“I’m parboiling some squirrels.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and my answer to his question had clearly taken my friend Dan by surprise.
“Parboiling squirrels? Why are you always doing something weird when I call you?” he asked.
“How is it weird? I parboil squirrels before I fry them, and we’re having fried squirrel for dinner.”
“Chris, it’s weird,” he said before changing the subject.
I guess I can’t blame Dan for his skepticism and judgment. After all, in most circles it’s probably not a common response from a friend when you call to ask what they’re doing.
I imagine there have been many others taken aback by similar situations over the years when they catch me in the middle of some interesting or otherwise seemingly foreign wild game culinary exercise.
It might have been that I was skinning and quartering a porcupine, canning beaver meat, cleaning squid, or stuffing jalapeño grouse poppers. Maybe they caught me in the middle of deep-frying sunfish, preparing venison for corning, smoking a wild turkey breast or removing striped bass cheeks.
When it comes to wild outdoor fare, Emily and I prefer diversity at our table. Our passion and drive to catch, trap or otherwise harvest the major sources of our protein often leaves us with a surplus.
We are happy to hand over a couple fresh-caught trout or salmon to folks who can’t get out to fish anymore. It warms our hearts to dole out a few packages or jars of game meat to friends, family members, neighbors, and especially to those who need it far more than we do.
It’s common for us to show up at a gathering with some sort of wild game variation of a dish for others to enjoy and break up the monotony of a typical chip-and-dip spread.
At this point, it’s almost a given that I’ll be quizzed by nearly every hungry partygoer as to what critter they are about to put in their mouth. Smiles are the most common reaction, but some of the other looks are priceless.
Our knowledge, experience, lifestyle and dedication allow us to enjoy regular success in the outdoors, which we are tremendously grateful for. We count on fish and game resources to help fill our freezers, keep us fed and stay connected to the natural world.
But we also believe it’s important to keep in mind that just because we choose to pursue them while others do not, or cannot, the resources belong to all of us. And as such, they should be shared.
We embrace it as another welcomed part of the whole experience that leaves us feeling accomplished, proud and extremely satisfied.
Squirrel is a hard sell though. So is beaver. It’s also difficult to rally a hungry crowd into a frenzy over porcupine nuggets or striped bass cheeks.
But that doesn’t mean we won’t keep offering it all up for others to enjoy. Most are far more apt to be happy with a package of deer steak, a couple bear hot sausages or a few pounds of moose burger, which is great because there’s typically plenty of it to go around.
My friend Dan and I have hunted deer, turkey and grouse, plus we’ve been on two moose hunts together. We’ve fished for bass, perch and brook trout for years. But the more I thought about it, the more I recognized that while we both enjoy the outdoors, it is to varying degrees.
Dan is forced to approach the outdoors much more fluidly than I am. He’s able to take advantage only when the occasional opportunity presents itself between raising three sons, working a demanding career and balancing a long list of other responsibilities.
Still, his time afield suits him just fine. On the other hand, I rarely find myself able to disengage, and live to seek out most any hunting or fishing opportunity I can. My appetite for the field is borderline insatiable, and as a result, our freezers are far differently stocked.
We are truly lucky to have so much.
So, a few days after the squirrel conversation when plans were firmed up for Dan and his wife Crystal to come visit, meet our newest little boy and have dinner, I felt a little guilty.
The three gray squirrels I was preparing when he called were the last of our winter’s stock, and we took them for granted as an average weeknight meal. It would have been much better, and far more satisfying to share them with our friends so they could appreciate them as well, and enjoy a delicious, special meal.
I doubt Dan and Crystal will be disappointed in the menu though. While I’m not exactly sure what the main course will be yet, there’s still a rabbit in the freezer, and a few jars of canned beaver kicking around.
I’m sure Emily and I can come up with something wild to share.
