Spring is just around the corner, and that means ice cream hunting season is almost here. I’m so excited! During winter, all the ice cream migrates down to Miami where it congregates in retired autoworkers’ refrigerators until it’s safe to return home. Sadly some of the ice cream will never make it back to Georgia. If you wonder why that happens, just look at the average retired autoworker’s stomach. Mother Nature is cruel; but in Miami, she’s just evil. Don’t lose faith. Each year, enough ice cream migrates back to Georgia, and hunting season never disappoints.
Open season for ice cream usually starts just after Easter, but I’ve never really bothered with the official rules or the mandatory hunting license. I usually stake out one of the ice cream nesting grounds - Kroger, Ingles and Publix are my favorites - and just watch for a while to see what’s what. Usually, I can spot a few single servings of chocolate sitting by themselves, but every now and then I’ll flush out an entire covey of Rocky Road or a flock of Mint Chocolate! 1998 was a great year, and I bagged well over my limit of Dutch Chocolate. When that happens, I try to avoid the game warden, but she’s learned my tricks after this many years of marriage. Once, I had to let a whole bunch of popsicles go because they were “too small,” and I had to return a limited edition Ben and Jerry’s that she said was on the “endangered” list. But, usually I can catch enough to stock the freezer and eat like a king.
I really shouldn’t share my secrets, but ice cream hunting season is more fun if you have a buddy. The most important thing to ensure a good catch is to get up early in the morning, when the dew is still on the freezer door. You might be lucky enough to see the stock boy unloading Klondike Bars! Also, you have to dress the part. If you wear a clown outfit, you can usually get all the ice cream you want. No one ever stops a clown who has an armful of ice cream. So, I’ll see you in the freezer section right after Easter. Bring a few spoons and bowls, okay? We might have to field dress a quart of Vanilla Bean, and that’s really messy if you just use your bare hands.
David McCoy, a notorious storyteller and proud Yellow Jacket, lives in Conyers and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org