Somewhere Down Rosemary Road...

Chances are the second and third generations of Kyser Farms are tending catfish right now!

Following in his father’s footsteps, Bill Kyser heads the family-owned business, and it’s a round-the-clock lifestyle. A typical day might bring Bill home around 9:30 p.m. to eat supper after a grueling day digging trenches. Water must be diverted during this summer’s extreme drought. Youngest son Ashley will be up at 2:30 a.m. to check ponds, and oldest son Townsend will be out by 4:30 to help harvest fish.

Meanwhile, Bill’s wife, Beverly, will care for their 10-month-old granddaughter (the fourth generation) in the morning. The previous day, she bush-hogged bone-dry grass in preparation for the possible arrival of a congressman who wanted to tour the catfish industry.

She is the same woman who willingly left big, modernized Birmingham more than three decades ago to marry a fish farmer, only to discover they had no phone line for their first house!

“I thought, oh my goodness, where have I moved?” she laughs now. The area was just too rural for the phone company to extend a private line any time soon. But she adjusted, and Beverly says the farm isn’t just about their own livelihood or the satisfaction that came from raising their family here. “Bill is one of the most unselfish people I know and tries to do what is right for everyone.”

That's why the Kysers aren't just in the community but are part of the community, both farm-wise and town-wise. These quintessential Southerners use their gift of hospitality to open their home and hearts to neighbors, congressmen and roaming busybodies like me!

PHOTO: The Kysers together

Helen asked about the term "bush-hogged." The word is taken from Bush Hog, a company that invented a mower for pastures. So, if I go "bush-hog" the back 40, I'm gonna go mow with a big cutter behind a tractor!

Welcome to Catfish Bytes

Good morning…or good evening!

Whatever the time of day at your place, welcome to Catfish Bytes, a blog about life in Catfish Country.

While much of The South qualifies for that title, I live in Alabama’s Black Belt where catfish is king, and community is a big front porch with a great double door. Just go on in and help yourself to pot-luck suppers, church homecomings, historic pilgrimages and Friday night football.

Named for the color of its dirt, the Black Belt is a mostly rural area once covered by a shallow sea. Scientists come around now and then to dig up fossils of dinosaurs, sea turtles and other creatures. No kidding!

Then some 40-plus years ago, farmers discovered that if they dug a pond in the prairie clay, the hole would hold water. If they stocked it with catfish, the mineral-rich soil would help sustain their crop. Then, if they harvested the fish, buyers would come, ready to get the bounty home for a catfish fry!

That’s how a region that once was the Camelot of the Cotton Kingdom changed its identity. Yet, the Black Belt is known for a whole lot more…Spanish moss, wide prairies, antebellum mansions, hunting camps, rivers and more rivers, and well, a place where tourists come to see the authentic South!

It’s a destination explored by Hernando Desoto and trod by Civil War soldiers and Civil Rights activists. Visitors flock to heritage trails, museums and events.

It’s also a paradox— Old South and New South—a place where former sharecropper cabins still exist and foreign auto suppliers build parts for their cars.

It’s where the politics often has a deep-blue hue in a very red state.

It’s where the natives still say “y’all,” and California transplants live in Tara-type homes and say “you all.”

It’s been my home since I was barely walking, and before that, the home of my parents and grandparents.

So, welcome to my Place on the Blog where I’ll share Catfish Country with you: its heritage, its present, its people and their dreams, and oh yes, recipes…catfish for sure!

PHOTOS: Greensboro water tank and Magnolia Hall