Page from the Past: Churning for Catfish
From “Plantation Life Before Emancipation” by R.Q. Mallard
In his 1892 memoir “Plantation Life Before Emancipation,” Robert Quarterman Mallard painted a vivid picture of life in the antebellum South, including a unique fishing practice he called “churning.” Mallard, a Presbyterian minister and Confederate chaplain, chronicled the customs and daily life of plantation society, often with remarkable detail. Among his recollections is this lively account of a summer tradition that combined teamwork, resourcefulness and no small measure of daring.
“Later in the season, as the waters became low, our men and boys ‘churned’ for fish—a sport in which I sometimes shared,” Mallard wrote. “The operation was this: A flour barrel was taken, both ends knocked out, and the hoops secured; then a half-dozen boys and men, thus provided, would range themselves across a canal, and moving in concert, would each bring his barrel at intervals down to the bottom.”
The process required sharp reflexes and steady hands. “The moment a fish was covered, its presence was betrayed by its beating against the staves in its efforts to escape; when the fisherman instantly covered his barrel with his breast, and with his hands speedily capturing it, threw it to the little boys on the dam, who quickly strung it upon stripped branches of the sea myrtle tree.”
But churning wasn’t without its dangers. Catfish, with their sharp spines, posed a challenge to the uninitiated. Mallard marveled at how the experienced fishermen handled them: “How they managed to handle the cat fish, with its sharp and poisonous spines, I cannot imagine; perhaps their horny hands were impervious to them, as they were to the live coals of fire which I have often seen them transfer with naked fingers from hearth to pipe.”
The greatest peril, however, came not from fish but from unexpected encounters with water moccasins. “Sometimes (an experience of which I have a lively personal recollection) a moccasin was covered, and then there was a rush to the shore, minus barrel.”
Mallard’s account is a window into a time when fishing was as much a test of courage and ingenuity as it was a means of survival. The methodical rhythm of churning barrels, the excitement of the catch and the ever-present risk of danger make this a tale of resilience and resourcefulness that endures in the imagination.
