The Shepherdsville Times: Hollerin'
...People these days don't realize how the human voice can be made to carry without the aid of electronics. 'Hollerin' is almost a lost art...
Jerry Selby shouts the praises of a good hollerin' voice.
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A couple of weeks ago, I was standing in the kitchen talking to Avie, who was getting supper started, when my neighbor John, from down the road, and his teenage son Patrick, appeared at our back door.
'Is everything okay? Are you alright?' John sounded out of breath.
'Hi, John, Patrick. How are you?' I responded. 'Is something wrong?'
'We were working in the shop, and we heard you hollering, we thought you were in trouble,' Patrick said.
I must have looked pretty blank. Avie started to chuckle. Then I understood.
'Thanks, guys. I'm sorry I scared you. Is this what you heard?' I took a deep breath and raised my voice to the distance-eating high pitch I learned many years ago. 'KittEEEE, Hee-Yip, kit-kit-kit-kit-kit-kit. KittEEEE.'
They both started laughing when they realized. Nobody was getting killed. Just me calling my cat.
People these days don't realize how the human voice can be made to carry without the aid of electronics. 'Hollerin' is almost a lost art.
When I was a kid, most mothers could yell louder than that. And each one had a distinctive, recognizable holler.
'JerrEEEE! Chuck,' that was my Mom. Unless she was mad about something. 'Boys! Get in here now!' meant we were in trouble. Her voice would carry at least a city block, down alleys and into coal sheds, as needed.
'Billee. Bill Marshall.' That was Ethel Marshall, next door calling our best friend. Her voice wouldn't carry as far as Mom's so she sometimes beat on an empty pan with a spoon to emphasize her call.
As a teenager, I worked on a small farm, in an area with lots of hills and woods. Calling the animals in to be fed, milked, and such was part of the job. Every caller had distinctive calls for cows, pigs, and chickens. Critters knew who was calling, and paid no attention to a strange caller.
A good, strong call was a major time and labor saver. If you couldn't call them in, you had to take a stick along, walk back through the pasture, and drive them in.
When I joined the Army, my hog and cow calling experience served me well. I had learned the Manual at arms as a high-school student, and could call cadence loud enough to be heard by a platoon without straining my voice. Soon I was promoted to squad leader, then platoon leader. It is better to give than to receive. Commands, I mean.
For greater distances or larger crowds, you might need to cup a hand around your mouth, or even use a megaphone. But for most of mankind's history, the unaided voice was the principal means of communication. Hollerin' was a basic, unremarked and unremarkable tool. Another age-old skill on its way to obsolescence.
Duel at the bird feeder
Glancing out a kitchen window, I notice the Boss Dove is guarding his feeder. That seems to occupy much of his time. As I watch, a jay flies to the feeder. He runs at the intruder. It skips away, to the ground. Another jay lands next to him. He runs at it. It backs off. Still another one challenges. There are four of them, on the ground, a nearby branch, or the other side of the feeder.
They come at him one at a time, then skip out of the way before he makes contact. Like a movie of a pack of wolves, working on a straggler. It is a real surprise to see four blue jays in one place this time of year. And this little drama is a once-in-a-lifetime for me.
Eventually, the jays get tired of the game and go on about their business.
© Jerry Selby
