
Today my day started at 5am when I woke up to prepare to go hunting for goose and/or duck. One of the members of the club I joined has a sweet spot just outside Alliston on a sod farm. The geese and ducks frequently pass over the hedgerows over this area making it ideal for hunting in the mornings and evenings as the animals move to and from their feeding and night time sleep areas. About 7:45am a V-shaped flock flew 35 yards directly over my hedgerow and three shots later and a little bit of a ground chase (and some additional shots, but we won't go there), I had my first goose.
Having cleaned fish, I felt that I was up to the mechanical task, which was surprisingly easy. I am not the squeamish type and after about 15 minutes I had the bird stripped down to its edible essentials. The only thing I found a little disturbing was during the removal of the innards - the body warmth of the animal, unlike fish, makes you realize you're working on what was shortly before a living, breathing creature. That gave me something to think about, but I carried on with a deeper respect for the sacrifice this bird made. I can see why native Indians have such a strong hunting ethic and respect for prey. Taking a life, even an animal life is no small matter.
The plucking process has convinced me to seek out a wild game processor next time. It was a long, arduous and incomplete process - I won't be eating the skin, that's for sure.
Next was figuring out how to prepare it so a trip to the internet quickly established that one good way to prepare the bird was to marinade it in buttermilk for 24 hours. This apparently reduces the gaminess of the meat and imparts a nice flavor to the bird. So, that's sitting in the garage fridge right now. We'll see how it goes when we cook it for dinner tomorrow night.
One little insensitivity on my part - I had the bird in the kitchen sink and was plucking it - it was still quite evident it was a bird. Feathers flying everywhere and a tearing sound was in the air as I did this and I hear a guttural moan come from across the room. I found myself being stared at by my parrot who had for the last 30 minutes watched me work on this bird. Parrots are pretty smart animals and he was distinctly upset. He spent the balance of the morning muttering to himself. Please be reminded that this is also the same parrot who likes chicken wings. So I won't pluck a bird in front of him again, but he's also a certified cannibal, so my sympathies stop at a certain point.