In this month's River Journal I write about Redneck Lobstering aka the fine art of catching crawdads.
When my beau asked me if I liked the taste of lobster, I thought he was gonna take me out for some fine seafood.
I didn’t realize I’d be spending the day foraging for my own dinner underneath slime-covered rocks in some river. I say some river because I’ve been sworn to secrecy.
I can only say it’s somewhere in this state or the one next door. If I gave up my man’s top-secret Redneck Lobstering digs I think it could go on my permanent record.
I’m not gonna push it.
Especially since I’ve tasted these babies.
Call them crayfish, crawdads, mudbugs or crawfish.
I call them Redneck Lobsters.
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