The Middle of the Forest

Do you know anything about chiggers? If you're from East Texas, especially the Piney Woods area, you probably do. I was introduced to the little (literal) buggers when I was about 13 years old. My mom and her Aunt Edna (my grandmother's sister) would always spend at least a few weeks at the beginning of each summer visiting Grandma, and giving her a bit of relief from having to take care of my great-grandfather.

On this particular trip, we had all set out on a grand adventure. My grandmother; Aunt Edna, her daughter Lessie, and grandson Eddie; along with my mom, me, and my little brother; decided to take a trek into the Davy Crockett National Forest and the family's original Texas homestead, along Alabama Creek (An odd thought just popped up. Just about every place thse women settled are now preserves of one kind or another. Duck River in Tennessee has all sorts of endangered critters along its banks, the Missouri farm is at the bottom of Truman Lake, and Alabama Creek in the Davy Crockett National Forest is now a wildlife protection area. OK, end the digression, Ann) We made it to the creek. Grandmother and Aunt Edna argued a bit over just where the farm had been, but we soon found a real treasure, an old deserted cemetery - Mt. Zion, it was called. There had once been a church there, where my 3rd great-grandfather preached during the late 1860's and into the 1880's. And yes, this was Ailcy's husband, David Felder Richardson, who was rumored to have ridden with Quantrill during the war, before he got religion. After Ailcy died, he brought the family to Texas, and eventually to Alabama Creek. My great-great grandmother, Martha Ann (I am her namesake) married Perry Thorne there - the dashing cowboy who fell in love with her as he caught a glimpse of her on a riverboat travelling down the Red River, followed her to the homestead, and married her as soon as David Felder decided she was old enough. They say she was beautiful, kind, and gentle - a lady who always rode side-saddle, even into her eighties. No one is quite certain how it came about that her daughter, Euna, the mother of my Great-Aunt Edna and my grandmother, turned out to be the meanest woman who walked two legs (or so everyone said.) They say that Euna doted on Aunt Edna, who was blonde, petite, and blue-eyed, but treated my grandmother, who had carrot-red hair, freckles, and a taller, lankier body, like she was a some sort of an indentured servant.

Anyway, we spent hours walking through that cemetery, found headstones for many of the Richardsons, including David Felder and the three of his four wives who succeeded Ailcy, and Grandma and Aunt Edna told us enough family stories to fill many books, and we laughed, and sang old songs, and were still singing as we drove back into the farmyard late that night. We went to bed tired, but happy.

It wasn't until about three or four in the morning that the itching started. By dawn, we were scratching furiously, and in the light, around our ankles, waists, and a few other places, if you looked close you could even see them, the little red buggers. Scientifically, I've been told, they grab hold of your pores and inject them with this stuff that liquefies your skin cells, and that's what causes the itch, so even after you bathe for a very long time in very hot salt water, the itching doesn't go away.

Needless to say, it was our last trek into that forest, but looking back, just watching my mom, her cousin, and their mothers laughing and having such a good time, finding the old tombstones, walking along that creek, I would do it again - chiggers and all. But first, I would stock up on Calamine Lotion.



Ann