The Lost Art of Hunting I’ve never been in a hunting situation where my success determined whether or not I got to eat that night, but I’ve been close. When I was in college, I usually had just enough money to buy a burger off the value menu on any given evening. And I was OK with that. The only problem besides being a poor college kid was the fact that I much preferred to put that change toward .22 rimfire cartridges and gas to get to my favorite squirrel hunting woods. Ryan, Bandit, Squeaky and I would pitch in for a group squirrel-gathering effort at least once a week when the fall season was open. This also gave us a good reason to skip class. After hunting, we’d prepare wild game dinners right there in the little dormitory kitchen. We ate squirrel and dumplings, squirrel and cream of mushroom soup, Cajun-fried squirrel, lemon-pepper squirrel and of course, Kentucky Burgoo. Often as not, we ended up feeding a half-dozen other residents who smelled hot grease and gathered around ou
Post: 27 July 10:54
