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May 2005 NewsletterJim Casada
Web site:
www.jimcasadaoutdoors.com Moms and the Outdoors We tend to think of fathers, grandfathers or uncles as the logical mentors for budding outdoorsmen. Yet such is not always the case. My maternal grandmother, for example, was what her husband fondly described as “a squirrel hunting fool.” Similarly, some of my warmest memories of Mom focus on fishing, and in today’s world where one-parent families seem all too common, any exposure to the outdoors youngsters get comes of necessity through their mothers. With May being the month when we celebrate Mother’s Day, some thoughts on where they fit in the outdoor world seem appropriate. In my view, women should be an integral part of the outdoor community, and I firmly believe that the future of sport (especially hunting) depends to a large degree on growing female participation. That’s why all of us males who love the wild world should have a firm commitment to involving more girls and women in hunting, fishing, and other outdoor pursuits. Thankfully there are two national magazines, Woman’s Outlook and Women in the Outdoors, along with numerous industry initiatives, devoted to outdoorswomen. With that in mind, perhaps sharing some personal experiences from the past and plans for the future will strike a responsive chord. As for the future, my short-term plans call for two pursuits with ladies I love. My granddaughter turns four in mid-June, and she’s ready to accompany Pa-Pooh (she chose the moniker soon after learning to talk) on some local fishing trips. Her first birthday present was a lifetime hunting and fishing license and she already has plenty of angling gear. Whether we chase frogs, throw rocks, dig worms together, watch birds, or actually catch some fish won’t matter too much—we’ll be sharing meaningful moments in an outdoor setting. The second “project” may be a bit more of an undertaking, since it involves convincing a mature woman of some years (I won’t say precisely how many since I want to continue enjoying good meals and pleasant companionship) to become a hunter. My wife has done some fishing, loves camping, and is a highly accomplished hand in the kitchen who has joined me in co-authoring a number of game and fish cookbooks. Her father was a hunter and she has accompanied me afield from time to time. Moreover, she has had some “hands on” experience and instruction with firearms and certainly knows how to clean and process game. Still, my good lady has never hunted. Come fall, through sharing a two-person deer stand, equipping her with a Remington rifle in a suitable caliber using Managed Recoil ammunition, and making sure early experiences don’t involve long walks or early risings, I intend to change that. Those are my plans for the future, but since it is Mother’s Day let’s conclude with some longing looks back at the role Mom played in my development as a sportsman. My earliest memory was traumatic at the time but subsequently provided frequent moments of mirth at family gatherings. At the age of four or five I caught a bream and Mom removed it from the hook, saying she would take care of it. Incidentally, her idea of “catch and release” was a release to hot grease, and throughout my boyhood we always ate the fish we caught, no matter what the species. Rather than putting the fish on a stringer though, for some reason Mom put it under a rock that wasn’t much bigger than the bluegill. Sure enough, one flop and it was free, tumbling down the steep bank to watery freedom. Dad assures me that my howls of despair were punishment aplenty for the unintended release. That slip-up aside, Mom was a steady and staunch ally when it came to hunting and fishing activities throughout my youth. She tolerated the cleaning of small game in the kitchen sink when weather was bitter and always had words of praise for a full game bag or fishing creel holding a limit of trout. Recollections of the culinary wonders she worked with small game such as rabbits, squirrels, grouse and quail still suffice to set my salivary glands in overdrive. Similarly, she always encouraged activities such as berry picking or gathering poke salad, and the products of those harvests from nature’s rich bounty found a welcome place on our family table or in Mason jars on shelves in the family cannery. On countless occasions she served as my chauffeur, planning lunch exactly right so that when Dad came home she could serve him, take me to a nearby trout stream, and be back home in time for him to return to work even as she gathered up the dishes. Come dusk, she would be waiting for me at the trailhead to give me a ride home. I now know that it took a lot of faith, trust and tolerance on her part (and Dad’s) to let a small, teenaged boy venture into the back country alone. It also took a special sort of wisdom to recognize the deep, abiding passion for the outdoors that held her oldest child in its grip. She nurtured and fostered my love of the natural world in a wonderful, almost magical way. Right up until her death, every time I went fishing we shared a verbal exchange that endured over some five decades with virtually no change. As I bade her goodbye, my question invariably would be, “Do you want me to keep a limit if I catch them?” Her heartfelt answer always was something along the lines of “Of course! Who would be foolish enough to turn something that tastes as wonderful as trout loose?” I miss her terribly, every day and in countless ways. When those warm and wonderful memories emerge, they almost always have some association with outdoor experiences. I can only hope that you, as readers, share similar memories or enjoy the ongoing pleasure of making them. For my part, sampling and savoring recipes that were standard fare at Mom’s table give me a sense of connection that has deep meaning. Here’s a sampling from Wild Bounty, a cookbook I wrote in company with my wife. WILD BERRY COBBLER 1 cup all-purpose flour Combine flour, sugar, baking powder and mile; stir with a wire whisk until smooth. Add melted butter and blend. Pour batter into 9 x 13-inch baking dish. Pour berries (amount depends on personal preference) evenly over batter. Do not stir. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream, whipped topping or milk. This simple dish serves 6 to 8, and leftovers warm up nicely in a microwave oven. FRIED RABBIT 1 rabbit Cut rabbit into jointed pieces. Season flour with salt and pepper. In a separate dish, combine egg and milk. Dip rabbit pieces in seasoned flour, then egg mixture, the flour again. Fry in deep, hot vegetable oil until browned and tender. Drain on paper towels and serve hot. Gravy can be made using some of the pan drippings if desired. Tip: It is best to use a young rabbit for this dish. That insures tender meat. Thank you for subscribing to the
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