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
Not Hungry

Goldie Stands Over Bull ’13 fasted for twenty days to get closer to God.

Goldie Stands Over Bull with her bible. Goldie Stands Over Bull does not like doughnuts. There were no Dunkin’ Donuts on the Crow Reservation where she grew up near Billings, Montana, and her move to New Haven didn’t instill in her any new cravings. “They’re dry. I just don’t go for them,” she said. And yet for one hour on January 13, she could not get them out of her head. “I don’t even eat doughnuts!” she said. “It was my central thought for like. . . Read more
Ben Mueller
The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen

The queen of the Yale Peabody Museum’s leaf-cutter ant colony is no more.

Queen Victoria of England ruled for sixty-three years, seven months and two days before her death in 1901.  In accordance with her meticulous instructions, the queen’s body was dressed in a white gown and her wedding veil, and beside her were placed the stipulated photographs, locks of hair, and a plaster cast of the hand of Prince Albert. On February 2, her coffin was borne through the streets of London on a gun carriage. With perhaps less fanfare, after a reign of four years, another. . . Read more
Rachel Lipstein