Saskatoon Picking

It’s saskatoon picking season. You know the ones; those plump, indigo orbs that sweeten pies, pancakes, and summers alike. There’s no mistake wondering where you’ve been when you appear with purple or bluish stain on your lips and face.

 As a kid, picking berries was an exciting adventure. Dad would drive our entire family to various wild saskatoon patches, and we would all have a hand in the gathering of great quantities of saskatoons for the winter larder. Mom would always hand out the pails before we started. “Don’t eat too many, lets get some berries in those pails”. Before the days of plastic ice cream pails, us older kids would have a small metal lard or syrup pail with a handle we could tie onto our belt leaving both hands free for picking. Our younger siblings would go with Mom. I’m sure that was a fun experience for her! (Yes, that was sarcastic!). In later years, plastic ice cream buckets were the official berry picking vessels for everyone!

It was easy to fill the bucket when the berries were hanging like grapes on the lower outside bushes with very little reaching but it was also fun to go inside the bush where no one could see you. It was an escape from the heat sometimes too. If you looked up, it was a live, seemingly happy, green canopy waving in the breeze and it concealed your location. The best bushes were on what we called the “Fox” hill. There was a road beside the bushes that went to the river. When we picked on the “Fox” hill, drivers would drive by and never see us if we were inside the bush. We felt like spies! Some of you just experienced déjà vu!

We tried to do a visual check of the berry patch for wasp nests before we started picking. One day my brother was moving through the middle of the bush and ever so slightly disturbed a hidden wasp nest. Despite the instructions to move slowly and quietly backwards, he immediately exploded backwards out of the bush, arms flailing, saskatoons flying in every direction. Wasps are highly motivated when it comes to defending their property. They streamed out of the hive in a yellow swarm. After he cleared the bush, my brother ran with a living, buzzing cloud in hot pursuit. My cousin was brandishing a bucket like a shield. Someone was yelling advice that no one could possibly hear over the din. The rest of us, startled by the sudden commotion, jumped into action; some of us running, some diving for cover behind bushes, and dropping buckets, and generally achieving a hilarious level of chaos! There was only a single unpleasant sting out of that episode. (A reminder to be very careful because of serious reactions to stings!) We still got a good picking that day!

Another day I was riding my horse, Snoop, checking cows and had my ice cream pail tied on the back of my saddle with the thought of stopping on the river hill for some saskatoons. As I approached the berry bush, I noticed my horse changed his countenance, ears moving quickly and changing direction signalling something “not right”, and he cautiously slowed his pace. I stopped far enough away to be safe and heard the sound of a large animal moving with crackling of branches and a little grunting right in the middle of my destination patch. A black bear had been seen a little further over on the river hill a few days before and I wasn’t taking any chances. I’m sure that bear wasn’t willing to share his dinner with me. My horse was relieved to leave post haste.

These days I can hardly wait for the season to arrive. For children, it’s an adventure; for elders, a bridge to days gone by. The tradition of saskatoon picking endures, woven into the fabric of prairie life. I’m sure you know at least one person who picks saskatoons. Each season brings a renewed appreciation for the land that sustains us. Let us enjoy the sweetness of summer and the magic of saskatoon berry picking.