Birds of Different Feathers

9 Sep

Yesterday  morning early Jay and Daren went goose hunting.  There is an early season here intended to knock down the resident Canada Goose population.  If you can find them on legally huntable land.   They are in lots of research fields, but…

Anyway, Jay came home with one goose and stories involving misses, misfires and double pumps to explain why he had only one and Daren had none.  But one goose is good, much better than no goose at all.

Jay has been listening to me and actually encouraged Hawthorne’s interest in the goose as he has hopes we might be able to train him to retrieve downed birds.  Jay kept a wing and the head and neck with a small cape for H. to play with.  The dog is in heaven when we bring them out.  Today he actually was carrying it around and flinging it.  Good dog. He might figure out what to do.

Then this morning I got a call from Sue’s husband; another chicken had just been hit in the road.  (Jay and I had prepared a lovely rooster for her after it insisted on being hit–I got feathers, she got the meat).  I drove up and retrieved a light-colored banty hen.  Hawthorne was very interested in the whole dry plucking, gutting procedure.  He also got trimmings and a foot to carry around for awhile.

We had some excitement when I decided it was too breezy to singe the fine hair feathers off the carcass outside and for some now inexplicable reason filled the bottom third of my white enamel sink with crumpled Wall Street Journal pages and lit them.

Newspapers burn high, hot and fast. It was a conflagration, though small and contained.  We opened windows and doors, and turned on the oven fan.  I think Isabelle will stay away from matches for awhile.  But the bird was singed really well.

So yesterday I had goose liver and heart for lunch and today chicken liver and heart.  Fried in butter, eaten with bread and butter pickle slices.  Yum.

And tonight: chicken cacciatore .

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