The treat at the end…and you don’t know what you don’t know. Squirrel is likely the best of all the wild game you can eat. (Press Pros Feature Photos)
September is officially squirrel season, but hardly anyone squirrel hunts, anymore. Why? I think it’s because we’ve grown to cultured to eat the meat we used to hunt.
By Ray Reilly for Press Pros
Thanks to some of you, I’m sure, I received numerous responses to the recent column about sausage gravy and biscuits.
None from Cracker Barrel, by the way, but some of you who like the simpler, finer things of eatin’ ‘poor’ took the time to comment, and even share your personal gravy recipes. I kept them all.
And this time I’m doubling down on another finer, simpler favorite that I’m pretty sure less than 10% of you reading would take the time to try, starting with the main ingredient…which you can’t find in your grocer’s meat department.
It’s Labor Day weekend, and traditionally the start of the upland hunting season, and specifically…squirrel season. And how I remember as a boy the anticipation for the first day of squirrel season in northeast Ohio. There were still small farms and woodlots then, and farmers were friendly to the idea of hunters thinning the squirrel herd that lived in those woods and fattened up off the adjacent corn fields. If you were courteous and mindful of gates and fences, they welcomed people they knew to hunt on their property.
And the hunting was good in those days, and probably still is. Except, no one squirrel hunts anymore. There’s too many other activities for kids, now, and to squirrel hunt you have to be as industrious as the squirrels, themselves. That means an early start to the day, because squirrels typically are out and feeding at first daylight, and you have to be there waiting on them when they arrive.
When I was twelve my dad and his brother, Bob, put me on a tree stump one September morning with a Remington .22 rifle that I had practiced with all summer. I sat right at the edge of the woods bordering a twenty-acre cornfield in Mahoning County and Uncle Bob cautioned me, “Don’t move a muscle or make a sound. Squirrels have great eyes and keen hearing. And if they see or hear you they’ll wait until you leave, or until they think it’s safe to move around and eat. That’s when you kill a squirrel.”
And that’s how it worked. I shot my first squirrel that morning by surviving the mosquitos and flies, and waiting until a big fox squirrel shimmied down a ragged hickory tree and ran into the first rows of the field to feast on the ripening corn. You could hear them…tearing down stalks and stripping back the layers of protective shucks to get to that nutritious grain. Squirrels love corn as much as they do hickory nuts and walnuts, and in the right situation it’s easier eatin’. They’re nomadic, and if the food supply is there they’ll travel as far as it takes to find it. And when they find it, a population of squirrels can really do damage to a farmer’s bottom line. That’s why, back then, every ear counted and they were happy to have people hunt.
Coverage of the outdoors on Press Pros is proudly sponsored by Olde English Outfitters, in Tipp City.
I began to see bushy tails running in and out of the corn field, but Uncle Bob had taught me never to shoot at a squirrel running, especially at ground level – too dangerous if you weren’t sure of your background. There might be cattle or buildings out of your sight and you didn’t take that chance. He told me…”eventually they come back out of the field and back to the trees. And when they do they’ll perch on a limb, and like people, take a few moments to enjoy the meal they just consumed.
And that’s how I killed my first squirrel, a big red one that ran up the side of one of those hickories and squatted on his haunches to look around. I trained the Remington to make a heat shot, and at the crack of the rifle the big fox squirrel tumbled to the ground. A companion that I hadn’t seen immediately lurched, and flattened himself against a tree limb, trying to find the location of the rifle shot. For two minutes neither of us moved a muscle, until finally he turned to leave his perch and disappear into the woods. A moment before he made up his mind the gun cracked and he joined his buddy on the ground.
It was a celebration for a twelve-year-old as Uncle Bob came along a few minutes later to help me locate my squirrels and teach me how to properly care for the meat. Squirrels can be hard to skin and clean, and he knew every trick. Mine, along with two that he had bagged on the other side of the woods, would make a fine meal later that evening.
And if you’ve never had squirrel, you really don’t know just how fine a meal they make.
First, the meat is exquisite because of their diet…nuts and grain. And properly prepared they’re every bit as tasty as chicken wings, served, of course, with white gravy and hash browns. Go online if you doubt, and check out the various recipes for fried squirrel. or slow cooker squirrel and homemade dumplings.
But would you eat a squirrel if you could? It’s doubtful in these days of prepared foods and Door Dash. People are too lazy to hunt and too sophisticated to eat wild game, turning their nose up at the idea of dining on something that just hours ago wore a coat of hair, or fur.
But squirrel is tasty, and healthier than most beef and chicken you buy at the grocery. You might think of that as you pack yourself with preservatives and nitrates. More squirrels are dying from old age than they are from hunters…sadly.
And sadder still, you don’t know about good eatin’ what you don’t know. And probably never will.
‘Til next time, I’ve enjoyed it.
Olde English Outfitters proudly sponsors coverage of the outdoors on Press Pros Magazine.com.