While I was "flooded out".

Did have one fun evening. The folks we stayed with are big gardeners. They have both vegetables and flowers. The gal has been after me to come and shoot the varmints that have been eating her flowers and veggies.. let's call them "starlings". They've actually been hopping ( I mean "flying") up on her deck and eating the flowers out of the pots. When I knew we were going to be staying there a few days I threw the Mach II and my portable shooting bench in the truck. (You may be a redneck if you pack two pair of underwear and a rifle and two fly rods to be gone a week. :D ). Long story short. rained all day and sun came out in the evening. 5 "starlings" - 5 shots – all redheads – closest 63 yards, farthest 110. There were three more in sight when I quit but it was getting dark and I had "starlings" to dress. ;) I'll be having them over for fried "starling" someday next week.

For those of you who have never got to shoot a .17 Mach II - they are sudden blue death out to about 125. Just a riot to shoot.

Love it!

Them damned English and their sparrows and starlings.

How is a 'starling' best prepared for table? Smoked, baked, roasted, or fried, or fricazeed?

BKB

More importantly, do you measure a trophy starling by weight or skull circumference?

That should be determined by how much a pain in the ass they were. Emphasis on the 'WERE'.
BKB

I assume they taste sorta like barn swallows, martens, and maybe blackbirds, huh? ;)

I think you are mistaken eddie, it is more like Spotted Owl or Piping Plover.

My Dad told me a story once about actually eating an owl. He and two of his brothers were in deer camp in southwest Arkansas where they lived. Deer camp consisted of camping out in a tar paper tent they'd made by wrapping a few layers of tar paper around the bases of some trees they'd trimmed the limbs off of and topping that off with an old tarp. when it was done they just cut a hole for a door and that was camp. They'd only taken flour and grease for food and were depending on killing something. anything. Dad said they never saw so much as a squirrel in that camp let alone a deer. Finally on the second day without eating they shot an owl, cleaned it and ate it. He said it was very stringy and tasted horrible. Dad was about 16 so that would have made it around 1949.

BKB

going home to the local diner wasn't an option?

The way Dad told me the story, my grandpa had dropped them off where they were camping and wouldn't be back to pick them up for a day or two more. I heard my uncle's version of that story a few times too. It kind of varied a bit depending on the teller.

BKB

And keep in mind. In 1949. in Scott county, Arkansas, THERE WEREN'T any deer. Or at least none to speak of. They'd been hunted almost completely out. There were big bucks though. I'm looking at a set of horns right now from an 11 pointer my Dad killed in 1951 and they're massive.

BKB

Good story Posthole.
Several friends and me once did a like and similar trip/camp out.
But instead of a owl we killed a raccoon. For some reason instead of roasting on a stick over the fire one of the guys took Campbell's chicken noodle soup and put it in a pan and then Threw the cut up coon in there with it and let it cool for a long time. Believe it or not it was eatable.

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I'd bout as soon try the owl as I would chicken noodle coon. sounds nasty

There was some green vegetable material passing around the campfire that made the meal better than it was. :D

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Nuttin' like a major case of munchies to make almost ANYTHING taste good.

As for weird meals ... I remember having corn flakes for breakfast while in college. Problem was, I had no milk ... but they tasted just fine with Budweiser. ;)

"Chicken Noodle Coon". Wonder if we need to post that in the recipe forum?

BKB

Quote:

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Originally Posted by BarryBobPosthole

"Chicken Noodle Coon". Wonder if we need to post that in the recipe forum? BKB

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It would need a disclaimer "not for the faint of heart"

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lol.. You guys just don't know what's good. I just cooked up three for our Father's Day game feed and there weren't nary a thing left but drippins. ;) Buddy's grandfather grew up hard in the river bottoms near here. Married a full-blooded Indian. He was always referring to "timber chickens" so one day I pinned him down. Pileated woodpeckers. ;)

My favorite Uncle growing up was a big time coon hunter and there was always a roast coon on the Thanksgiving table right next to the turkey. It wasn't bad, but I wouldn't go out of my way to eat it either. I think My Aunt soaked it for a while and then parboiled it a bit before roasting.