Smelling Blood

Get your gun, bag a squirrel, and don’t be afraid to dirty your lily-white hands.

The author in her tree stand Just two weeks before Thanksgiving, the scent of braising meat, like bread and old leaves, filled the kitchen. My squirrel was breaking down, slipping off its bones. One of my housemates walked in, where I leaned over the stovetop watching our dinner simmer. “Smells great,” Travis said. I nodded and sniffed again. Squirrel, I thought, smells like both rabbit and quail, but also nutty and a little gamey. Rodent might not be prime protein, but a hunter obeys her. . . Read more
Juliana Hanle