Lex Anteinternet: Some feral threads in the fabric.

Lex Anteinternet: Some feral threads in the fabric.

Some feral threads in the fabric.

I'm not going to take this too far, and you definitely could, but a couple of odds and ends I've run across recently.


One is this Agrarian blog I recently located:

Foothill Agrarian

There are only handful of really worthwhile agrarian blogs around.  That's at least better than the situation with the distributist situation, where there's nothing worthwhile whatsoever.  Of the handful that are out there, the two best ones are linked in here.  A third one that is also worthwhile (which is a successor to two prior blogs, just as this blog also is), is also linked in, but it's not quite as good.  I'll do a thread on them some other time, or on all of these together. A fourth one would get a link for its actual agrarian posts, but it descends into "Southern Agrarianism" of the Lost Cause variety, and we're not going there.  Nope, no way.

Anyhow, I thought that this entry by an agrarian California sheep rancher, who is an adult entrant into hunting, really interesting.  He's also a self professed agrarian.

Persistence

We've posted a lot about hunting here, from the prospective of the nearly feral agrarian who has been a hunter his entire life.  It's interesting to see some similar views come about from the thoughtful agrarian adult who came to it late.

I haven't made it all the way through the back entries on Foothill Agrarian. Not by a long shot, but I was also struck by this entry:

Coming to Terms with Being Part-Time

This is a little like reading my own thoughts.  Indeed, this guy is just about the same age as me (I'm a little older), and he's a rancher, not a "homesteader", which anymore conveys something else, and frankly something less serious, or perhaps less realistic.  I'll be looking forward to perusing his prior entries.

I'm glad I found his blog.

Here's the other thing that caught my eye.

This quite frankly is a deceptive headline, but that's how it generally reads, even in English language editions of Finnish newspapers.  What it really means is that the City of Helsinki will be changing what it serves at official state and municipal functions, and venues it owns, and it actually still will be serving meat.

What it will serve is local fish and also local game.  We don't see wild game as a restaurant item much in the US, and indeed its subject to very strict statutory provisions everywhere.  Why peole make the distinction between fish and "meat" baffles me, but they have here.

This is being done, maybe, by Helsinki (its drawing a lot of criticism) to reduce, it claims, its carbon footprint.  There's a certain "m'eh" quality to this as frankly the concept that bovines are farting the plant into a climate crisis is not really well thought out.  Humans are omnivores and meat is part of our diet, including meat that is raised by farmers and ranchers.

Having said that, I've long been an advocate for getting your own meat directly, and therefore I'm somewhat applauding Helsinki here, probably surprisingly to those who might know me. They're emphasizing local fish, which is something that people of that city probably mostly subsisted on until the mid 20th Century. And hunting wild game has always been a big part of Finnish culture, and still is.

Now, I'm not advocating for what Helsinki did, and I suspect that the Woke city counsel of the city, or whatever its administering body is, won't have this in place long.  I'm a stockman and I'm hugely skeptical of the cow fart accusations on the climate.  Depending upon how cattle are fed, this is not the problem its made out to be, and so to the extent its a problem, and there's always been ungulates around all over, it can be addressed.  But I find it really surprising that in 2021 I'll occasionally find even ranchers and farmers who don't hunt.

People should get their meat locally if they can, and included in that, is getting it directly from the field.  Its healthy, and honest, and connects you with reality in a way that going to the stocked shelves at Sam's Club doesn't.


Lex Anteinternet: Momento mori.

Lex Anteinternet: Momento mori.

Momento mori.

I can't recall exactly when it was, but it was some point while I was in university. As I don't remember it being right when I first went down to UW, I suspect it was when I went to law school, which I would have started in the fall of 1987.  I was supposed to start in the fall of 1986, but I had reservations about it, so I held off for a year, and my mother was also deathly ill as well, so I had reason to return home.

I'll leave that story for some other time, but what I recall is that I went back down to UW and at the start of law school I was under the impression that it was going to be really hard. Truth be known, law school, and I suspect any law school, is an incredibly easy course of study.  Indeed, one of the first deflating things about becoming a lawyer, at least for me, was to realize how easy law school was. [1]   I'd just gone through an undergraduate course of study in geology, and that was very hard.  Law school involved readsing cases and knowing what they held.  Any idiot can do that.

Anyhow, the first year I didn't come home much to my old hunting haunts as I thought the finals as the end of the semester were going to be really hard and I couldn't afford the time off.  M'eh, they were not.  That did establish a course of conduct, however, in that throughout law school I didn't come home for Thanksgiving. It was right before finals and I always used it to study for finals.  I didn't go home for Spring Break either.

Somewhere in there, I came home and found to my surprise that my father hadn't gotten his antelope.  He had gone out after I had come home and got mine, but he didn't get one that time and didn't get one at all.  It was a shock.  Even my mother, who was quite ill, remarked on it, and she'd gone out with him, whihc was also very surprising.

More surprising is that he hadn't hunted waterfowl at all.  

It concerned me as it didn't seem like him.

When I returned from law school, he was much his old self, but slowed down.  He still fished regularly when the streams opened back up.  He went with me when I hunted antelope and sometimes deer (he never took weekdays off to do these things ever, but back then I would).  He helped, and by that I mean did almost all the work, butcher a moose and an elk I shot back then.  But he also was getting a little absent minded, enough that I noticed.

The year he turned 62 he was too sick to go antelope hunting with me and my good friend Tom.  I knew he must be really sick, as he'd never cancelled on anything like that ever.  He died the following April, never recovering from what started off like a cold.

This has been on my mind.

It's not on my mind as I'm missing hunting season.  I'm not.  But it has occured to me that I've become so busy in recent years that I'm now like my father.  I don't take weekdays off to go, unlike when I what I did when I was younger.  At some point my father went from a schedule that was six days a week, with half a day off on Wednesday and half a day off on Saturday, to all of Saturday off, and retaining the half day off on Wednesday, but he still started work incredibly early.  For my part, over the years I've reached the point where I work six days a week nearly every week and sometimes seven days a week.  

The past year, or indeed ever since the onset of COVID, I've been really busy. Things may have slowed down for oether people, but they sure didn't for me.  So I've had my whithers to the yoke the entire time.  So I'm a bit tired right now.

Which is what my wife tells me is going on here.

Well, during the really busy run up to a trial I started waking up early, as in 4:00 a.m.  Recently that retreated back to 3:00 a.m, then a couple of times after that, it started crowing 2:00 a.m.  At that point you have to do something and so I'm not back to sleeping into 5:00 a.m., thank goodness.  But I'm just back to that.

Deer season has been wrapping up.

I didn't make the weekend before last out, as I had to work one of the days (I ended up working on Sunday) and we shipped cattle on Saturday.


No problems there, up at 3:00 a.m., worked all day, came home, ate out, and then up for Mass the following morning.  And off to work after that.


That meant that I didn't go out for deer that weekend, but I met my son in a new area that we tried the following weekend. And that went fine.  Up at 3:00, drove to Medicine Bow, met him there and hunted all day, without luck.


That takes me to this past weekend.

It was a frustrating week for a lot of reasons, some of which I'll not go into detail with but which make me feel a lot like John Daly, the saddle maker, in the 1920s.  Anyhow, I had to work again on Saturday, which I did until a little after 2:00 p.m.  About that time I knocked off and stopped by Our Lady of Fatima for confession. That took a little longer than I'd anticipated as the pastor was ill and a substitute priest came from downtown, but he was a bit late.  I stopped at the sporting goods store after that, thinking about getting a replacement 15 watt gmrs radio for the Jeep to replace one I'd recently bought which was defective.  I went home after that, getting home a little after 3:30.

I'd thought about going to Mass that night, and asked Long Suffering Spouse about going, but in the end we went to the across town sporting goods store instead.  I was just pretty fatigued by that point for some reason, with the suspect being that I"d bee up since about 2:00 a.m.  I'd have been better if I went that night, as that would have given me all the next day to go deer hunting, but I was simply worn out.  I ddin't even get ready to go the following day.

The next morning I slept in to about 4:00 a.m., much later than I'd bee doing, and felt pretty good.  While I was tempted to skip breakfast (I think eatinng three meals a day has contributed to my earlier rising for reasons I'll skip going into), I intead made two breakfast sandwiches with eggs, Canadian bacon and cheese, which is a gigantic breakfast for me.  I don't really know what I was thinking, quite frankly.

I continued to feel fine until about halfway through Mass.

About that time, I was hit by a wave of fatigue that's difficult to describe.  I attributed it to eating a big breakfast, but about the same time I began to feel odd.  By the time I left Mass I was definitely feeling odd.  At home, I briefly considered staying home for the day or switching to nearby duck hunting, but that was conceding I didn't want to, so I loaded up and got ready to go.  By that time, I didn't just feel sleepy, I had a toothache where my one remaining wisdom tooth is located.

Now that might require a little explanation.

I was born with wisdom teeth, having a full set of four.  When I was a teenager they started to "erupt", and my father pulled out the top two when it was convenient to do so.  We always think of oral surgeons doing that work, but he did it for me as a result dentist.  And both of them were removed without pain or inconvenience.  I amazed at the time when people complained about how painful this process was, as it wasn't for me.

But he didn't get to the bottom two before he died.  For the most part this hasn't been much of a problem.  They'd erupt from time to time, but generally that would pass with there being only a little pain while they were erupting.  

Once I was in my fifties, however, I began to break molars.  And I broke one that was near my back left wisdom tooth. When that one was pulled by the oral surgeon (it was cracked right to the base in three pieces), the wisdom tooth in that area was removed as well.

That left just one.

This wasn't a problem until just the other day.  I cracked the molar over there, and it was crowned, just like its opposite on the other side, leaving one molar between it and the wisdom tooth.  The crown came in just last week.

All of a sudden, on Sunday morning, the wisdom tooth made its presence very much known.

It started hurting, and that went from annoying to really noticeable.  I ignored it however, hoping it would go away.  I packed up, and drove off.  By the time I left the gas station, I had an incredibly dry mouth, and it was really hurting. This grew worse and worse as I drove out to where I wanted to hunt.  I finally reached a place I wanted to check my maps and stopped.

By that time I was incredibly sleepy and in a huge amount of pain.  I got out a canteen of water I had with me, checking its appearance (I filled it up about two weeks ago), and took a drink. The drink tasted good and I sat in the truck for a while contemplating the maps. By now it was foggy and wet and had snowed, I was tracking mud, and we still had a very long ways to go.

Normally I  would have done that without hesitation.

Well, I hesitated.  I felt so sick, I turned around to head back in.

Driving back in quickly became dicey.  I was driving much slower than normal just due to the fatigue and the pain.  To add to it, my tongue started to swell up on one side, the side that the wisdom tooth was on.  I began to worry a little, but just a little, that I wouldn't be able to make it all the way back in, but then I was calmed by the double realities of being in far too much pain to accidentally fall asleep and that I had no other choice.  No other choice really focuses a person.

I hit the highway finally, by which time I took the truck out of four-wheel drive as it seemed like the weather had improved.  I started coming on in the hour-long highway speed final leg of the trip, still keeping my speed down.  I was doing highway speed, but not high speed, which was in part because of the road still being wet.  As I crossed the road where the bridge over the Power River is, I realized it was more than wet.


As I approached the accident scene, I knew what had happened. The Dodge truck, just like mine, had slip on black ice, its sudden disaster created in part because it was towing a trailer.  It had happened on the bridge.  It' had made it over the bridge, by which time the disaster was on.  It had gone off the road and the trailer had rolled.  One of the truck's windows was out.


I was headed towards the bridge myself of course and I knew that it had black ice, and I was in two-wheel drive.  I'll go into four-wheel drive at the drop of a hat, but there was no time to do it now.  Normally this would be pretty tense for me, but it wasn't.  Just hurt too much.  Up the hill I drove through what I knew to be a fatal accident site in bad weather from just a couple of years ago.  I stopped in Powder River and went into four-wheel drive.


By the time I got home, I didn't feel so bad, but I didn't feel great.  My wife recommended I take some Tylenol, but the tongue swelling had gone way down.  About 4:00 I drank a glass of Irish whiskey, very slowly.  I had a second over dinner, very slowly, and started to feel a lot better.  I stayed up as long as I could, but when it was obvious that no Trick or Treaters were going to common in the 20F weather, I went and took a shower and hung on for bed.  

On Monday I mostly felt a lot better.  The mouth pain still comes and goes.  I probably ought to call the dentist.  I recall my father telling me that oral infections have the risk of being fatal, simply due to their location.  The plan was, after all, to take that tooth out.

So, what of this experience, and those leading up to it?  When I was a kid in the 70s I recall watching in math class in junior high, for some inexplicable reason, a Disney cartoon that was filmed in the 40s, probably for industrial workers, reminding them to stay home if they were sick. The film took the position that a cold was nature's way of making you take a day off.

Maybe.

Or maybe it's an opportunist predators chance to take something out, as it's worn down.  Slow moving member of the herd so to speak.  Or, more accurately, somebody who have worn themselves down through long hours and stress has a bit of a weakened immune system, maybe.

Still, maybe that means take some time off.  That's hard to do, however, with things rolling on by.  Or at least so I imagine.  Perhaps it's often we imagine things that way.  Not like a month or anything, but a day or two.

World War Two Office of Defense Transporation poster.  Vacationing at home was no doubt easier prior to the cell phone and all of its electronic intrusions.

So perhaps none of this is as ominous as a person might suspect.  At 58, I'm in a lot better shape than many, probably most, my age.  But other than trying not to pack on too much weight (something I've always tried not to do, but I've always had to be careful about it), and being the beneficiary of my father's strong genes and my mother's athletic ones, I haven't been as active in any fashion as I used to be.  I don't have a regular exercise routine like I once did, which was based simply on the 1980s Army Physical Fitness Test and walking or riding my bicycle to work. [2]  And that's not really good. For some time, I've thought I should get back at it, but that's difficult when there are reasons you need your car at work and that you don't feel like doing much when you get  home.

Still, as noted in a prior entry, the scene from No Country For Old Men put in above makes more and more sense to me as time goes by, and like Servant of God Black Elk, I agree "“Death? There is no death, only a change of worlds.".  That's pretty evident.

And I'll be back out there next weekend.  Probably for waterfowl.  Deer has closed.

Footnotes.

1.  There are a whole series of things like this.

Being a lawyer is really hard work, but you soon find as a lawyer that the field isn't populated by super genious of a Wil E Coyote level. There are huge intellects in the law to be sure, but you also encounter some folks whom you know aren't Albert Einstein or  Richard Oppenheimer.

One of the big deflating things is the poor quality of oral argument, I'd note.  I've been to the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals twice, and when you do that, you sit there waiting for your turn, listening to the prior arguments.  As a rule, they aren't great.  Indeed, all in all the arguments I've heard at the Wyoming Supreme Court have been much better.

2.  I'm not a "gym" guy and simply couldn't bring myself to do that, even though some of the gyms around here have swimming pools.

My mother was a fanatic swimmer and bicyclist which probably helps explain her remarkably physical condition after she recovered from her long illness.  She basically went from somebody on death's door to somebody in their high 70s who was incredibly fit.  Indeed, her really fit condition helped stave off, in my view, her ultimate mental decline, and when she suddenly quit her physical activities, I knew that something was very badly wrong.

Lex Anteinternet: Friday October 7, 1921. 4H Clubs and Baseball Clubs.

Lex Anteinternet: Friday October 7, 1921. 4H Clubs and Baseball Clubs.

Friday October 7, 1921. 4H Clubs and Baseball Clubs.

A Third year high school girl in the chemical laboratory, - Greenbank Consolidated School, Oct. 7, 1921. Location: Pocahontas County, West Virginia

A photographer spent a second day documenting the lives of teenagers and the condition of schools in West Virginia.  In doing so, he took this photo of a "third year" (either a junior or a senior) girl in the chemical laboratory.

The photos speak volumes. She's of our age, but not  Very plainly dressed and very adult looking.

On this day in 1921, The New York Giants beat the Yankees 13 to 5 in Game 3 of the 1921 World Series.

China responded to a demand from Japan for certain rights in Shantung province with a complete rejection.  The demands were based on the Treaty of Versailles transferring German possessions to Japan following World War One, which included port cities in the province.  The Chinese were not willing to go along with the treaty on these points, and ultimately their position prevailed.

Austria and Hungary submitted a territorial dispute between them to the League of Nations, with Italy to act as the mediator.

The same photographer that toured schools in West Virginia took the photos of members of a 4H Club.

Betsey Price, - First year High School at her club sewing. 4 H Club work - Marlinton, W. Va.  She would have been in 9th or 10th Grade, but again looked quite mature in this photo.



Forest Kellison, 4 H Club Member raising a sheep. Examining the quality of the fleece under direction of Harold Willey, Farm Bureau Agent. Location: Pocahontas County, West Virginia

Forest Kellison, 4 H Club member, treating his sheep for internal parasites.

Susie Kellison, raising chickens. Examining the wing and looking for smut. The club in this county had 250 members at the time. Location: Pocahontas County, West Virginia.

Harry Harper, with his registered calf. Location: Pocahontas County--Hillsboro, West Virginia.


Earl Kidd, with his registered calf. Hillsboro, Pocahontas Co. W. Va. Location: Pocahontas County--Hillsboro, West Virginia

The photographer also documented conditions at schools, some of which were quite advanced, and some not so much. This was a one-room schoolhouse, and the photographer disapproved of the location of the privies.


And he photographed farms as well.



Gen. W. D. Connor, who was a significant figure in the Department of the Army at the time, sat for a portrait.

Brig. Gen. W.D. Connor.

A group of South Dakotans visited the President.



Lex Anteinternet: The Killetarian Cookbook. Cooking Wild Game.

Lex Anteinternet: The Killetarian Cookbook. Cooking Wild Game.

The Killetarian Cookbook. Cooking Wild Game.



I'm sure that nobody would mistake me for a five-star chef, but I’m not helpless in the kitchen either.

One of the things that anyone who reads this blog (which, of course, are darned few people) will already know is that I'm pretty feral, for lack of a better way to put it.  An Agrarian and a Distributist at heart, I'd prefer a more agrarian world in every way, including getting as much as your table fare from the fields and streams where you live.  I'm a lifelong hunter, but not a head hunter.  That's the way hunting where I live when I was a kid.  You hunted to put food on the table.  I'm not saying that you can't and shouldn't put a trophy on the wall, or go for a big example of what you are after, but hunting is primarily for that.

Not only that, but it's the most honest and ethical way to put mean on the table.  I'll truck no arguments from vegetarians and vegans, and others who would maintain a deeply anti nature view of the world.  Hunters and Fish Hunters (fishermen) are the population that's most connected to nature, and part of the body of people who try to keep the plant livable for us all.  Meat hunters and fishermen most of all.

Wild game, moreover, is the meat source that's closest to what we're evolved to eat.

If I could have my way, the vegetables we'd eat here would come from our own garden, and the meat from the fields.  That is in fact partially true now, although I haven't put in a garden for several years as my well is down and, like a lot of things in my old age, I haven't gotten around to having it fixed.

Well, having spouted off.  I'll be putting in some recipes here, an endeavor that was inspired by something recent that I'll keep off-line.

I'll note here in addition that there are some links below.  I think these links are useful, which doesn't mean I've tried everything listed there.  I'm not, as noted, a trained chef.  The links are to sites by people who have a lot more food knowledge than I do.

My bonafides


Okay, so what, if anything, qualifies me to say anything about the topic of cooking wild game?

Well, quite a bit, really.

For one thing, I grew up eating wild fish and fowl, as well as wild leporids (i.e, rabbits).

My father was an avid outdoorsman.  Unlike me, he inclined more towards fishing than hunting, but when fall came he switched from fishing to bird hunting.  He started fishing in the spring as soon as you could, and then fished all summer, and into the fall  He continued fishing basically until the snow flew, even after he started bird hunting.  He didn't ice fish much, however, so he took the cold winter months off from fishing.

He started hunting birds when sage chicken season opened in the fall and soon started hunting ducks and geese after that, with an occasional mix of other birds as well.  When I was old enough to hunt and fish, which in the case of hunting was five years of age, I started that.  When I was just about that age, I started hunting rabbits as well.

My father had hunted big game when he was single, but some time after he married, he stopped for a while due to the pressures of work and having a small family. Also, in those days, hunting big game was more of an expedition than it is now, in spite of what people might think.  When I was about 10 or 12 or so, however, he started again, probably as he had more time and I wanted to. At that time, you couldn't hunt big game until you were 14, so I had a couple of years of observational experience before I started hunting big game too.

When my father started hunting big game again, it was antelope.  I don't recall him getting a big game license during my lifetime for anything else.  But I did.  I started hunting deer the same year I started hunting antelope, and added elk hunting as soon as I had the automotive freedom to do that.  By the time I was a late teen, I was fishing in the spring, but switched to hunting as soon as the season was on, and hunted until the last of the seasons.  I wasn't an ice fisherman at that point either.

Now, we were a family of three. And what this should tell you is that we were eating a lot of wild game.  When I was born Catholics still had meatless Fridays every week of the year, and therefore we normally had trout for Friday dinner.  We continued on with this even after it was no longer required, as we had lots of fish.  My father froze fish so we continued to have them long after it grew too cold to continue fishing.  And as this should also indicate, we ate a lot of waterfowl during the season as well as some other game birds.  Once my father started big game hunting, and then I did, we had antelope and deer as well. As both my father and I took antelope, and I usually got additional tags, we had quite a bit of antelope.

So I grew up in a household were wild game was a staple.

That doesn't mean, of course, well-prepared wild game.  My mother was an awful cook and that applied universally to everything.  But my father was a really good cook and when she could no longer cook, my father took over.  By observation, I started to learn how to cook wild game then.

To add to this, from 1983, when I graduated from community college, until 1995, when I got married, I lived pretty much exclusively on wild game.  That's a period of 12 years, of course, which is a significant period.  I didn't normally buy meat at the grocery store when I was a college student unless I flat out ran out of wild game, which would occur.  And when I was first practicing law and living at home, I was bringing home a lot of wild game.  When my father died, and it was my mother and me for a time, I did the cooking normally, and wild game it was.

Cook a lot of wild game, and you'll learn how to cook it.


An additional bonafide

My grandfather owned a packing house and my father had worked in it.  He knew how to butcher meat.  Watching him do it, I learned how to do it, although I was never anywhere as good at it as he was.

I don't like taking my game meat to a meat processor and for years I absolutely wouldn't.  I butchered things myself.  The pressures of work and life, and the fact that my wife didn't like me spending an entire day butchering, meant that I eventually relented, and I do now, and have for a number of years.  I'd still rather not, but I have made that compromise.

I've butchered or helped butcher everything from rabbits up to cattle.

A note on wild meat and how not to ruin it.

Eat wild mean and sooner or later you'll hear somebody say they don't like it, as "it's gamey".

Taste is an individual thing.  I heard one Marine Corps veteran of Afghanistan go long on praise on Afghan goat, for instance, which not everyone would, I'm sure.  Some of that observation, "it's gamey", really means that the person who is speaking has only eaten grain fed American beef or pork.  Grass fed beef, which is the kind we normally have here, tastes considerably different from the beef you buy at the grocery store or get at a steakhouse.  Indeed, this is so much the case that if you get used to grass fed beef and then have the latter, it's a shock and not necessarily a pleasant one.

In fact Plains Indians complained, soon after they were bound to reservations, that allotment beef they were give was "sweet" and they didn't like it.  Used to leaner bison, it tasted odd.  And I can vouch for something similar.  After over a decade of normally only eating wild game, getting used to store bought beef again was a bit difficult.  I like beef, but to go from lean antelope and deer to fed beef was strange and I found I had a preference for the wild game.

People, I note, make similar complaints about lamb, once an American staple, and all sorts of people claim to dislike mutton, even though they mostly have never eaten either.  I love lamb and I like mutton as well.

Which gets me next to this.  Some people think they don't like wild game as the meat has been ruined by how it was treated.

You can ruin any meant, and the easiest way to do that is to not remove the heat from it.

The other day I was at the meat processor to drop off an antelope.  I was stunned when I got there as the antelope I was dropping off was the only one that had been skinned.  I can think of no surer way to make antelope gamey than to not skin it in the field.  I can't imagine why people do not do this.

Learning to skin an animal is not hard, and its vital to do it.

When I shoot a big game animal, the very first thing I do is to bleed it by cutting its throat.  This involves, I'd note, an element of safety as a person should never ever draw a knife towards himself.  If you don't know how to do this, have somebody show you, least you slice yourself open accidentally.  People die in the field cutting themselves with hunting knives.  If its sharp enough to cut game, it's sharp enough to kill you.  Anyhow, you shouldn't be running a knife towards yourself.  I'm not going to explain how to do this as, if you don't know, you should have somebody show you so you don't slice yourself open.  Bleeding doesn't take long, however, and it removes a lot of heat, right away.

After that, you need dto field dress it.  I'm not going to explain how to do that either, but don't ever draw a knife towards  yourself or put yourself in a position where you can get cut.  Then you need to skin the animal.

The only reason not to skin an animal immediately is that you need to drag it to where you are loading it.  Okay, that's a reason.  But skin it as soon as you can.

On this, years ago I shot a moose in weather that was right at about 0F.  We field dressed it and skinned it and loaded it in my 1/2 ton pickup truck.  In spite of that, I still lost a little of it to spoilage.

I'm convinced that at least half of the claims that meat is gamey is due to the meat being absued.  The rest has to do with odd occurances, unfamilairity, and bad cooking.

What I'm noting, by the way, applies to smaller game as well.  When you shoot rabbits or birds, you really need to field dress them in the field.  Rabbits should have their fur removed in the field, both to cool them down, and because they always have fleas.  Birds are a little tougher call simply because sometimes you need the plumage to show game wardens what you have.  Indeed, that can be true for big game animals in terms of their heads and other evidence of sex.  Fish, of course, are easy as you simply remove their guts before you leave the stream.

Big Game

Okay, with all of that, we'll start on big game.

I'm going to really deal with two types of big game here, one being antelope and the other being Cervidae.  Cervidae are deer, and that includes all types of conventional deer in the United States, as well as elk, caribou and moose.  

This isn't to suggest, I'd note, that every Cervidae tastse the same.  Far from it. But they tend to be more similiar than different for the most part.  I.e., elk doesn't taste like mule deer, and neither taste like moose, but none of them are close to tasing the same as antelope.

What I'm not dealing with, therefore, are things like buffalo or bear.  I'm not, as I have no experience with cooking either.  I'm only dealing here with things I know.

Which brings up this.  Save for moose, which is a very dark rich meat, every recipe I'll give here works for everything, but you need to keep in mind they are different by degrees.  These meets have different characteristics, and a recipe that works really well with one meat, will be so so with another.

Useful Sites:

Hunter Angler Gardner Cook:  This site, I'd note, is the most useful, in my opinion. The Author also is sometimes featured in Wyoming Wildlife. He additionally has a podcast, although I haven't listed to much of it.

Wild Harvest Table.  This site is sponsored by New York's Cornell University extension and has very good practical recipes.  It was originally associated with a (then) young university professor who blogged a lot about hunting in New England, but whose cooperative blog on that topic seems to have gone into the ether, like so many blogs have over the years, but who was clearly, along with his wife who was the main driver of this blog, a fellow killetarian.

Food For Hunters.  This blog, like the first one mentioned, has some really good recipes, and it also brings some different prospective to recipes.

A 12 Gauge Girl.  Another blog with interesting recipes, from a killetarian prospective, although its very infrequently updated.

Chef In The Wild.  Interesting blog, but not updated since December 2020 at the time I'm putting this up.

Cowgirl's Country Life.  Not a  hunting specific site, but with some hunting recipes.  Also, infrequently updated.

The Prairie Homestead.  This site has a very active blog and a podcast that has a cult following.  I'll be frank that I don't know that this link really belongs here, and I'll also admit that I have some problems with the modern "homestead" movement, while also finding it interesting and sympathizing with it.

Cast Iron


Okay, the item above is cheating, but it's another page here on our site.

Lex Anteinternet: July 1, 1921 Field & Stream. A missed magazine co...

Lex Anteinternet: July 1, 1921 Field & Stream. A missed magazine co...

July 1, 1921 Field & Stream. A missed magazine cover and what it tells us about language and cluture.


This was one of the numerous saved threads I hadn't gotten back to, and then July 1 came and went, and I forgot about it.  Instead, as that day deal with the Chinese Communist Party, there was a big old hammer and sickle that appeared as the art for that day.

Wish I'd remembered this one.

This does bring up a bit of an interesting topic, or at least two such topics, one linguistic and the other cheesecake oriented.

Depictions of women fishing, and let us be more precise and say depictions of pretty young women fishing, are at least as old as print magazines in popular culture.  They're considerably more common than depictions of women hunting, even though fishing is simply fish hunting.  We sometimes forget that English has various words for various types of hunting, as fishing is the only one we commonly use to separate it out from hunting in general.  But there are others.

Fowling, for example, refers to hunting birds and was once a fairly common term. Offhand, I can't think of another sort of hunting other than fishing which is named for the prey, but there are some types that are named for the method.  For example, falconry, that type of hunting done with falcons, is named for the method.  Trapping, which is a controversial type of hunting that has been controversial my entire life, also is.

Of interest in this general topic, hunting of various types was so important in the Medieval era, when people started to first acquire family names, that various things associated with it or the practice itself gave us a series of last names that are still with us. This shows the degree to which it was significant, and even elemental.  Just as we have the last name "Farmer", for example, we have the last name "Hunter".  Noting that English is a Germanic language, and that this evolution occurred at the same time all over Northern Europe, and Europe in general, the same occupations are reflected in the common German last names of Bauer and Jaeger or JÀger.  It ought to be noted here that the last name Hunger more accurately reflects its Medieval origins, however, than "Farmer", as farmer actually meant "renter" at the time, reflecting that farmers tended to be tenants, if not actually serfs.

JÀger, interestingly, shows up as an English last name as well, in the form of Yaeger occasionally.  A name that sounds related, Jagger, isn't.  That name is a Yorkshire name meaning a horse packer.

Fisher, of course, also shows up as a last name, as does the German equivalent Fischer.

Falconer also shows up as a last name, that being for a person who kept and hunted with falcons.  Falconry was expensive back in the day and its pretty likely that anyone who was a falconer was in the permanent employment of a noble, so it's different from simply being a hunter or fisher.  The same occupation gave us the name Hawker as well.

Another name last name that may have a hunting origin is Bowman.  We tend to think of bows as military weapons, in a Medieval context, but in reality they were by far the most common hunting weapon at the time and, moreover, keeping standing armies was extremely rare.  While armies did employ bowmen in times of war, those guys were in other occupations the rest of the time, and they were likely using their bows for hunting.

Indeed, the significance of that may be demonstrated the only other weapon of the period which I can think of which reflects itself in a last name is Pike.  It would seem obvious that the name must derive from the weapon of that name, but it apparently isn't clear that this is the case.  It might be a corruption of "peak" or it might actually refer to the fish.  On that, Trout occurs as a last name, and it apparently stems from fishing for trout.  I.e., a person named Trout, back in the Middle Ages, was a trout fisherman, showing the importance of the species.  On the other hand, maybe Pike refers to the weapon, including its importance in Medieval warfare.  No other weapons directly resulted in last names, however, if that's the case, although the knife did give us the German last name of Messer.

Well so much for names.  Let's talk about clothing, or the depiction of it.

As noted above, depicting female fishermen was pretty common in the early 20th Century.  The depiction above is a little unusual in that the subject is deep sea fishing, but then deep sea fishing depictions in general were a little unusual.  Usually fishing subjects were fishing streams, or maybe rivers.

Depictions of women fishing early in the 20th Century weren't very different from those depicting men.  If you go all the way about to around 1900, they are different as women didn't usually wear trousers and therefore they're sometimes depicted wearing the bulky clothing of the day, fishing, which would have been extremely difficult, in actual practice.  By World War One, however, they were usually depicted just like men, with both tending to have the outdoor clothing, rather than the work clothing, of the day.  No doubt there were men, and women, who went out to the streams fully equipped with the period outdoor clothing, which tended to feature breeches and very high boots, but my guess is that most fishermen simply went out with the sort of clothing that they wore when mowing the lawn or working in the shop.

I note this as in the world of Reddit, Twitter, and Istagram, if you have any interest in fishing, you're going to be assaulted at some point with a photograph of a woman fishing wearing a bikini.

I don't know if any women really fish wearing bikini's. They don't fish wearing bikini's in the L.L. Bean or Orvis catalogs, that's for sure, and I've never seen a female bikini clad angler myself.  Of course, I don't have a boat, and maybe they're all on boats, rather than on your typical Wyoming stream or river where you'd be eaten alive by insects if you tried that.

Which brings me to this, wearing hardly anything outdoors is stupid in general, very stupid when you are more or less on the water where there's no shade, and who wants to smell all over like a fish?

All of which leads me to believe that such photos are in a certain category of adolescent male driving soft pornography, much like the weird Japanese cartoon depictions of World War Two ships as young women.  Maybe some young women on boats wear bikinis, but I bet they do it only once.

I was fishing the other day in a deep Wyoming canyon, the last fishing trip I'll make of the season, probably, as hunting season is now on, and even though I'm license impaired as I didn't draw anything, I'll be doing that on general tags.  On my way out, I encountered a young woman hiking in.

You could see she was a serious fisherman. She was carrying her pole in its tube and had on a large brimmed fishing cap of the type that's somewhat unique to fishermen, and wearing dark sunglasses.  Even from across the stream, and down in the canyon from where I was, you could also tell that she had on one of those bug and sun resistant pull on shirts that some fishermen now wear.  

She looked like a real fisherman of her vintage. I.e, one of the young fishermen in their 20s.

She was looking for a way down the canyon.  I pointed to a place up stream.  She nodded her head in affirmation. 



Lex Anteinternet: Cliffnotes of the Zeitgeist, 66th Edition. A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer up your pants.*

Lex Anteinternet: Cliffnotes of the Zeitgeist, 66th Edition. A littl... :  Cliffnotes of the Zeitgeist, 66th Edition. A little song, a littl...