Читать книгу Ten Bridges Seven Churches No Stop Light - Rodney Earl Andrews - Страница 5

At one time in our history we were all hunters and gatherers and that is how we survived. Hunting was more than killing and the family fire was more than just for cooking. Step outside any major urban centre and you will still find everything stalls for the first two weeks in November as many skilled craftsmen we rely on are not answering their pagers. They are responding to a different calling. You do not have to pick up a bow or a rifle to join the Norwood men on the “Hunt.” Hopefully this story will give you an insight into the ancient ritual.

North of Norwood, in Dummer Township, there are plenty of white-tailed deer. In some cases there are too many. The fall hunt is one way to keep their numbers in balance with their food supply. Dad and I were not hunters, but my brother and mother and many of my uncles enjoyed hunting. Some families are split that way. Some hunt and some choose not to.

I certainly enjoyed the many fine meals of game that my mother would cook. Partridge and rabbit were my favourites. This was all due to my brother’s ability to shoot like a trained marksman. My brother loved to hunt, especially in the fall. I was very proud that he never missed a partridge on the fly. His rifle, a .410 under and over, was short and easy to manoeuvre in the thickets. This rifle had a .22 barrel on top of the .410 shot gun barrel, and each chamber held one shot. I walked behind him and kept very quiet as we searched out hawthorn trees where partridges dined on fall berries. Ted was aware that we would be back to hunt next year, so he took only one or two birds per five acres. Ted would shoot a maximum of two on any walk in the woods, as that would be enough to feed mom, Ted, and me for lunch. If we did flush a partridge and it took flight, it was cleaned and in the bag within minutes. When we walked home from school at noon hour the three of us would have partridge stew, or if we were lucky, rabbit stew would be in the pot. Ted would watch out our kitchen window in the winter for rabbits eating raspberry canes. The loaded rifle in the corner of the kitchen would slowly stick out of the window and I, the non-hunter, would be in charge of going out to get the kill and completing the one last cleaning job before we were off to school.

The rabbit population had many predators, so good hunting occurred only one year out of seven. Fox and coyote populations respond to the food supply. Their numbers increase and decrease with the small game they can catch. If the fox population falls prey to rabies, rabbits multiply quickly.

Hunters, like Uncle Ken, ate everything they trapped. He said the best meal, the one he would have if it was his last, was roasted muskrat. I have not tasted muskrat, but some day I hope to have the opportunity.