Monday, October 12, 2009

Reader Questions Answered!

There have been several questions regarding the new method of squirrel regulation at our house. Here’s an update to answer some of your most burning questions:

Q: Did we eat him?
A: We most certainly did not. Being married to a wildlife biologist, I am a reasonably good sport about trying different cuisines of varying species. I said TRY. Not enjoy. Not put into recipe rotation. My reasoning is admittedly prideful. At this point in time, I make far too much money (any amount is too much) and have endured enough years of schooling, to even entertain the thought of eating a tree rat. Prideful yes, apologetic no. Karma may come back and bite me on this one, but I’m going to risk it.

*Interesting side note: Put a bunch of biologist’s (mostly male, all hunters) together in a work environment, and their work potlucks evolve into a “hey, top THIS” mystery meat bonanza. The equation is simple: mystery meat + crock pot + barbeque sauce = mmm mmm good. Just don’t ask where it came from. Creepy, huh?

Q: Can I come shoot squirrels too?
A: In my wildest dreams, it never occurred to me that I would grow up to have a snipers nest set up in our upstairs office. I'm going to have to say no, since I happen to know that NONE of my girlfriends have valid hunting permits.

Q: Method of Disposal?
A: Originally, the plan was to toss the squirrel into the backyard and let Skip have his way with it. After all, six years of frustration warrant a few minutes of retribution on his part. We quickly decided that letting our beloved (ok, my beloved) house pet devour a wild animal, fleas, plague, rabies, hantavirus, and all, wasn’t the best idea. Picture this: Skip with beloved trophy in mouth, gleefully running the perimeter with his fresh-from-the-tree treat in his mouth. Daron, chasing ecstatic dog around the yard, trying to recover said tasty treat. Poor Skip. The Dad giveth, and the Dad taketh away. He now lies on the back stretches of our property, not buried. Not buried, because we realized that we loaned our shovel out (Hi Sofia!), and need to get it back. Sooner than later.

Q: Survivor’s Guilt?
A: Some. Granted, I was raised in the school of “eat what you kill,” but I didn’t consider eating this one, even for a minute. Going forward, we may need to come up with a strategy that will ease my guilt a little. Organic dogfood? Addition to Daron’s skull collection? I’m open for ideas. Please nobody suggest Brunswick Stew. Google it if you don’t know what I mean. Or click on this link:



Lisa said...

Darn the rules...nope I don't have a permit. But the state fair is around the corner and I'll be able to get some shooting practice in at your hubby's work booth!

Stewart Family Blog said...

Your grandpa Stewart would tell you that the hair from Squirrel tails is very useful for tying fishing flys... The rest of the critter can only be eaten in times of extreme hunger desperation. Burial at sea in the Pacific Ocean is clearly warranted in this case... when can we expect to see you :-)?
Cheers, Uncle Phil