Greg Elwell
Feb 19, 2009
SOURCE: Gazette Media Inc.
Don Capra wasn’t born with a gun in his hand, but he might as well have been.
Capra, former president of the Oklahoma Medical Research Foundation, said hunting in the forests of Vermont is the first conscious moment he can recall " something he looks back on fondly more than 50 years later.
Part of that memory’s allure is its association with his father. Hunting was something he did with his dad, although their styles were anything but similar. A large, patient man, the elder Capra would sit under a shade tree near the corn fields. He understood his prey. He could wait for them to come to him.
But Don, young and wound up, couldn’t sit still long enough for that kind of hunting. Instead, he ran amidst the trees, his footsteps pronounced, cracking twigs and crunching leaves. It didn’t matter if his quarry knew he was coming. It might take four or five shots " the old man only ever needed one sitting underneath that tree " but Don would get the kill.
Just one good blast of the shotgun " just one decent shot. Just a little luck and that squirrel would make a mighty fine dinner.
The Capra family was not starving. No one was worried about if and how they would be fed. Squirrel, he said, was just something his whole family loved to eat " although admitting that fact can draw some odd looks from those who have never thought of eating a squirrel, much less tried one.
“When I graduated medical school and moved to New York, and even when I later moved to Dallas, as soon as I told people I had eaten squirrels, that would be the way I was introduced from then on,” he said. “It was like, ‘Hey, Jerry, come over here! This is the guy I was telling you about who eats squirrels!’”
Even in Oklahoma, Capra found many people were shocked to hear he had eaten “varmint.” But with the economy shrinking and the price of protein rising, a growing number of Oklahomans are starting to embrace small-game hunting " or at least argue with those who find the practice distasteful.
THE ‘TRUE OMNIVORE’
Although it may seem odd to some city and suburb dwellers, the rest of the United States looks at Oklahoma largely as an agriculture and petroleum producer: We are farmers and ranchers and oilmen and country singers.
But the great homogenization that began sweeping America after World War II has certainly permeated the Oklahoma borders, and the residents are aware of how we are both varied from each other and yet just like everybody else. At a time when it’s no longer a shock to meet someone who eschews meat from their diet or goes so far as to forgo milk, butter and eggs, why are we still shocked to find those who have gone the other way? What is so different about the true omnivore?
For one thing, he or she probably has a hunting license. While venison and bison have found their way from the woods to the farm to the grocery store, most small game remain available only to those with the means, the skill and the desire to personally capture their meals.
Jerry Walston is no Ted Nugent. He and his wife shop in supermarkets. They live in the suburbs of Tulsa with their kids. It’s just that sometimes, well, he wants to kill something.
“Some people just like to hunt and not eat their kill,” he said. “Not me. I’ve been hunting and eating squirrels since I was 7 years old. My dad loved it, though at some point he stopped eating them, but I kept on.”
The reason? Squirrel is delicious. It doesn’t taste like anything else out there. But unlike deer or buffalo, when you tell someone you eat squirrel, they can’t believe it.
“City people, the kind who have never spent any time in the country, they’ll roll their eyes and say something derogatory,” he said. “The men, sometimes you’ll get a few who say, ‘Yeah, I’d like to try that,’ but generally not from city women. My wife is an exception to that rule.”
To be fair, his kids aren’t that into squirrels, either. When they were younger, it was fine, but now that they’ve grown up a bit, they find it distasteful, he said.
Oklahoma native Burkhard Bilger, a staff writer for The New Yorker, ate his share of meals that fall outside of mainstream cuisine for his book “Noodling for Flatheads: Moonshine, Monster Catfish, and Other Southern Comforts.” He thinks Walston’s kids, like many people, have stigmatized the practice of eating varmints.
“You know, if you look at ‘Joy of Cooking’ from the ’70s, it had a nice illustration of how to skin a squirrel,” he said. “It wasn’t that long ago that it was still pretty popular.”
By the time he was traveling for his book in the ’90s, however, it had become the cuisine of the poor for many in Appalachia.
“I’ve eaten possum and soft-shelled turtle. Both are pretty good if prepared correctly,” Bilger said. “You know, there was a cookbook done by a vet (Calvin Schwabe) at the University of California, Davis, called ‘Unmentionable Cuisine’ that basically advocated that if we ate what was around us " varmints, dogs, cats, bugs " nobody would starve again.”
The problem, he said, is getting past that taboo. Why is squirrel weird, but chicken is normal? Why are all rodents bad in our culture, but it’s gourmet for some to eat rabbit? It’s all so arbitrary, he said.
THE OTHER RED MEAT
For Kelly O'Neal, the key is not caring.
“The truth is, squirrel meat is good. Raccoon meat is good. Beaver meat is good,” the 65-year-old Sayre resident said. “Back in the old days, in the pioneer days, they ate everything: bobcats, possums, you name it.”
If people wonder why critters are invading neighborhoods and encroaching where they never have before, it’s because folks aren’t hunting and eating them anymore, ONeal said.
It’s a trend that drives Capra crazy. He lives just east of Oklahoma City on Lake Aluma, where geese land and on the lawns and make a nuisance.
“It’s always, ‘Let’s get a study done,’ or ‘Let’s hire a consultant,’” he said. “In Vermont, we’d take care of it in 15 minutes. Geese learn fast where they’re not wanted when you’re shooting at them.”
Lake Aluma is a microcosm of the culture shift of the last 50 years, Capra said. Hundreds of people are killed nationwide in car accidents involving moose and deer, yet limits are set on how many can be killed. And if people try to raise those limits, animal rights groups come out of the woodwork to protest.
“There is a delicate balance to nature, and we are a part of that balance,” he said. “Almost any winter, a million deer will die of starvation. Why? Because we’re not controlling their population.”
Deer hunting remains a popular activity, not just because some think it’s fun, not just because people want to control the population, but because the deer are delicious. And people wouldn’t eat squirrel if not for survival or the flavor.
And Mongo Joe likes the flavor.
Joe, who declined to give his real name because of concerns about reprisals from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), said the taste is hard to compare.
“Squirrel tastes like … squirrel,” he said. “There is really no other animal that it tastes like, at least not to me.”
Like anything, squirrel is tasty if cooked right, Joe said. And although some compare it to chicken " as everyone is bound to do " he disagrees. The only real comparison is the way it is prepared.
“Squirrel can be prepared in any of the same ways you can prepare chicken,” he said. “Just substitute the squirrel for the chicken.”
His personal favorites include fried squirrel, boiled squirrel in a soup with noodles, squirrel and dumplings, or, his mother’s favorite: baked in a pan with dressing, like a small bird.
Capra’s family is Italian, so they cooked their squirrel like they would in Italy.
“We’d eat ours on polenta,” he said. “I would skin and clean them, then my mother would butcher them and soak them in pickling spices and wine overnight.”
The next day, he said, she’d sauté them, almost like a stew or a squirrel au vin.
Since they’re small, it takes about one gray squirrel per person " although that was in Capra’s youth. In today’s super-sized world, a squirrel combo meal might include two or three of the critters.
‘EATING OFF THE LAND’
Oklahoma has a tradition of eating off the land and eating well.
In the “Wild Game Cookbook,” compiled by members of American Legion Post 191 in Stratford, there are recipes as simple as “Opossum (plain)” and “Armadillo” (known by some as “possum on the half shell”) to culinary masterpieces like “Rattlesnake Steak,” “Fricasseed Rabbits” and “Raccoon a Pomme.” After all, if hunting small game, who says the meal has to be boring? Why not enjoy “Raccoon Pie” or “Squirrel Jambalaya”?
However, some would rather people didn’t eat squirrels or rabbits or possums or rattlesnakes at all. In fact, they’d prefer if everybody would give up on cows and chickens and pigs while they’re at it.
Nicole Matthews, spokesperson for PETA, said nature takes care of wildlife management just fine without people " no matter what recipes they use.
“Wildlife management is just a euphemism for limiting how many animals people can kill,” she said. “Starvation may seem like a harsh way to go, but it’s how nature ensures the strongest of the species survives. Hunters don’t go after the weak or the sick, like nature does; they go after what will give them the nicest trophy on their wall or the most flesh to eat.”
If the reason for small game hunting is the slowing economy, she said, then vegetables, beans and grains are an option that’s better for pocketbooks, better for their health and a better use of their time.
Mongo Joe, who doesn’t want PETA coming after him, actually kind of agrees with them: He doesn’t think hunting is a sport. He doesn’t think that buying meat in a grocery store is any different than catching and killing it. He just happens to think that people need meat, so getting it themselves is a good way to do it.
“I was not raised or taught to kill something just for the ‘sport’ of killing it,” he said. “I still recall my father telling me about animals on more than one occasion, ‘If it ain’t gonna hurt you and you ain’t gonna use it or eat it, then leave it alone. Them animals gotta make a livin’, too.’”
HEALTH AND THE SMALL GAME HUNTER
“If it’s cooked well, it’s just meat.”
That goes for almost anything, said Jim Edwards, assistant chief of law enforcement for the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation.
But those unfamiliar with small game hunting might be wary. After all, these are wild animals, running through the forests and drinking out of streams. And all the time, they’re pooping. Aren’t these inherently dirty creatures?
Well, yes.
“What we tell people is, ‘It’s safe, but you should take precautions,’” said Jack Carson, a spokesperson for the Oklahoma Department of Agriculture, Food and Forestry. “Wear latex gloves when dressing an animal. If you’re handling blood or internal organs, you need to wash up with soap and hot water afterwards.”
And the food safety concerns are about the same for a freshly butchered chicken or a cow: Rinse off the blood and cook it well, and most of the risk disappears, he said.
“When you’re hunting small game, you want to be wary of things like rabies,” he said, “but cooking will kill the rabies virus. That’s not really an issue.”
Carson knows from experience. In his youth, he ate plenty of squirrel, rabbit and raccoon.
“I grew up in a rural area,” he said. “Everybody I knew hunted small game. It was just a way to supplement their diet.”
There is one line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, however: While his great-grandmother was a big fan and voracious eater of squirrel brains, Carson said it’s something he would not do.
“There’s a possible issue with spongiform encephalopathy " in bovines, it’s called mad cow disease,” he said. “I would avoid eating any central nervous system tissue. Though I’ve never heard of that causing a problem with squirrels, I say it’s better safe than sorry.
“Also, it kind of grosses me out.” "Greg Elwell
CRITTER CUISINE
Singed Squirrel
Make a fire outside with dry limbs and place the squirrel in the fire, watching it carefully so it does not burn. Burn only to singe the hair off. Scrape and place back in fire long enough to brown and brittle the skin. Next, wash and clean the squirrel, cut into pieces and cook in water. Season with salt and pork drippings and cook until done.
Squirrel Jambalaya
1 medium squirrel
Red pepper
2 large onions, chopped
1 clove of garlic, chopped
4 tablespoons parsley, chopped
Salt
3 tablespoons cooking oil
3 stalks celery, chopped
¼ green pepper, chopped
2 cups rice
Cut squirrel into serving pieces. Season well with salt and red pepper to taste. Fry squirrel in oil in skillet until brown on all sides. Remove squirrel from skillet. Sauté onions, celery, garlic, green pepper and parsley in pan drippings until wilted. Return squirrel to skillet; cover. Cook over low heat for about 30 minutes or until squirrel is tender. Add rice and 1 ½ cups water. Cook, stirring for two to three minutes. Add 2 teaspoons salt. Simmer for about 30 minutes or until rice is cooked. Makes 6 servings.
Raccoon a Pomme
1 raccoon, dressed
Salt and pepper to taste
2 peppercorns
2 cups dry bread cubes
½ cup chopped pecans
1 cup orange juice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon allspice
2 tablespoons flour
4 apples, quartered
1 teaspoon brown sugar
Place raccoon in a Dutch oven with enough water to half cover and add the salt, pepper and peppercorns. Cook for 45 minutes to an hour and drain off most of the liquid. Remove raccoon from Dutch oven. Mix the bread cubes, pecans and orange juice, and stuff the raccoon. Place raccoon back in the Dutch oven and sprinkle with the cinnamon, allspice and flour. Arrange the apples around raccoon and sprinkle brown sugar on apples. Bake in 350-degree oven for 45 minutes or until done. Makes 6 servings.
Opossum
Skin and dress the opossum. Remove as much fat as possible from outside of carcass and be especially careful to remove any glandular tissue from hind legs. Salt and pepper opossum well, then place in oven bag and cover with thick slices of onion. Close bag and punch holes in top as directed. Cook in a very slow oven 225 degrees at about 45 minutes per pound. Meat falls off the bone with this treatment and is delicious.
Smothered Armadillo
Prepare an armadillo by placing on its back, and cutting off head, tail and feet. Remove belly skin. Then pass the knife along and around shell and remove it. Then clean same as you would turtle. Wash, then scald the meat. Remove all excess fat. Cut up in pieces.
3 pounds meat
2 chopped onions
1 chopped bell pepper
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 sticks celery, chopped
1 stick margarine
1 tablespoon flour
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Small can of mushrooms
½ cup Burgundy wine
Salt and pepper
½ cup mixed onion tops and parsley, chopped
Add margarine to a Dutch oven. Fry meat until brown. Add all the vegetables and let sauté five minutes. Add the wine and mushroom juice. Cover the pot and let simmer until meat is tender, adding water if needed. Remove meat from pot and add to juices a mixture of water and flour to make a smooth paste. Also add at this time, the onion tops and parsley, mushrooms and enough water necessary to make a gravy. Cook five minutes and pour over the meat and serve with white rice. Makes 6 servings.
"Reprinted with permission from “Wild Game Cookbook” compiled by members of American Legion Post 191 of Stratford. Book copies are available for $7.50 plus shipping by calling (580) 759-3066.
