"... for proof that in an age of social isolation and online disconnection, people still hold on to the traditions that bring them together and make their hometowns unmistakably theirs. While I was in Sopchoppy, I asked Gary Revell, 74, why he still grunts for worms. He told me that the times he goes out at dawn in the forest behind his house, the sunlight filtering through the pines, are when he feels closest to God...."
Writes the photographer Nat Segebre, in "The Strange, Hyperlocal Customs of the Country" (NYT gift link)(lots of oddball photos at the link).

44 comments:
Great photos. But why the use of the word "hyperlocal" instead of "local"?
The NY Times sends one of its own out into the wilds of the United States and finds that they are not like New York.
I wondered about "grunting" for worms: "Worm grunting is an outdoor method used to trick earthworms into coming up to the top of the soil by making the ground vibrate. People often call this practice worm fiddling, charming, or gigging. It is a popular way to gather live fishing bait without having to dig deep holes
Gorillas in the Mist - An Ongoing Series (Season 10 Episode 3)
RC, because "local" refers to a one-block radius around your apartment or shared workspace. The "Hyper" actually implies distance and alien-ness, like "hyperspace".
Or so I surmise.
“People often call this practice worm fiddling, charming, or gigging. It is a popular way to gather live fishing bait without having to dig deep holes.”
Don’t they have a bait shop there? Or even better, a fish store?
"While I was in Sopchoppy, I asked Gary Revell, 74, why he still grunts for worms."
I thought I was having an Alexia moment there for a second.
Special Peculiar Liberal conceptions
I wonder what types of strange, hyperlocal customs they have at the New York Times?
"I wonder what types of strange, hyperlocal customs they have at the New York Times?"
They're working on getting socialism right, this time. Or so I'm told.
Everybody who's been to Sopchoppy for the worm festival stand up. *stands*
You can sit down now.
You get to Sopchoppy by taking a right at Panacea. I'm not lying. There's also the Sopchoppy Opry.
I'm not making this stuff up, mind you.
All this reminds me of the "Midsommer Murders" mysteries series where some unfortunate person gets himself murdered during a local village festival commemmorating some ancient tradtion or other.
I loved the one where a man has to sit backward-facing on a donkey and ride around in a circle while the women beat him with a ladle. Apparently it's a punishment for being a misogynist.
The best part of this story was "Sopchoppy." I think the writer rather enjoyed writing Sopchoppy over and over.
Interesting use a language I"m sure our host will enjoy. It speaks of worms that are used by "fishermen and women along the coast." So I read it as worms that are used by fishermen, obviously for catching fish. What do the women of the coast use worms for?
LOL Fred, you're probably right. Just more of "There be pygmies" reporting by the NYT's from darkest unknown America.
Though the author claims Fort Lauderdale as his hometown, I suspect he is a Nuu Yahwrker and totally clueless as to what is going on in flyover country. Not all of Florida is endless rows of condos and fabulous beaches. Sopchoppy is in what they call the Nature Coast that extends east of Apalachacola all the way around the Big Bend down to Cedar Key or so. Lots of old Florida in those areas, and several great bike trails I have ridden.
As Mason G mentioned, I don't think New York City shou;d open its mouth having elected a socialist mayor that is already an effin disaster.
The air of superiority just oozes from this article's author. Maybe he should be selected as Gator Bait, as that phrase is back as a thing in Florida after being canceled in 2020.
I've been to Sopchoppy. Pretty sure that's where I first had Brunswick stew.
OMG! I never ever thought I's see "Sopchoppy" in pixels. In the early fifties a friend of my father's was taken on her honeymoon by her huntin' & fishin' husband to a buddy's shack in Sopchoppy and never let anyone forget it until her dying day.
The example cited is not wrong....
“We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Lewis suggests that without the capacity for solitude, people cannot develop the depth required for genuine, non-superficial relationships with others.
Lewis was a bit of an introvert.
What "hyperlocal" means depends on whether you think the prefix is meant etymologically, or weather like so many other modifiers it has degenerated to a mere intensifier.
For most people I think it's the latter, and so I would take it to mean that 6 Foot Circle Of Safety From Covid that got voiced on us a while back.
Some info about the Pennsylvania rattlesnake round ups mentioned in the article: there are two every year. One in Noxen, PA and one in Morris, PA. Both are catch and release events. Both are also fundraisers for the local fire departments. They include musical entertainment, food, etc. The author should have visited the Grange fair in Centre Hall, PA. It's been going on for over 150 years. People come to the fair for the whole week and live in tents all week. They bring furniture and set their tents up like home away from home. It is the last tent fair in the country.
"He told me that the times he goes out at dawn in the forest behind his house, the sunlight filtering through the pines, are when he feels closest to God...."
That's reminiscent of the line spoken by the crofter in Hitchcock's "The 39 Steps" responding to his visitor's comment that he prefers living in the city to the country. The crofter's response: "God made the country."
I've always liked the comment, even though I can't say the same for the crofter.
Sopchoppy reminds me of Shipoopi. CC, JSM
Are the hyperlocal customs of Bushwick strange? We'll never know.
re: The best part of this story was "Sopchoppy." I think the writer rather enjoyed writing Sopchoppy over and over.
For more Sopchoppy, check out Tom T Hall's 1996 Songs From Sopchoppy.
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_llBMiFHPMFn3sBnondeiCAyK5mchJq8YU
Ann, take a listen despite Dylan's ill-conceived opinion of T
Strange, hyperlocal, customs?
Stick a shovel in the ground after dark and twang the handle repeatedly. This is how absolutely everyone got night crawlers before a day of fishing in Eastern Washington. We had no idea we were practicing exotic local folk customs.
"Night crawlers" always sounded kind of creepy.
I always liked how people were making and eating the world's largest bratwurst or lutefisk or putting up the world's largest statue of a pencil or screwdriver.
Then there is the International Pancake Race in Liberal, KS, which is still a women-only event, in spite of Enes Kanter Freedom.
I've been to the Chincoteague Pony Swim. Lots of urban elites attend, because they think horses are posh.
This is just regurgitation of "The New Yorker" magazine cover, "View of the World from 9th Avenue".
https://www.nypl.org/events/exhibitions/galleries/5-new-era/item/18968
There's a popular hyperlocal athletic event in New York City where young men vault over the subway turnstiles.
You’re all invited back next week to this hyperlocality….
'....What "hyperlocal" means depends on whether you think the prefix is meant etymologically, or weather like so many other modifiers it has degenerated to a mere intensifier....'
To me, it means this writer knows nothing about nothing, and therefore assumes that everything he sees out in Rube World is exceedingly strange and must be found only in that particular place, since he's never seen or heard of it before, ever.
The New Yorker is a great example of people that think they know most everything, and proceed to disprove it with almost every article they write, while blissfully unaware of it.
Note they didn't attend any Native American land rituals or academic hiring committees' verbal gymnastics. This is porn.
Do these idiot elite Socialists really believe they could attract a single rural person's vote this way? Journalism programs are even less useful than Seventies degrees in basketweaving.
People like baskets.
Colleen. There are many rattlesnake festivals throughout the West and South, though I did not know they occurred that far north. I've attended the infamous Dade City, Florida one. It's a very constructive activity. You don't want to lose a child or a dog or cat to them, nor some frail older people. But why the heck would you release them? They're deadly snakes. It belies rationality.
Tina, Apparently Colleen is first and foremost a do-gooder, so taking why rattlesnake roundups are held to an ultimate conclusion defies her.
Tina and Danno, Timber rattlesnakes are a protected species in PA. It is illegal to hunt, catch, kill or possess them without a venomous snake permit. The PA fish and boat commission has an article on timber rattlesnake conservation.
On his way driving from Austin to Sacramento to rejoin me last weekend, my husband stopped in Oatman, AZ, noteworthy for the wild burros that wander the town and surrounding countryside. He got out of the car, got our supposedly* dying dog on her leash, and brought her out.
A cute mama burro, trailed by her foal, approached, presumably in search of food, as people were feeding the burros from their hands - the town fathers and mothers had helpfully provided burro food for tourists.
"Look, Sadie," quoth my husband, "burros!" Burros who suddenly reared up and came stomping down, missing our dog by inches! (I have managed so far not to hit my husband over the head TOO many times with the fact that he knows perfectly well people put donkeys in their fields with their livestock for alarm and protection.) People were screaming! Sadie ran behind my husband (man's best friend indeed) and he bravely ran the pair off. A shopkeeper emerged from her shop and informed him, "You gotta keep your dog away from the burros - they'll kill 'er." In the words of my younger self, no duh.
We agreed that in a town where they provide burro food on the street, a sign saying, "These burros WILL attack your dog" would not have been amiss.
So. Not a hyperlocal custom, but a hyperlocal event, anyway.
*I forgot my asterisk. My supposedly dying dog is surely dying; her lymph nodes are huge. But she's still eager for her food, long walks now that she's in a place with cool mornings again, and cuddles, so she's taking her time about it.
I, for one, thank God that the journalist missed out completely on rural homesteader practices, from urinating on the compost heap to best practices for wringing the necks of the chickens. I refer one and all to YouTube for the details.
Content warning: The details are not only graphic but nauseating in some instances. Be warned.
“ why he still grunts for worms.”
8 year olds of the world unite. At least if you are not a Democrat you can just take invermectin.
I remember a very old Charles Kuralt on the road episode on worm grunting, it showed Kuralt and the worm grunter in the woods. He had a piece of wood in the ground and rubbed the top with a piece of metal, that must have been 40 years ago.
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