An old clothes ringer mounted on a wood framework rested in front of the old tar-papered fur shed. Used to squeeze out every last drop of water from pelted hides, the ringer’s gears had remnants of animal hair stuck in the teeth of its cogs. There was no need for WD-40 or 3-In-One Oil to keep things lubricated. The natural oil left over from a piece of fat missed by the pelting knife kept the toothy wheels from rusting. For years around the holidays, when the weather is usually the coldest, we’d gather at the camp on Leopard Bayou. Grandparents, adult ...