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March 2005 NewsletterJim Casada
Web site:
www.jimcasadaoutdoors.com March Madness for the OutdoorsmanThroughout my high school years, and on into English literature in college, I fought a decidedly uneven battle with old Will Shakespeare. While I understood and appreciated the bard’s references to nature, much of his miracle working with words passed over my head. However, there was one well-known phrase, from the play “Julius Caesar,” I had no trouble in understanding. This was the admonition to the ill-fated Roman emperor to “beware of the Ides of March.” In other circumstances, those words could have been addressed to sportsmen. Throughout my marvelously misspent boyhood and right on up until the present, I have found March the most miserable of all months. Spring, though not all that distant, somehow seems an almost unreachable dream. As a youngster, it was even worse. Rabbit season had come and gone, as had that for squirrels. The opening day of trout season was many weeks away, and since there were no turkeys I didn’t have the rites of spring as mirrored through gobbling turkeys to look forward to. On top of that, there were school days to be made up, thanks to closures for snow that had been welcome at the time but which weren’t so pleasant when they meant going to school on Saturday. With all of those things confronting a boy, no wonder the dread malady known as cabin fever laid hold of my soul. But it wasn’t just me. Grandpa Joe used to groan and moan, and when you inquired as to what was wrong, he’d just say, “I’ve got the miseries.” Pressed to define “miseries,” he’d talk about aching joints and needing a tonic (sassafras tea or some similar folk remedy, but the simple truth of the matter was that he had the mollygrubs. That’s a word which is probably unfamiliar to most of my readers, but it’s a mountain term for depression. Grandpa was depressed for the same reason March leaves so many of us down in the dumps. It had been too long since he had wet a line, he had many months to wait before he could ease into the fall woods in search of bushytails, and he was tired to cold, snow, having to spend too many hours close to the fire, and, in all likelihood, too much attention from Grandma Minnie. In fact, when her sometimes sharp tongue cut too deeply, Grandpa Joe would mutter, “They just won’t leave a body alone, and right now there’s no escape.” Grandpa always used the impersonal “they” when referring to Grandma, or for that matter anyone else, in a fashion that indicated concern. One memorable example that involved me will perhaps make his use of “they” a bit clearer. We set out on summer’s day for a few hours of fishing for knottyheads, a little fish that were abundant in the Tuckasegee River, which ran in front of Grandpa Joe’s house. Fishing at a place appropriately called Devil’s Dip, we kept easing further and further out on a ledge above the deep, swirling pool. More than once I expressed concern about falling in, but each time grandpa’s answer was, “You’re right, but every time we move we catch some more.” Eventually fate intervened, and both of us tumbled into Devil’s Dip. We got out in a hurry, soaked from head to toe and with grandpa minus a new straw hat of which he had been passing proud. Grandpa hastily assessed the situation, suggested we better go back to his house, but then ominously added, “They ain’t going to like this.” His assessment proved all too accurate. Grandma took one look at what must have resembled a duo of drowned muskrats and forthwith pitched a red-eyed hissy. Although I doubt if she weighed 90 pounds, Grandma Minnie had a giant-sized temper. She poked a gnarled index finger in my chest and then did the same to grandpa. While gesturing she stated, “The only thing worse than a young fool (that’s when I got poked) is an old fool (it was grandpa’s turn), and here stands a matched pair.” Grandpa sort of drooped his shoulders and shuffled away. Rest assured I was close behind. As soon as we were out of earshot he grinned, winked at me, and said, “I reckon they won’t be cooking any fish tonight.” The point of sharing this story from my boyhood is a simple one. Grandpa’s answer to what he called March madness, and rest assured he knew nothing about NCAA basketball, was to relive moments such as that along with planning more adventures to come. He called it “dreamin’ and schemin’, and he excelled in these verbal forms of escape. While doing so he would also be whittling, working on making a slingshot or a flutter-mill, looking over his rather meager collection of hunting and fishing gear, or otherwise doing something with his hands. Looking back with longing, I realize that this grizzled old codger who was also my best buddy pretty well had March figured out. He just groused and grumbled, knowing all the time that spring would, in good season, once more bring the time of awakening to the good earth he loved so dearly. There’s a lesson in his outlook for all of us. With that in mind, exhibit a bit of patience, knowing full well that the greening-up times of spring will return. Meanwhile, here are a few recipes to use some of that meat still in the freezer from this fall’s hunting. SQUIRREL AND BISCUIT-STYLE DUMPLINGSIn the not-too-distant past squirrel hunting was the most popular sport, in terms on number of participants, over much of the country. No longer, but bushytails still make wonderful eating. If you have some in the freezer, here’s a great way to prepare them. 2 squirrels Cut squirrels into serving pieces, place in a Dutch oven, and cover with water. Add bay leaves and simmer for 90 minutes or until squirrels are tender. Skim if necessary. Squirrel can be removed from the bones at this point and returned to stew. Add onion, celery, carrots, seasonings and water. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Increase heat until stew boils. Add dumplings and continue cooking as directed below. DUMPLINGS½ cup milk Slowly add milk to dry ingredients. Drop by teaspoons into boiling liquid. Cook for 15-20 minutes longer or until dumplings are done in the center. Serves four. BAKED DUCK BREASTSIf your waterfowl season went well, there should be some tasty fare in your freezer. Here’s one of my favorites. 2 duck breasts, filleted into 4 pieces Fillet the breasts and wash thoroughly. Line a baking dish or pan with aluminum foil; leave enough foil to seal when ingredients are added. Cut butter into chunks and distribute evenly over ducks. Place a bay leaf on each fillet. Sprinkle remaining ingredients on top of the duck breasts. Close foil securely and bake for 75 minutes or until tender. Remove bay leaves before serving. Serve with orange sauce. ORANGE SAUCE1 cup orange juice In a medium saucepan, combine orange juice, sugar and nutmeg. Bring to a rolling boil, add cornstarch and stir constantly until thickened. Remove from heat. Serves four. Thank you for subscribing to the
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