Have any of you ever seen frog legs on a restaurant menu. I know "Blackie's Steak House" in DC served them at one time. Often they are on Chinese Buffets. Well, that's what gigging is all about. Spearing the big bull frog and taking him to the poor sucker that has to make those legs pan ready. A gig can best be described as a spear with a long handle.
I hasten to say I have never eaten one and never will! It's disgusting to me now and was disgusting to me then, too. But I wanted to be as "in-the-know" as the adult siblings. One of those girls was the sister who is now 91 years old and lives in Palm Springs, CA. Another lived in LA's Hills, and the eldest lived in Atlanta. The incident that I wrote about last evening happened during a family gathering.
Now how one goes about gigging: You need at least three people. One to paddle the canoe and to hold the sack that the frogs are put into, one to hold a flashlight (you do this just after twilight), and one to gig (spear the frog). The flashlight person shines the light along the banks of a creek or waterway where you can hear the bullfrogs calling. The light catches their eyes and the person with the gig has to spear the thing really fast. When the frog is on the spear it is put into the sack and the process begins all over again. (You never have to touch the frog.) The problem was that I didn't know bullfrogs had really tough skin - you have to hit hard. I was gentle and the big boy jumped, peeing into the boat. The rest is in yesterday's blog. I was in disgrace the rest of the evening. A few tears in the morning made me everyone's pet again.
Now you know the rest of the story. I wish I could say this is the only such mess I got myself into, but it was just one of many.