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| Better than the forbidden tailgate photo? Perhaps. But, someone still chirped about it when it was posted. |
When did the study and discussion of bird hunting become
bigger than the hunt itself? Waxing poetic is fine and it sells magazine
articles. However, there should be some muddy boots, snoring dogs and some bird
guts in a bucket after a long day too. Embrace the legacy of the hunt for what
it is or else take up tennis and fly fishing. Here are some current trends that
will probably come and go with a little luck.
Field-to-Fork.
Prairie-to-Plate, etc. Why is this a
thing? Is it novel to shoot a bird, clean it and cook it? We all have favorite recipes and we often
experiment with new ones. Hunters have
been cooking their own game for years. I
guess it is a good thing that urban folks are embracing the hunt from a food
perspective. But, I am not sure it needs a catchy name or corporate mission
statement.
Pluck it schmuck. Speaking of cleaning your own birds, I have
seen some social media posts this past autumn calling out others who skin birds
versus plucking them. “You are doing the bird and yourself and your family a
disservice!” “Skinning birds is breaking game waste laws!” Stop. You
just killed the bird, plucking it isn’t akin to catch-and-release fishing. We also
know the difference in the final product and appreciate the advantage of leaving
the skin on. But, it also depends on the
end game. For roasting, yes, skin is
in. If you are making chicken nuggets
out of your birds or a sweet-and-sour stir fry, it doesn’t matter. If you want to pluck eight Huns, three
pheasants and four sharptail after that long drive home from a banner day in
North Dakota, knock yourself out. I am
skinning and grinning in that instance.
Fit-to-Hunt, Chukar
Cardio Club, Feel The Rut Supplements……... I relate to this Olivia
Newton-John “Let’s Get Physical” mission at some level. I am probably more
skewed this direction than the guy that roads his dogs with an ATV and is
carrying an extra 50 around his mid-section. But, if you are the same guy
posting photos of yourself at the gym, this goes hand-in-hand with your
narcissistic side. Do you even lift bro? I do work
out nearly every day, some of which is at high-elevation, but no one else
cares. Maybe the dogs do. If you are in
shape, they get to hunt longer. Staying in shape for hunting should be as
routine as eating the birds you bag and doesn’t require a Facebook Group.
Instragram Judge and
Jury. Similarly to the plucking
folks, there are a few strong opinions on the Internet, always quick to point
out the injustices of the world, one being the dreaded tailgate photo.
“Shameful”. “Barbaric”. “Unoriginal”. I understand
that stacks of birds can appear to some folks as wasteful and disrespectful. The
truth of the matter is that tailgates are easy.
Often, birds on the ground or ones held up by hunters don’t show up well
in photos. For those of us that use
photos as part of our hunting journals, there is some record-keeping advantage
to those lined-up roosters and Huns. Looking back at my old photos of ruffed
grouse hunts, I can quickly verify the peak years of the grouse cycle versus
the bottom. As far as being original, I
am not sure there is anything original anymore.
The grouse/woodcock with a leather bird strap or pheasants hanging on
barbed-wire, yup, been done. Often. While a tailgate photo may never make the
cover of an upland magazine, it isn’t destroying bird hunting as we know it.
Trust me, I love and respect those birds as much as you do.
I am looking forward to the day where we can once again simply
hunt for the love of the birds and dogs, not question someone else’s style or
motives. Unethical and illegal actions
need to be addressed. There is no tolerance there. But, let’s not make our
passion as hateful as politics and as complicated as an Ikea dresser. Load up the dog, grab the gun and just go
hunting.
Next episode: The invention of the term Prey Drive and dog breeders’ love of it. Also, we search out the
three upland bird hunters that do not have a podcast.
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| Dad and some ruffs circa 1966. Field to kitchen, if you will. |
