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Victory Feed and Seed

Corner of Victory Drive and Bull Street

(south of the Historic District 5 minutes driving)

231-0838

Open 7:15 a.m. Mon-Sat, Close 5:00 p.m. Mon-Wed, 6:00 p.m. Thur-Sat

Owner: Twyla Royal

 

those are pig's ears in the box

the adopted watchdog

 

The small oasis of Victory Feed and Seed sits on the corner of Victory Drive and Bull Street at the worn edge of small town living and one of Savannahs nicer neighborhoods. A double cusp of time and culture, it bridges a past era with today, and a ragged urban road with Ardsley Park. Though only minutes from Savannah’s historic district, it is a country Feed and Seed at heart. It looks right, smells right, and feels right. The dark red brick of the one story building and the almost ornamental iron grates on the windows are the perfect backdrop for the lush green sidewalk plantings and potted, take home plants. Cabbage, rosemary, and marigold plants crowd the sidewalk. At the front door, however, is where you realize that this is a relict of a time and a city that not so long ago was closer to the land, closer to work animals, and still dependent on vegetable gardens. The smell of feed permeates the dusky interior. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and to then absorb the mix of cultures and the lapse of time. The white oak baskets are tiered to display seeds and grains, but six varieties of dog biscuits fill the bins and spill onto the floor instead corn and fescue, a sure sign of an urban clientele. Yes, the bags of feed are there, stacked against the counter, piled between the aisles, leaning into the corners, but the bags are slick and sport dogs and cats and birds. Yet in the rear, squirrels skid about between shadowed mounds of horse feed and the bright air of the loading dock where bales of hay barricade the view of fast food signs and maintain a tangible link between history and to the Savannah of today.

Mr Royal sits behind the low counter, maybe watching tennis on a small TV set. Twyla, his daughter and now owner, waters outside, while- heavy with the heat of late summer- Sally, the twice abandoned dog with a predilection for seizures, stretches out on a stack of feed and only deigns to give a roll of one eye in your direction. It is an easy place to visit. There is no sense that someone expects you to purchase something, though the barrel of dried pig ears is a tempting gift for the dog in your life. It is enough to visit, add to the rhythm of their day, and maybe come back for a sack of dog treats sometime.  As you leave, Twyla wonders what is tearing into the feed sacks, Mr Royal scratches his head, the dog yawns, and the squirrel skips out the back door just as you walk out the front onto the freshly watered sidewalk.