Squirrel: It's the other, other, other white meat

Yes, that's right, they aren't chicken and they aren't pork, but they are every bit as good to eat. I know -- they're rodents and all that. But still, they sure are tasty little fellows. I grew up eating squirrel and rabbit and venison and I still do, of course. Lots of really nice folks eat squirrel. And they have come up with numerous ways to fix these tasty woodland critters.

Every year the city of Bentonville has a squirrel cook-off where teams of people compete for the best tasting dishes. I saw where CBS Sunday Morning had a special segment about it. One of their correspondents was a judge. He had never eaten squirrel before so was a little apprehensive about it at first. His first bite was tentative, but he found out it was really good.

Squirrel can be prepared in various ways. I prefer to cut it up and roll it in flour and fry it. Coming from Louisiana, I naturally hold the belief that almost anything edible is made better by frying. Make up some biscuits and gravy and fried squirrel and help yourself. Some folks like to make squirrel stew, while others enjoy using squirrel in tacos and other Mexican-style dishes. I haven't found a better way than the way my mother taught me, which is fried.

One challenge you might face in eating squirrel is, if the squirrel is older, it can be rather tough. The best way to handle that is to boil it until tender and then fry it. On the other hand, young squirrel is so tender it seems to melt in your mouth. Yummy!

The other day I took my grandson, Titus, hunting with me. Titus is 7 years old. He was excited to go squirrel hunting with Papaw. We headed into the same gully where I had taken Landon a few days earlier. We sat down under a large white oak tree and I explained to Titus the importance of keeping quiet. As we sat there whispering together, I began to scan the trees and ground around us. Pretty soon I detected movement out of the corner of my eye. A good ways off to the south I saw a gray cat squirrel. I told Titus to sit still while I tried to get closer for a shot.

I took off as quietly as I could, stopping every little bit so I wouldn't scare the squirrel. I saw him sitting on a branch of a smallish sized tree. I took aim and fired. The squirrel took off down the tree and ran along the ground toward the bottom of the gully. All of a sudden he stopped running and started wriggling on the ground. I knew he was wounded so I told Titus to come with me to get him. As we were on our way to pick him up, another squirrel ran out in front of me on a large sycamore tree. I shot him, too, so now we had two young squirrels.

I picked the squirrels up and handed them to Titus. He was fascinated with the squirrels. After a while he commented on how heavy they were. I told him to lay the squirrels on the ground as we sat down under the sycamore tree.

"We'll sit here until the squirrels forget about us," I said.

We made ourselves comfortable on the ground and got really still. I believe in being quiet in the woods when hunting. That doesn't mean no talking. It means very quiet whispering. I have to admit that I can't hear as well as I used to. So, as Titus was whispering to me, I realized I wasn't understanding what he was saying. I had to keep asking him what he had just said. I told him to keep an eye open for movement in the trees and on the ground. Without thinking about it, Titus began to wiggle his foot in the dry leaves. I had to tell him to stop, which he did.

"Papaw, can I keep the tails?" he asked.

"Sure," I told him, "But you probably won't be able to bring them in your house."

"Oh," he said, "I wanted to put them in my bedroom."

"Those tails will start to smell bad in a day or two." I told him, "I'm sure your Mom will not want them in the house."

"Are we going to shoot some more squirrels?" he asked me.

"I hope to get another one, but it looks like we scared the devil out of all the squirrels in these woods."

Just about then I saw another squirrel in the distance and slipped off to see if I could shoot it. I kept any trees I could between me and the squirrel and kept getting closer, constantly pausing to keep the squirrel from detecting my presence. As soon as I thought I was within range, I took aim and fired my trusty 410. The squirrel fell straight down and we walked over and picked it up. It was a large, older female gray squirrel. I thought we had enough for a good mess, so we headed back to the house to clean the squirrels.

Linda came out to see the squirrels and to help clean them. Titus had never skinned a squirrel before, so he was in for a real education. As soon as he saw some blood, he let us know he didn't like it. I can understand that. I grew up cleaning squirrels and other wild game. We never gave it a second thought. But if you haven't grown up with that sort of thing, it can be a little unnerving.

Titus made sure I didn't throw away the tails and I made sure he put them in the back of my new truck. Linda would skin me alive if I let him put those squirrel tails in the cab. And after skinning those squirrels, I sure didn't want to be skinned alive.

A few days after that hunt, Linda made me some biscuits and mashed potatoes and I fried up those squirrels. My, but they were good! The two young squirrels were just as tender as the best tenderloin. And I made sure Linda didn't get any of the older squirrel. Leave those to the old dogs like me. We don't mind chewing on old squirrel.

Sam Byrnes is a Gentry-area resident and weekly contributor to the Eagle Observer. He may be contacted by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 12/15/2015