The moose steak sat on the kitchen counter in a steel bowl, thawing. Having just completed the state hunter education course, I was contemplating the prospect of going after meat on the hoof. Though I didn’t have any plans to hunt until the following year, I did have a question to answer: How would it … Read more
The timing was dead-on. Just as I walked past the table, the woman said, “My rule is, ‘I’ll only eat it if I could kill it.’ And I could definitely kill one of those.” I left the restaurant chuckling. I was thinking how the line echoed one of my reasons for taking up hunting: to … Read more
When I lived in Brooklyn in the early 1990s, I wouldn’t have gone hunting. For one thing, I found the idea of killing animals reprehensible. For another, I would have attracted police attention if I’d hiked over to Prospect Park toting a squirrel rifle. Not that firearms were taboo in the neighborhood where I had … Read more
The man called about buying some rabbit. My friend Lila—ex-vegetarian and present-day purveyor of fine, homegrown meats—welcomed him to stop by the house late in the day. The rabbit would be cool by then. “You mean it’s still alive right now?” It was. And the caller, perhaps suddenly imagining Thumper hopping happily about, decided not … Read more
“Is this venison?” Our friend had just spooned several meatballs onto his plate. I replied that yes, indeed, it was. Sensing an edge to the question, I decided not to elaborate on how I’d shot the five-point buck within a half-mile of the house that November. “I don’t mind,” he said and nodded toward his … Read more