November 2014

NOVEMBER 2014

EwEind Fs R the

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The Legend of Perma Stone Shorty From Galeton, the world’s most famous beagle

By Don Knaus

The Greatest Generation The Great Hunt Some Great Pumpkin

www.mountainhomemag.com

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Volume 9 Issue 11

The Legend of Perma Stone Shorty

By Don Knaus From Galeton, the world’s most famous beagle.

6 Dem Dry Bones

By Roger Kingsley The Swarthouts—and a bunch of beetles—turn animal skulls into art.

21 Heart of the Mountain

By Patricia Brown Davis I’ll be seeing you.

43 Move Over, Pumpkin Pie

By Jo Charles A new tradition for an old favorite.

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Cover by Tucker Worthington; Cover photo courtesy of Perma Stone Inn (This page, from top): Courtesy of Perma Stone Inn;

by Roger Kingsley; by Suzan Richar; and by Jo Charles.

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The Great Hunt

By Don Knaus In 1818, Pennsylvania and New York made sporting history.

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The Lunker

By Fred Metarko Luck, be a lunker today.

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Singing at the Range

By Cornelius O’Donnell If music soothes the savage beast, think what it can do for the harried chef.

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Back of the Mountain

By Sarah Wagaman What so proudly we hailed.

w w w. m o u n ta i n h o m e m ag . co m

EDITORS & PUBLISHERS Teresa Banik Capuzzo Michael Capuzzo ASSOCIATE PUBLISHERS Dawn Bilder George Bochetto, Esq. DESIGN & PHOTOGRAPHY Elizabeth Young, Editor Tucker Worthington, Cover Design CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Angela Cannon-Crothers, Patricia Brown Davis, Alison Fromme, Holly Howell, George Jansson, McKennaugh Kelley, Roger Kingsley, Don Knaus, Adam Mahonske, Cindy Davis Meixel, Fred Metarko, Dave Milano, Gayle Morrow, Cornelius O’Donnell, Roger Neumann, Gregg Rinkus, Linda Roller, Kathleen Thompson, Joyce M. Tice C O N T R I B U T I N G P H O T O G R A P H E R S Mia Lisa Anderson, Bill Crowell, Bruce Dart, Ann Kamzelski, Ken Meyer, Tina Tolins, Sarah Wagaman, Curt Weinhold, Terry Wild SALES REPRESENTATIVES Brian Earle Michael Banik Linda Roller ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT Amy Packard THE BEAGLE Cosmo (1996-2014) Yogi (Assistant)

ABOUT US: Mountain Home is the award-winning regional magazine of PA and NY with more than 100,000 readers. The magazine has been published monthly, since 2005, by Beagle Media, LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, 16901, and online at www.mountainhomego.com. Copyright © 2010 Beagle Media, LLC. All rights reserved. E-mail story ideas to editorial@mountainhomemag.com, or call (570) 724-3838.

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Courtesy of Perma Stone Inn

Media star: Award-winning show dog Perma Stone Shorty holding the magazine that burnished his reputation.

THE LEGEND OF

PERMA STONE SHORTY From Galeton, the World’s Most Famous Beagle

By Don Knaus

O

nce bitten by the beagle bug, there’s little hope. Bite victims always contract that incurable disease, beaglemania. Those infected are obsessed with silky soft beagle ears. They might point out a beagle while motoring down an interstate highway. They unconsciously pet beagles that are out for a walk. And, nearly the last straw, they will pick up a beagle puppy and instantly fall in love. I’ve suffered from the malady for years. I’m a beagle man.

I remember beagles I’ve known. The best of them, in hunting terms, are etched into my memory bank. The best beagle I ever hunted with was a small fetching female named Lady. She was the only dog the Old Man ever paid a penny to own…and the only dog we ever had that sported a pedigree. There were a number of other cooped, baying beagles before I grew up and left home.

I began a string of my own beagles, all house dogs thanks to my lovely bride and two daughters.

The best of the lot was Meg, a resolute runner of rabbits who set a record that later dogs simply could not match. Yes, I remember my beagles. Dogs owned by others usually didn’t impress me.

But once, in a dimly lit bar in Potter County, I saw a beagle that I would never forget. On the way home from a fishing trip, Uncle Bully and the Old Man had stopped at a tavern outside Galeton for a short one. I was about twelve years old so I sipped soda through a straw. Then, to the cheers of all the pub patrons, the owner of the place lifted his beagle to the bar. The dog walked slowly down the polished maple counter, sniffing each hand as the beer drinkers stroked his back. Then, the barkeep said, “Shorty, I don’t think we like this guy.” The beagle promptly lifted his leg and spritzed the guy’s beer. Everyone laughed. I was amazed.

See The Legend on page 8

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The Legend continued from page 7

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I learned that the place was the Perma Stone Inn and that the drink-dousing dog was billed as “The World’s Most Famous Beagle,� with the registration name, Perma Stone Shorty. It was a fancy “full� name, but everybody just called him Shorty. People came from miles around to see Shorty, he was that famous. Noted outdoor writers told tales of Shorty in their magazines and newspaper columns.

And though the county’s best pizza and a beer were excuse enough to pay a visit to the Perma Stone, Shorty was the real reason they stopped.

The place was on the way home from flinging flies at finicky trout on Pine Creek. In fact, many anglers parked at the inn, crossed Route 6, strolled down the bank, and commenced their assault on the brown trout. When darkness rolled down the valley, they’d reel in their line, climb the bank, cross the road, and lumber inside, boots and all. Shorty’s owner, Vern Beacker, was always holding court behind the bar and his gal, “Bert,� was scurrying around the kitchen out back.

Ol’ Vern was a natural-born showman. Born in Carter Camp, he graduated from Galeton High School and served Old Glory during World War II. After the war, he was active in his hometown, being instrumental in the formation of the Galeton Drill Team. Every town had a drill team comprised of WWII vets back then, and there were many competitions.

And in the ’50s, the drill team from the little town of Galeton, Pennsylvania, was declared World Champion. He excelled at baseball and he pitched and played second base for the Germania and Galeton ball teams into his fifties.

Vern had a dream to turn a vacant auto dealership into a bar and restaurant.

Patrons danced each weekend on what once had been the showroom floor.

He ran the place for fifty years. Vern processed deer on the side and he had a huge cooler out back. Hunters traveled See The Legend on page 10

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The Legend continued from page 8

for miles to hang their whitetails in the cooler—especially in archery season when the weather could get warm. Sipping suds and seeing Shorty’s act was a plus.

Busy as he was, Ol’ Vern held a passion for beagles.

He helped form the Potter County Beagle Club, which led him to the field trial circuit. Eventually he would build a large kennel, personally training thirty-five dogs who won many blue ribbons and trophies at sanctioned field trials.

Vern’s pride and joy, his favorite beagle, Perma Stone Shorty, became a champion in thirteen states and was a three-time national field trial champion as well as an international star. Shorty was Vern’s constant companion.

Shorty’s master invested in a registered female for the champ to romance. Their pups would have pedigrees “as long as yer arm.” Shorty’s gal was Waneta Jo, a pretty little thing who stayed in the kennel to nurse her pups while Shorty entertained folks on the field trail circuit, at the bar, and everywhere he went. Waneta Jo would become a threetime field trial champion in her own right. She remained Shorty’s main squeeze while he was competing. When he was declared a national champ, he had lots of girlfriends.

Trained? You bet. Vern used to place Shorty on the pool table and command, “Sit. Now, you stay there until I get back.” The master went to town for groceries. Bets were flying from the flatlanders as to how long Shorty would stay at sit. The locals smiled and accepted all wagers. When Ol’ Vern returned, there sat Shorty on the green felt, never having moved a muscle. Vern would point his finger like a pistol and say, “Bang!” The dog dutifully dropped dead.

And everyone would order another round. When Vern took Shorty outside for potty duty, he would say, “Shorty, we don’t like that truck. Pee on the tires.” And the beagle obeyed.

Whenever Shorty needed a nap, he chose to lie on his back with his feet aimed at the sky. That somnolent pose was thought more than once to indicate “dead dog.” On their travels to field trials all over the country, Vern would drive. (Shorty didn’t like to fly.) On the road, Shorty would sleep on his back in the rear seat. One time, after driving for hours, Vern pulled to the side of the road and dozed. A state trooper stopped, knocked on the window, and roused Vern.

Thinking he had a DUI on his hands, the cop said, “You’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you?” Ol’ Vern wiped the sleep out of his eyes and smiled. He said, “If you think I’m drunk, you oughta check the guy in the back seat.” There laid Shorty, looking for all the world like a corpse. “Shorty, wake up and say hello to the policeman.” Shorty snored and didn’t move. Vern shouted, “Shorty!” The dog rolled to erect, placed his paws on the seat behind his master, and licked the trooper’s hand. Arrest averted.

According to Ol’ Vern, Shorty’s favorite trip was the time he won the Louisiana State Field Trial Championships.

See The Legend on page 12

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Courtesy of Perma Stone Inn

Sports afield: Vern, Waneta Jo—and especially Shorty—pose for the camera.

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A star is born: Perma Stone Shorty (right, with Vern and Waneta Jo) hawks dog food in a television ad.

The Legend continued from page 10

Afterward, Vern walked the dog down Bourbon Street with the blue ribbon attached to his collar. They stopped in every bar and, after Shorty did his act, Ol’ Vern drank for free. It was a long and happy night and a long trip home.

A day later, Shorty and Waneta Jo were running rabbits for the famous outdoor writer George X. Sand. The hunt had been arranged by Wellsboro writer Louis Stevenson, and the story graced the pages of Outdoor Life magazine. The tales of Shorty’s exploits featured in outdoor magazines, newspaper columns, and beagle literature are almost too numerous to mention. Sadly, all of Shorty’s trophies, medals, and ribbons—and all the stories in print—were on display at the Perma Stone Inn, and they were destroyed by a devastating fire.

Re c o rd s s h ow t h a t Sh o r t y competed into the 1960s. Already a three-time champ, Shorty and Vern hosted some 200 hounds at the Northern Tier Licensed Field Trial Championships at their home in Galeton. Shorty won his division, as did two of his daughters, Pine Creek Jane and Perma Stone Belle. Vern took Shorty to Canada enough times for the

Courtesy of Perma Stone Inn

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dog to be declared an International Champion. A year after that, Vern made the papers again as he posed with a “wolf ” killed on the opening day of small game season. (It was probably the first coyote killed locally.)

There’re gone, Shorty and Vern.

But if you stop at the Perma Stone they can show you where Shorty’s buried.

And they can show you a mount of one of Shorty’s pups that died in a kennel disaster. If you’re real lucky, you might run into an old-timer in his nineties who can tell you stories of the World’s Most Famous Beagle.

Remember Lady, that petite pedigreed beagle who ran my first rabbit? Well, she was the daughter of the tryst between Perma Stone Shorty and Waneta Jo. It must have been in her genes, because Lady was the best hunting hound I ever saw. Like I said, I remember beagles…the best ones.

Life-long sportsman and retired teacher, principal, and coach Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and the author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

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The History Center on Main Streeet

The northeastern section of Bradford County contained the bulk of the hunt.

The Great Hunt

In 1818, Pennsylvania and New York Made Sporting History

By Don Knaus

I

t’s November. And November is deer season throughout the Twin Tiers. Several decades ago, deer season was almost a religious rite to locals. They geared up for opening day with a solemnity that rivaled the Lenten lead-up to Easter. A few days before the opener, like a last-minute Christmas shopping frenzy, hunters scurried to shooting ranges to sight in rifles. Novice nimrods were baptized by fire as bench-rest shots boomed and echoed off the mountains and up the hollows. Men scouted the woods like they were picking just the right pew for services. Old-timers communed at

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the coffee shop, telling and retelling hunting stories that were taken as gospel. The first day of deer season was a big event. Going afield on that day was a Holy Day of Obligation. Missing the day would have been sacrilege.

The population of small rural towns doubled during the first week of buck season. Downstate hunters made an annual pilgrimage to the North Woods in what amounted to an invasion. Derided by locals and dubbed “flatlanders,” they were seen as heretics and universally scorned. An army of invaders in Woolrich uniforms paraded Main Streets giving villages the hustle

and bustle of city sidewalks. Bored with bivouac in their camps, the flatlanders wandered aimlessly up and down the streets, testing the bars and sporting goods emporiums with equal zeal. A guy could down some hooch while his buddies shopped for shells in a sporting goods store next door. A hunter could buy his license while his buddies sipped suds at the café across the street. Every kid anticipated the first day as much as he did a first date or his sixteenth birthday.

In a time long ago, much of my deer hunting consisted of setting up drives for deer. Simply, a group of

hunters gathered together to hunt in a cooperative fashion for whitetail deer. The gang might be family members like Grandpa, Uncle Bully, my dad, his brother Kenny, cousins Tuffy, Hank, and Gimme, and me, the youngest of the clan. Later, the gang would include friends like Spigoon, Coxie, Harding, and a host of others. Those driven deer hunts are fond memories. But, no matter how many deer we tagged, we never approached the success recorded in local histories.

Once upon a time, some seventy-seven years before the existence of the Pennsylvania Game Commission, some Twin Tiers hunters participated in what became known as the Great Hunt of 1818. In those days, hunting was an absolute necessity. Bear and deer supplied food for the family, and the elimination of wolves and panthers was crucial in order to protect livestock from predators. As settlement of the wilds progressed, some food supplies came from other sources, and predators, leery of the rifle, moved their territory to more remote places.

In those days of yore, when our area was mostly a wild, howling wilderness, some men along the Susquehanna organized the largest deer drive in United States history.

The drive would take up parts of five counties in two states and encompass some 470 square miles.

The “Great Hunt” was preceded by a somewhat smaller hunt as recorded in Mrs. Perkins local history, Early Times. “New York and Pennsylvania boys engaged in a grand deer hunt in this beautiful valley, in the fall of 1818, it was a gala day…Fires had been lighted on the North mountains the previous night, and the hounds sent out early to drive the deer to the plains.

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See The Great Hunt on page 16 15

The History Center on Main Streeet

Forty panthers were taken in the Great Hunt of 1818, the largest deer drive in United States history.

The Great Hunt continued from page 15

chosen [and] about two hundred men, armed with guns and rifles, sallied forth from their homes…to engage in the exciting sport.” The idea was to drive toward a central point, driving the deer before them so that the deer were “surrounded by the hunters or hemmed in by the rivers.”

Of course many deer escaped, but a number were encircled. At that point the men began shooting until one of the party cried out that he was wounded. Shooting stopped while the doctor announced that the injury was a flesh wound. One of the men, “Big Decker,” escaped being shot when a ball hit a tree about six inches over his head. He was angry and asked to borrow a gun so that he might return fire, but he was calmed down. The hunters had killed about thirty deer and the take was skinned, dressed, and divided among the men.

The reports of that first hunt sounded like so much fun that Colonel Aden Stevens thought to organize an even bigger hunt and the colonel’s neighbors readily agreed upon the details. The “orders of the day” were published some time beforehand. It required that every man was to be on the lines at eight o’clock a.m. The participants were to bring “as many tin horns as could be found.” The men were lined up and they were to march at the sound of the horn. Captains, respected hunters who knew the forests, were appointed for every ten men. The colonel had figured on about 400 to 500 men, but, unbeknownst to him, the numbers would swell to more than 800 hunters.

The horn first sounded at Wysox, then down the line to Wyalusing, up Wyalusing Creek and north to approximately present-day Vestal, New York. Then the line of hunters stretched west to Chemung where the line followed the northeast edge of the Susquehanna back to See The Great Hunt on page 18 16

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The Great Hunt continued from page 16

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Wysox. The drive began with the first blast of the horns.

Signals were to be given at short intervals until the center was reached. Colonel Stevens wrote, “I stood and listened.

It took about 30 minutes to pass the signals around the line.

The men marched with guns, axes, spears, and pitchforks.”

It was dark before the hunters reached the rendezvous site and the game was dispatched. Most of the hunters stayed at the site all night.

The hill that the men encircled was a large stand of beech free of underbrush. Excitement reached fever pitch as deer attempting to escape were shot down. The men moved forward slowly until they could see the heads of those on the opposite side of the hill, when the colonel commanded a cease-fire. For years thereafter, the men called the point of rendezvous, “Slaughter Hill.” When the firing ceased, a bear was in the circle and the men charged it with clubs.

The bear broke free, but two men standing outside the ring shot him.

On a humorous note, Stevens recorded that a doe with a slight flesh wound sought escape from the circle of hunters. Colonel Theron Darling was a very tall man standing on the top of a steep bank. The doe “came down with a determination to break the ranks. The men by this time had got so close together that they stood shoulder to shoulder. The deer, discovering a larger opening between the colonel’s legs than anywhere else, put down her head and attempted to pass through. The colonel fell forward and clasped his arms around her, and away they both went down the bank a couple of rods, the colonel’s feet foremost.

Being a good soldier, he did not relinquish his hold until he got the deer down and cut its throat.”

Hunting dogs accompanied some of the hunters. The dogs were controlled by their masters until the shooting started. Then, confused by the many shouts and shots, the dogs sought out downed deer and lay beside them to take possession for their masters.

Apparently arguments broke among the hunters as the many parties who engaged in this hunt expressed their dissatisfaction. To quote the history, “and so many were the charges of dishonesty and fraud made against some parties living along the river that the hunt was never repeated.”

Still, it was quite a hunt, a hunt that accounted for 150 deer and ninety-two bears for the meat larders. They also took fifty-eight wolves, forty “panthers,” and “a few elk.”

The predators accounted for $550.00 in bounties. And that’s the way it was done…once upon a time.

Life-long sportsman and retired teacher, principal, and coach Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and the author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

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O U T D O O R S A rack of racks rests in peace, awaiting the next processing stage at Swarthout’s Skullworks.

Dem Dry Bones

The Swarthouts—and a Bunch of Beetles—Turn Animal Skulls Into Art Story and Photos By Roger Kingsley

R

oaring Branch is a tiny village along Route 14, established in Tioga County, Pennsylvania, at a point where Mill Creek and Lycoming Creek unite. The name supposedly originated from the roaring waters of Mill Creek descending through a rocky gorge on its way to meet the Lycoming. Recent demographics list a population of about 1,100 people who use the Roaring Branch zip code as part of their home address. A portion of those 1,100 villagers and outlying residents use Ogdensburg Road as their

street address—like Lance and Colleen Swarthout, whose property also borders Mill Creek.

The Swarthouts—unlike any other resident of Roaring Branch—have a sign erected beside their mailbox notifying passersby that it’s the home of Swarthout’s Skullworks. It’s been a few years since my first acquaintance with Lance and Colleen, and, since then, I’ve often wondered how many people have driven by that sign bewildered by its antlered skull logo.

The story behind the name is

as common as the roaring of Mill Creek: just ordinary people who achieved success through hard work and determination.

Here’s how Swarthout’s Skullworks evolved.

During the 2007 Pennsylvania deer hunting season, Lance tagged a nice buck. His pride in taking such a fine deer encouraged him to preserve it, not by a taxidermist, but by his own attempt. With no tanning or taxidermy experience, cooking the skull in a large pot of boiling water was the only means See Dem Dry Bones on page 22 21

Dem Dry Bones continued from page 21

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Lance had to accomplish his goal of creating a European mount—the whole head of an animal cleaned of all flesh, named for its popularity in Europe.

His efforts to end up with a worthy display turned into a failure. “There must be a better way to do this,� he thought. One day several weeks later, Lance had a business meeting in Williamsport with his employer PepsiCola. After the meeting, a co-worker invited Lance to his vehicle to show him something—a European mount of a whitetail buck beautifully done by a professional. Lance was impressed... very impressed!

What set that skull apart from the one Lance tried to preserve was the use of dermestid beetles to clean the skull, rather than a boiling process.

Boiling—as Lance learned from his virgin experiment—must be done with strict control. Over-cooking the skull will result in rendering the bones into a pitted, fragile condition. Plus, periodic scraping and removal of the flesh and other matter while the cooking advances can turn into a frustrating, time-consuming affair.

The labor involved is an absolute must, because any remnants left behind in the unseen cracks and crevices of the bone structures would eventually emit an odor that would serve as a dinner bell to uninvited critters.

Dermestid beetles—one of the hardest working insects known—use

See Dem Dry Bones on page 25

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$SJNJOBM $BTFT %6* 'BNJMZ -BX %JWPSDF $VTUPEZ "OE "EPQUJPOT $JWJM $BTFT 1PXFST PG "UUPSOFZ

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their size and voracious, flesh-eating abilities to locate and consume even the tiniest particles of meat and membrane. Moreover, the process causes no harm to even the most delicate bone structures.

When Lance returned home from that meeting in Williamsport, he immediately set to work researching dermestid beetles and their skullcleaning benefits. “For days he talked about how nice that skull looked that the co-worker had shown him,� said Colleen. “And for days he continued researching the subject until one day he announced, ‘Honey, I want to buy some bugs!’�

During his research, Lance wasn’t just acquiring facts about the beetles, he was also figuring out a way to utilize a beetle colony to possibly provide a future skull-cleaning service to local hunters and taxidermists. The nearest person who peddled such a service was ninety to one hundred miles away, and Lance saw that as an opportunity to fill the void in his area.

It would be foolish to purchase a colony just to clean what few heads he might collect in a season. After that, they would perish without a steady supply of flesh. So Lance began exchanging his idea with anyone who had an interest, especially Colleen’s brother who was a part-time taxidermist. “I’ll get the bugs, and you bring me the skulls from your harvested animals so I can practice,�

Point of view: skulls submerged in a degreasing solvent after the beetles have eaten their fill.

See Dem Dry Bones on page 25 23

WELCOME TO

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WELLSBORO

Lance and Colleen Swarthout proudly display an American elk skull finished with hydrographics, more commonly know as camo-dipping.

Dem Dry Bones continued from page 22

he told him. That was mid-2008.

In the meantime, some preparations became a priority—like where to house the beetles and conduct the process. A 240-square-foot wooden building in the backyard was the logical workbench...so to speak. “My great grandmother Swarthout used it as a canning shed,” said Lance. Over a period of three months, Lance and Colleen renovated the building and fabricated the equipment necessary for their trial phase. The plan was to collect a good supply of skulls during the 2008/2009 hunting season, and be ready to feed them to the beetles when they arrived.

Beetle colonies can be ordered in amounts from 100 to several thousand.

2,000 beetles will clean a deer-sized skull in three to five days. A colony of around 250 would need one to two months to multiply large enough to clean a deer skull in short order.

Despite the decomposing environment that beetles thrive in, they are still susceptible to pests. While searching a number of sources, Lance found a supplier in Alaska that guaranteed pest-free bugs, so he placed an order for 5,000. The price? $300. When the shipment arrived in January 2009, Lance was shocked to discover that See Dem Dry Bones on page 27

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Dem Dry Bones continued from page 25

the 5,000 beetles were a much smaller cluster than he had anticipated.

Once the beetles were transferred to their new home, the Swarthouts began monitoring their flesh-eating progress with the forty-plus skulls they had recently collected from hunters and taxidermists. It didn’t take long for them to see for themselves that their colony was too small and too slow, but time and reproduction would cure that problem, which they knew.

Dermestid beetles have swiftmoving lifecycles. A typical female will lay around 400 eggs during her 100-day lifespan. Eggs hatch in three days, and the tiny larvae will be fully developed beetles in about a month, at which time they are ready to mate and lay the next generation of eggs. By the time Lance and Colleen had completed their trial run of forty-plus skulls, the knowledge they had gained encouraged them to open their doors to the public in the fall of 2009. By December 31 of that year, they had taken in ninetyeight skulls. When the last of those skulls were finished, it was obvious that the Swarthouts had a problem—their building was way too small, and so was their freezer space, to store the skulls.

With many satisfied customers already spreading the word about Swarthout’s Skullworks, Lance and Colleen gambled on expanding. In July of 2010, a new building nearly six times bigger than the “canning shed” went up. To accommodate the skull storage, an eight-foot-by-twelve-foot walk-in freezer became part of the business, too. Good thing! Because by the end of that year, they had 471 skulls on the books—an increase of 373.

With business expanding, the hours spent taking care of customers started to run very late into the evenings. That’s when the couple decided that Colleen should quit her daytime job and focus on Skullworks. The European skull mount was obviously gaining more and more acceptance as a way to preserve a trophy. Antler restrictions

and other management practices were contributing to a higher success rate of hunters harvesting trophy-class animals, and skull mounting offered a very affordable and unique way to display them. Furthermore, skull mounts are a space-saver compared to the traditional shoulder mount.

For each skull that arrives, Colleen assigns it an item number, then records the date, item, customer, and specific process. As stages are completed, more notes are recorded. Once the hide is removed, skulls are stored in the freezer in numbered totes for easy retrieval of the next in line. Freezing the skulls prior to beetle-cleaning is critical to kill any parasites that might infect the colony. After the beetles have devoured all signs of tissue, the skulls are submerged in a degreasing solution to rid the bones of the oils that would eventually leach out in a yellowing manner spoiling the goal of pure white bone. Deer skulls normally require four weeks in the degreasing bath, while bears typically need six to eight weeks.

Skulls then spend a couple days drying on well-ventilated, properly lighted racks before going into a daylong industrial grade hydrogen peroxide treatment for whitening. Then it’s back on the racks to dry before the final stages of bonding any loose teeth and staining any antler material that was exposed to the peroxide. Mounting the skull for display is next, but that depends on the customer’s preference of a wood or metal mounting system, or nothing at all.

Turn-around time for the whole cleaning, bleaching, mounting process runs three to four months, but a large volume of skulls during peak season can sometimes stretch that out to six to seven months, explains Colleen.

“We took in 736 skulls in 2011, followed by 738 in 2012.” Add another 763 processed the following season and those numbers have imparted a great sense of pride in Swarthout’s Skullworks as a niche enterprise. And, See Dem Dry Bones on page 31 27

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Ugh! A Bug!

No question about it...they are fascinating insects. But these creeping, crawling critters known as dermestid beetles are happiest in conditions that we would label utterly, disgustingly putrid.

There are hundreds of species of these bugs worldwide ranging in size from one to twelve millimeters. A few common names are hide, larder, carrion, leather, and carpet beetles.

Most are scavengers of decomposing animal material, but some can be extremely destructive to clothing, household products, structures, and grains.

The beetles are most active in warm temperatures that range between sixty-five and eighty-five degrees. They are easily found in nature by observing a rotting carcass or other carrion, and they can survive for extended periods of time without food. Their total life span ranges from two to twelve months depending on the beetle’s species.

Besides taxidermy work, it’s not uncommon to find museums, universities, and schools in possession of dermestid beetle colonies as part of their public education and natural history departments.

They are also commonly used in forensic labs of law enforcement and game and fish departments to not only “skeletonize” a body or carcass submitted as evidence, but to determine the species and time of death. ~ Roger Kingsley

Dem Dry Bones continued from page 27

as more work keeps coming through the door, their products and services keep expanding from new ideas.

Artwork incorporated into metal mounting systems for skulls is one product that has become a Swarthout’s exclusive. It’s a joint venture that involves Lance sketching out the artistic wildlife/habitat scenes, while Jeff Tice Studios in Mansfield uses computer aided machinery (CNC) to produce them. Besides mounting systems, the black, powder-coated metal art also includes welcome signs, coat racks, key holders, furniture, and many other rustic home and camp decors. The wide selection of wooden mounting systems available is custom built by Sharp’s Woodworking in Liberty.

Hydrographics (camo-dipping) is another service that the Swarthouts have undertaken. Commonly used in the firearms industry on gunstocks and barrels, it’s a process that applies printed

designs to a variety of materials... including bone.

Lance and Colleen thoroughly enjoy the pleasure of conducting their niche business as a team. “It’s a dirty, stinky job,” they tell me, “but the rewards are the finished products, the satisfied customers, and the many friendships we’ve acquired in such a short time.”

To learn more about Lance and Colleen’s products and services, check them out at www.swarthoutskullworks. com or give them a call at 570673-5052. If you’re passing through their village, stop in and see their unique mounting displays at 4874 Ogdensburg Road.

A hunter and photographer, awardwinning writer Roger Kingsley’s articles and photos have appeared in Deer & Deer Hunting, and Pennsylvania Game News, among others.

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The Lunker

Luck, Be a Lunker Today

Jonathan Vail

By Fred Metarko

A

fter waiting out the never-ending winter, I was looking forward to and getting ready for a great fishing season.

But my status changed abruptly.

After two doctors’ visits with tests and x-rays resulting in medication increases, nights unable to rest and sleep, in great pain and with no appetite, I was admitted to the hospital.

I was in the capable hands of the doctors and nurses on the seventh floor at the Sayre hospital. There were more blood tests, x-rays, scans, medicated patches and rubs, and stronger medication during my five-day stay.

And—don’t you know it—some medications have side effects. I was released with restrictions and scheduled for physical therapy.

During therapy I was taped, given exercises, and maintained the medicated rub. After a few weeks of visits with improvement, I was released.

See Luck, Be a Lunker Today on page 37 33

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WELCOME TO

CORNING’S GAFFER DISTRICT

Luck, Be a Lunker Today continued from page 33

To add a little humor to all this, I had the therapist write a note to my wife Linda. It stated that it was okay for me to go fishing.

During my time out of commission I missed a few events. The first club tournament starting the season on Hammond Lake and the next three tournaments were over. A fishing trip to Canada with three fishing buddies was out of the question. Then a family get-together at daughter Lisa’s, on Kanasatka Lake in New Hampshire over the Fourth of July, was missed.

The irony is: all the above came about because I was washing and waxing my boat in preparation for the start of fishing season. While in an awkward position, stretching to reach under the boat to wax the spot in front of the motor, pain shot up my back and my troubles began. It was a long, long time to be out of action.

Finally, able to fish, my third tournament was on Honeoye Lake, one of New York State’s Finger Lakes.

I had the five-fish limit early and was culling through the day to upgrade my total weight. Casting far under a dock, I had a solid hit on my lure. As I reeled in the fish it went the wrong way around a far dock post. It was a nice one, splashing on top of the water. I thought: landing this one might be the lunker. I kept moving back and forth in front of the dock while letting out and reeling in line, hoping the fish would unwind itself.

All the while a man stood in his doorway watching.

He came to the dock and asked, “Is there a problem here?”

“Not really,” I answered. “I’m in a tournament, and I have a nice fish on that’s wrapped around the post.”

“I’ll help you,” he replied. Then, bending down, he said, “Okay, you can reel it in.”

There was no weight on the line. As he headed toward the house, he said, “I let it loose.”

Back at the weigh-in, finishing in second place, I told my story.

They said, “Really? How do you make up stories like this?”

“All my stories are true.” I replied.

Then they asked, “What did you say?”

Well, it wasn’t my first thought, but I said, “Thank you.”

The Lunker, award-winning writer Fred Metarko, is a member of the Tioga County Bass Anglers (www. tiogacountybassanglers.com).

37

WELCOME TO

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Suzan Richar Pat’s hat, in front of the glass bulb flag in the Penn Wells Hotel, where the Williwaws gathered to remember.

Heart of the Mountain

I’ll Be Seeing You

By Patricia Brown Davis

E

very year, at this time, my thoughts turn to a group of men whom I spent some time with one weekend out of the year, for several years. They weren’t from this area, but they’d made a sacred pact from years ago to, “See you next year!” They came for many reasons, which had grown out of one communal experience, World War II in the Aleutian Islands.

Every year the local hotel would receive a phone call from the group, to book rooms for a reunion. When I first met them, the group may have had around seventy-five veterans. From all

over the East Coast, they always ducked into town between the exodus of the fall leaf peepers and the influx of small game and deer hunters, when the town was relatively quiet.

The first time I walked into their meeting room, they looked like any senior tourist group. Even ethnic hints—from Euro to Asiatic—kept their mystery intact. I thought, “Why do they go through all they do, to come together every year?” They weren’t even from the same unit nor the same armed service. They represented the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, and the Marines.

Most never knew each other during the war, but they all had those islands— Attu, Adak, Kiska, and others—in common, a piece of history often referred to as “The Forgotten War.” People often remember Normandy and Iwo Jima, but forget the second bloodiest battle of the war was fought up there in the Pacific.

They were part of the hundreds of thousands that fought a war in the Pacific Theater to capture some very barren and frozen islands to give the United States a strategic placement to the Japanese mainland. Part of the See Heart of the Mountain on page 44 43

Heart of the Mountain continued from page 43

Bering Strait, the Aleutians were the ancient stepping stones of our ancestors who may have walked across on dry ground from Asia to North America.

The executive director of the Alaska Veterans Museum says being on the Aleutians is a mystical experience. “The winds speak to you, and one of the things they ask is: tell our story, don’t let us be forgotten, tell our story.”

These places braced themselves against the williwaw, the bitter cold wind that blasts the islands in excess of 110 miles per hour and could not be measured by the technical instruments of the ’40s. These men called themselves The Williwaws, and they made me an honorary member. They likened themselves to the piercing wind— stalwart, unyielding, and steadfast.

Their well-toned bodies, snappy walk, and uniforms had long been replaced by the physical, emotional, and psychological ravages of time.

Many had their spouses by their side; others wished they still did. Their yearly reunion bonded them ever deeper to their common past, to each other, and to the deep calling of their gathering.

They were first brought here by a member who loved the small town’s easy-walk atmosphere, and thought it a great venue for their group. Our town became their permanent meeting area. They gathered to celebrate life and liberty and to remember those who gave the ultimate gift—their lives. Yet, they 44

appeared to be a lighthearted group.

With them they brought their memorabilia, news clippings, photos, and souvenirs of war. They also brought present-day videos of yearly treks some took to lay memorial wreaths of edelweiss at monuments on these islands. I was touched by the presentday Coast Guard units based there, who appeared in full dress for these men and, before dismissing, shook hands with every veteran to thank them for their service in the ’40s.

The first time I met them, they came into the hotel’s lounge where I was playing piano and joined me for a sing-along. I recalled their delight at finding someone who knew their “good old songs.” Music was doing its part in healing old wounds of the heart and helping them remember why they chose to be on that dreaded place. Willawaws were participators in life for the long haul.

I adored that they held a talent night in which any might perform.

Most did—from silly songs or jokes to amazing card tricks or a sprightly softshoe. That’s where I came in. Would I play music for them, accompany their songs and dances, and play a remembered ’40s tune? Even after meetings ended, they’d hang out to spend more time together. Williwaws were reluctant to leave their posts.

A few confessed they didn’t ordinarily sing, but had a great time

trying when together. It touched my heart when I saw the wistfulness in their eyes as they sang “The White Cliffs of Dover.” I wept when I saw their tears go down their cheeks as they sang “I’ll Be Seeing You,” the song made popular as they left their families and sweethearts to head for war.

These men tasted life—the bitter and the sweet—and through their camaraderie found their own personal way to peace. The greatest treasures they brought were not visible—their spirit, sense of play and delight with old and newly found friends, and especially the hope behind their parting words, “I’ll see you next year!”

Sad l y, o ne yea r, t he g ro u p disappeared from our town, never to return. Perhaps the group had grown so small, and/or health restrictions prohibited many from traveling. Perhaps it became too painful to experience their dwindling numbers of friends.

Approximately 555 WWII veterans die daily, and by 2036 there will be no living veterans. Sixteen million men and women of The Greatest Generation served in WWII; only a little over a million are still with us. Pennsylvania and New York ranked fourth and fifth in the nation in the number of soldiers lost during the war itself.

Patricia Brown Davis is a professional musician and memoirist.

NASA/GSFC/Jeff Schmaltz/MODIS Land Rapid Response Team

Fog surrounds the Aleutians, stretching from just off the southwestern Alaskan mainland to the western Fox Islands

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&

DRINK

Flickr/alexkerhead

FOOD

Singing at the Range If Music Soothes the Savage Beast, Think What It Can Do for the Harried Chef

By Cornelius O'Donnell

I

’ve always thought I lived a pretty normal life. Mom was a stay-athome (until the last kid of four went to school all day), and after school I used to try to help in the kitchen (mainly), or run the vacuum or transfer the wash from the big round barrel washing portion to the attached spin dryer. That whizzing sound was unforgettable.

But I remember other sounds from the kitchen. So often it was my mother singing along with the hit parade, Disney, show songs, or, especially, a Kate Smith-sung ballad delivered at “high noon in New York.”

In our house the kitchen radio was turned on all day, but us kids were warned to ferme la bouche (a.k.a. shuddup!) when my Mom’s serious soap

operas aired or Saturday’s Metropolitan grand opera was on. She was mad for Portia Faces Life, and I learned that it ran from1940 to 1952 (thanks to a great listing online using “Soap Operas on Radio” or words like those. This is fun if you are a nostalgic senior—like me).

Those were the golden years of radio drama, and I’m old enough to See Singing at the Range on page 48

47

Singing at the Range continued from page 47

remember some of the tear-jerkers.

But I digress! Mom always claimed that listening to something (except for our whines) made the chores easier to execute. And that included the prep work for our main meal—dinner at six—when dad got home from the office. We’d sit at the table (chrometrimmed, with a red Formica top) and savored the aromas, along with my mother’s pretty voice, perhaps singing the Rinso white song…

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What’s Playing in the Kitchen?

Last month I came across an interview with Chef Jesse Sandler in the Wall Street Journal. He boasted, “I’m always listening to music in the kitchen.” But his music is a far cry from the organ themes for the 40s soaps. The chef explained: “I love Pearl Jam…am a Tool fan, a big Bob Dylan fan…(and) Nirvana and classic rock.” And I loved his final thought: “I’m using my hands in the kitchen.

Putting something together…and it feels right.”

I thought I’d do a little interviewing of my own, mixing creative home cooks and some of the professional chefs that I know. I wondered what they listen to, or if they do, as they prep and assemble lunch or dinner.

An hour after I got this wacky idea I was sitting in a room at the hospital undergoing a routine test administered by two technicians.

“What do you listen to when you cook?” They simultaneously declared, “I don’t cook.” “I microwave,” added one. So the sound she hears is the “bing” of the bell that says, “I’m micro-cooked.”

My friend Betty puts together her family meals just as the five o’clock news comes on her kitchen radio. So she chops to mostly depressing sagas all around us. This is not for me.

Probably the busiest and certainly most famous chef I know, Rick Rodgers, gave me a wonderful line.

He listens to Satellite radio in his New Jersey test kitchen, and turns the dial to Motown. Why, I asked? And he countered with, “It’s the energy of the music. That keeps me moving, and their familiarity is comforting and not distracting.” Go to his Web site and you’ll marvel at the quantity of books he has produced. And that doesn’t include the ghostwritten stuff.

Another friend doesn’t cook; his partner does that, but he makes what he calls his “magic spaghetti sauce.”

He says, “I always listen to the classic 70s.” He has about 200 on his iPod. “The success of the sauce depends on how loud I play the music!” he adds.

Thank goodness their home is on large acreage.

Dave Siskin, a local media personality, wrote me: “When I prepare my special concoctions it’s more seasonal, so certain types of seasonal music may be listened to.

However, in general I’ll turn to old standards either with vocal or instrumental, and I usually sing along if I can remember the words.” He sums up his philosophy thusly: “The world without music would B-flat.”

(Only he has the “flat” symbol on his keyboard.)

I loved Chef Michael Lanahan’s answer to my query. He presides at The Cellar in Corning and, well, let me let him tell you: “I listen to a wide array of music when I’m cooking.

Sometimes it’s my ‘yoga music,’ such as Deva Primal, Krishna Das, or some random chanting. [It might be] classic Frank Sinatra or Louis Prima or more modern jazzy, like Esperanza Spaulding, or a l’il more funky with Jamiroquai.

“But if it’s the thick of service at the restaurant, I need something that moves and has flow. This ranges from

Frank Black and the Pixies to groovy DJ Chinese Man. Regardless, there is always something adding mood to the food man.”

So Much to Chop, So Little Time Years ago when I was young and lithe (OK, it was many years ago) I would invite several friends for dinner after work. I was testing recipes but I never got to the store for ingredients much before five. What to do? There were big onions to cut, skins of tomatoes to remove, potatoes to peel—the usual. I’d go to my faithful record player, select Gaîté Parisienne from the rack of LPs, and chop away to the can-can. Super-Speedy, they’d call me.

Another friend has PBS-FM on all day, and she needs quiet. So she cooks in a hushed atmosphere… the better to hear the water boiling and the sizzle of something in a sauté pan.

Good home cook Denis isn’t fussy: “I listen to jazz, classical, and the oldies, depending on my mood—not on the kind of food I’m cooking. What an eclectic taste I have in music.”

My friend Mary Anne takes an “appropriate” approach when selecting music to accompany her food prep. “If it is for a more formal meal with the fancy china and silver, I put on something like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. That sets my mood. Anticipating a more casual, fun evening, I opt for maybe the Jersey Boys cast album with shades of Franki Valli.” (It’s all played through the computer at her house.)

Back to the Pros Chef Blake is a purist. He has to concentrate when he cooks because he may be concocting recipes for clients such as Campbell’s. He alternates his knife with a pen to record changes to recipes. So the only sounds in his spacious test kitchen are the whoosh of the big Viking range or the rat-a-tat-tat as a shallot or onion falls into little pieces. However, if it is Christmas time he puts on seasonal music while he makes great piles of delicious Christmas cookies for friends.

Another buddy, Brooklyn cookbook writer Phillip, told me: “I used to listen to rock. Now it’s too much trouble finding the station.” That’s Gotham for you.

I got a kick out of another terrific chef whose specialty is Chinese cooking. When I asked him about music to mince by, he said, “I like to listen to kitchen See Singing at the Range on page 56 49

Move Over, Pumpkin Pie A New Tradition for an Old Favorite

By Jo Charles

T

hanksgiving Day is fast approaching and with it come thoughts of the traditional foods served at our respective Thanksgiving tables. Here is a recipe to try that can involve the help of younger children. It is called Thanksgiving Pumpkin. It is a recipe that I found years ago and began making when our grandchildren were old enough to help.

Thanksgiving Pumpkin

1 small pumpkin about 7 or 8 inches in diameter (choose one with a nice flat bottom) 2 c. apples, peeled and chopped (Macintosh or Cortland are best) 1 c. raisins 1 c. pecans or walnuts, chopped ¼ c. granulated sugar 1 tsp. lemon juice ¼ tsp. ground cinnamon ¼ tsp. grated nutmeg ½ c. apple juice or apple cider 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Wash the pumpkin and 50

slice off the top to make a lid. Scrape out the seeds. Let the kids do this—it’s a messy job!

In a bowl, combine the apples, raisins, nuts, sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and juice or cider. Pour the mixture into the cleaned pumpkin. Cut the butter into small bits and sprinkle on top. Cover with the pumpkin lid and set the pumpkin on a baking sheet. Bake until the apples are tender, approximately 1½ hours (depending on the type of apples and the thickness of the pumpkin wall).

Serve hot or cold right from the pumpkin and make sure to scrape up a bit of the pumpkin with your serving.

The Thanksgiving Pumpkin is very versatile. Some like it in lieu of cranberry sauce, some as an additional side dish.

Serve any leftovers as a topping for vanilla ice cream or—my favorite—mix it in with oatmeal the following morning for a hearty breakfast.

Jo Charles is the pen name of a Tioga County resident who spent thirty years working in telecommunications. She enjoys traveling with her husband, planning family functions, cooking, canning, baking, and collecting recipes.

51

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chrisrealtorpa@yahoo.com

Connie Barger Broker Owner

LISTING IN TROUT RUN Home offers large Greatroom, with Woodburner. 2 new carpeting in Greatroom, large deck, fenced yard and a Freshly Painted Basement compliment the package. NEW PRICE $89,900! Call Karyn Eiswerth- Knerr for your personal showing at 570337-4375 52

Stunning executive home for sale on 6+ acres in Hills Creek Estates!

This jewel boasts 6-7 bedrooms, 5 baths, open floor plan, very large master suite, 2 story foyer, large kitchen, generator, multiple heat sources, 3 car attached & 2 car detached garage with finished upper story and game room. Finished basement is an apartment & offers potential rental income or ideal inlaw suite. All this situated just minutes to Wellsboro, lakes, state lands etc.

MLS 126228

Classy Wellsboro home with an open floor plan!

This 3 bdrm, 2 bath home has beautiful hardwood floors, large family room, private patio area, large backyard, paved driveway, new roof, and has been completely renovated. Walk to schools, shopping and downtown. Make this affordable and elegant home yours! Absolutely gorgeous interior!

$555,000 $174,900

MLS 125553

REAL ESTATE

www.npennrealestate.com

FIRST

Scott Bastian, Broker 570-662-2200

Serving Tioga, Bradford, & Potter Counties, and Surrounding Areas

PRICE REDUCED! Easy Access Pine Creek Cabin!

Breathtaking, Spacious Home!

Now Just $58,000 with OGMs, $55,000 without

Just $244,900

PRICE REDUCED! In-Town 2 Story Home with Potential!

Now Only $49,900

PRICE

REDUCED!

Now Just $159,900

Quaint

Home

in

PRICE REDUCED! Peaceful and Quiet!

Luxury Home with Cozy Feel!

Now Just $129,900

Only $185,000

Lovely Historical Location!

Just $45,000

M125180

Great Camp!

Just $650,000

M124445

www.twintiersrealty.com Check Them All Out Online!

Stop and Visit our Showroom & Design Center.

Meet with our kitchen & bath designers Jessica Wilson & Kieth Austin, CKD, CBD. Offering computer designs and onsite visits.

HOOVER HARDWARE

816 Canton Street, Troy, PA • Hours: Mon.-Sat. 7-5

570-297-3445 • 1-800-251-2156

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REAL ESTATE

Beautifully refurbished 3/4 bedroom home, located in-town, yet has a country living feel. Enjoy the wrap around deck, which is set up for a hot tub, looking out over the nicely landscaped yard and a view of the Cowanesque River. New roof gutters, all electrical wiring updated in 2010, newer appliances are included.

MTHDLM 126180

www.npennrealestate.com

Well maintained country ranch home. Many upgrades in this comfortable 3-4 home, located only .8 miles South of Route 49.

Enjoy the large backyard and small stream. Lower level has complete living quarters w/ full kitchen and with its own walkout.

MTHDLM 126157

$149,000

$164,900

Real Estate Excel A Barger Realty Company 1737 East Third Street Williamsport, PA 17701 Phone (570) 322-1991 Fax (570) 322-8747

Jo Fortney Realtor

PARADISE!!!

Cabin Dream Come True!! All of Nature Abounds!

Use as a Family Retreat or a Hunter’s Getaway with 4 Bedrooms, you have many Choices!! All Newly Remodeled and Ready for your Activities! Just Move in!! Call Jo Fortney at 570-233-4631 for your Personal Showing!

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REAL ESTATE

www.npennrealestate.com

Finally....your dreams of an affordable cabin in Northern Pa can be a reality! From design to completion, Black Creek will work with you to construct a home or cabin that you can be proud of. Experience the great outdoors in your very own cabin from Black Creek.

Visit us online for more info at www.blackcreekent.com

570-324-6503 8028 Rt. 414 Liberty, PA 16930 Located one mile west of Rt.15 along Rt. 414

Build Smart. Build Beautiful.

Build Brookside!

Our Smart Standard Features Include:

Take Advantage of Our Current Smart Incentives:

XI Plus™ R-21.3 insulated basement walls are warmer and drier

Granite kitchen countertops— an amazing attribute to your kitchen at no additional cost

Hybrid “dual-fuel” heat pump provides year-long comfort and energy savings Mastic vinyl siding with a minimum 50-year warranty in many colors/styles

Upgraded flooring in first floor hall, foyer, kitchen and breakfast areas—a FREE enhancement for high-traffic areas

Simonton Low E Thermopane tilt windows with grilles in the air space

www.BrooksideHomes.com/Smart5

BH01-42-113592-9

A True Nature Lover’s Paradise...

3855 Wood Hill Road Italy, NY 14512

109 acres with three stocked ponds, tranquil woods, and numerous wooded paths throughout the property. Two bedroom, one full bath, one half bath, loft, built in 2008. R259370

MARY ST GEORGE Licensed Associate RE Broker 97 Seneca Street Geneva, NY 14456

C: 315.719.8377 O: 315.226.1246 F: 315.325.4129 mstgeorge@nothnagle.com THIS IS NOT INTENDED TO SOLICIT PROPERTY LISTED WITH ANOTHER BROKER.

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Singing at the Range continued from page 49

Your Host, the Kauffman Family

E

njoy the views from our deck overlooking Pine Creek and relax with a drink in our bar.

392 Slate Run Road Slate Run, PA 17769

570-753-8414 www.hotel-manor.com

talk. I don’t watch, I listen.” (His huge TV is in an adjacent family room.) Then he added, “But once in a while on the Food Network, if I am lucky, we get the beautiful Giada di Laurentis. Then I stop and watch.”

Area chefs have their own favorites at the restaurant and at home. Take Executive Chef Garrett Saunders of the Blue Pointe Grille at the Watkins Glen Harbor Hotel.

In the Pointe’s kitchen (en pointe??), the staff listens to alternative rock thanks to a Sirius hookup.

Garrett learned to cook at his mother’s knee, and that meant listening to country western music, as he says it, “in the kitchen with Willie Nelson.” I was delighted to hear that nowadays he sings as he cooks. Why? Because I do, too. You should hear my sing-alongs with Pavarotti when I am making an Italian dish.

On second thought, maybe not.

He’s Made a Little List Who better to go to for advice on music than my old friend Bill Dollard, who is the music critic for the paper up in Hanover, New Hampshire. This is great—and you read it in Mountain Home!

By the by, Bill is also a superb cook. First he lists the chore, then his suggested music: Heavy chopping, as with a cleaver—Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring or Verdi’s “Anvil Chorus” from Il Trovatore.

For hand whipping—Mozart’s “Overture” to The Marriage of Figaro.

For frosting a cake—Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony—the principal movement of the first movement. (It may be the Unfinished Symphony, but do finish the cake.)

For gently folding things into a mixture—the principal theme from Von Suppe’s “Light Cavalry Overture” would be ideal.

For a respite between chores—the “Larghetto” from Handel’s Concerto Grosso No. 12, Opus 6, No. 6.

I hope one of my friends will give me some ideas for the rock or golden oldie or country genres. Why not send me your suggestions, c/o Mountain Home?

And happy cooking and listening!

Chef, teacher, author, and award-winning columnist Cornelius O’Donnell lives in Elmira, New York.

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Mountain Home

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B A C K O F T H E M O U N TA I N

What So Proudly We Hailed Photo by Sarah Wagaman

I

t was a crisp fall night, and I was shooting photos at my daughter’s volleyball game, which is why I had my camera with me. When we spotted the full moon on our way home to Wellsboro’s Hills Creek Lake area, I started hunting a great shot. It was waving at me on a lawn not far from home: a spotlight beaming upward on one side, the full moon blazing out from the clouds on the other. I knew I’d found it. ~ S.W.

58

Of The Southern Finger Lakes

Holiday Concert Sunday, December 14, 2014 4:00 pm

Clemens Center Elmira, New York

Anderson

Christmas Festival

Harnick/Shire

Everlasting Light (A Chanukah Anthem)

Biegel

Chanukah Fantasy

Adam

O Holy Night with guest Artist Michael Burrell, Tenor

Rutter

Cradle Song (A Cappella)

Bizet

L’Arlisien Suite No. 2

Tchaikovsky

Nutcracker Suite, Selections

Franck

Panis Angelicus with guest artist Michael Burrell, Tenor

Arr. Harris

O Little Town of Bethlehem

Williams

Three Holiday Songs from Home Alone

Sing Along Berlin

White Christmas

Anderson

Sleigh Ride

Toshiyuki Shimada Music Director & Conductor Tickets: Clemens Center Box Office 607-734-8191 or OSFL.org Adults: $45, $35, $15 Students: $8 (Processing and facility maintenance fees apply)

For Subscriptions to the 2014-2015 Season, Call (607) 936-2873 or Visit www.osfl.org

Susquehanna Health introduces our new cancer center in Wellsboro.

Now you can benefit from the same expert care that has made the Susquehanna Health cancer program one of the top ranked in Pennsylvania. No matter what type of cancer you’re facing, our experienced team of doctors, nurses, nutritionists and social workers are here to provide you with the most advanced treatments and unparalleled patient services. We’re setting a new standard for cancer care because it’s our mission to keep you Susquehanna Healthy.

Cancer Cancer Center Center at Soldiers at Soldiers + Sailors + Sailors Memorial Memorial Hospital Hospital

(570) 723-2855

I

SusquehannaHealth.org/Cancer