into the water until it was so full
it would hold no more. She left it steaming on the table and walked out of the
room. She told me she’d be back in a minute. When she returned she pulled the
feathers out of the glass and poured something out of a big crock jug into it
until it was full. “You drink the whole
glass as soon as it is cool enough - the hotter the better!” I was shocked and
before I could think of anything to say I picked up the glass and started
sipping. The concoction had a sour, rancid taste. I suspected that the liquid
from the jug was vinegar. I thought about pouring the glass of stuff out and
running but after so much preparation I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. As
the liquid cooled I held my nose and drank it. That was many years ago but I
have never tasted anything horrible enough to compare with it. Finally I turned
my nose loose and placed the empty glass on the table. “Good!” she exclaimed.
“Now you can tell that cold bye, bye! You can go out and help Ike and Rosie
with the feather picking and we’ll soon have fried chicken and gravy for
supper!” Your first question
would be, “Did it cure your cold?” My answer would be “I guess it did. I quit
sneezing.” The second question “Was the fried chicken good and was the whole
thing a lot of fun?” My answer would be, “The chicken was good and I always try
to have fun – but the feather tea? I
might have to pass on that one!” |