Vittles That Jethro Bodine Would Love

We have an over-abundance of squirrels in our live oak trees and pecan trees.  They feast on countless acorns and pecans, they dig up the garden, they pull the 'bark' off of the palm trees to make their nests.  Over-population is definitely an issue.  While endearing creatures with their bushy tails, they are also a nuisance.  They are also a delicacy and as they need to be thinned out, we might as well put some in the freezer.  Pan fried squirrel in a brown gravy served over rice is good eating.

I checked to make sure squirrel season is open and what the bag limit is (7) and grabbed my old 12 gauge shotgun and a pocketful of 7 1/2 shells.  This is where living in the country really pays off.  I don't know what would happen if you lived in the city and in the middle of the day on a Tuesday, you went out in the front yard and shot squirrels out of the treetops.  It didn't take long.  In two minutes I had two ready to be skinned.

On the back patio with a sharp knife and some game shears, I quickly skinned the squirrels and cut them up and put them in a zip loc bag for the freezer.

Later that same afternoon, it was time to do a little more squirrel hunting.  This time in the side yard near the pecan trees, there was a scurry of squirrels.  The squirrels in our yard are mostly cat squirrels (also called grey squirrels).  Although fox squirrels are bigger, cat squirrels are better tasting.  It wasn't long at all before I had four more furry tails for the pot.  Six on the first day was a good start, but we have a LOT of bushy tails in the yard and I have some more thinning out to do in the upcoming days.

Tricia drove up at that point and got a kick out of the stereotype I was reinforcing and had to get a picture.  Barefooted, long hair, dirty t-shirt with a shotgun, holding four squirrels.  Very redneck indeed.  As I'm writing this tonight, I'm laughing to myself about the wide variety of topics.  Last night we talked about stoicism, philosophy, and Marcus Aurelius.  Tonight we're talking about shooting squirrels in the backyard and skinning them for supper.  Jethro would approve.  Maybe after I get the rest of the squirrels in the freezer, I'll take a dip in the cement pond.

I guess the bad thing about squirrels is once you skin them, if you leave the head on, they look just like a rat.  In fact, many people call them tree rats. That's not very appetizing to me.  That's why I like to take the head and tail off quickly and then quarter them.  Then they just look like meat.

Once you quarter them, they look sort of like a rabbit.

Nothing goes to waste, except maybe the used shotgun shells.  I saved all the guts in a bucket to set traps in the woods.  Perhaps we'll talk about that Sunday night.

Mark Your Calendars

In our back yard we have a couple of palm trees that we planted back in 2007.  They were in small nursery pots and weren't 2 1/2 feet tall.  I don't even know how to estimate how tall these trees are.  They've weathered a number of hurricanes, straight-line winds, and snow and ice and sub 20 degree weather.  When the palm fronds die, they droop over and I've found that wasps love to make their nests underneath them.  I guess it provides for the wasps great protection from the weather.  On any given day you can see dozens of them flying around up there.  But I can't really do anything about it anymore.

Back when the trees were younger, I'd prop up a ladder and cut the dead fronds down, but that's out of the question now.  I mean, I can't even get the whole tree in the frame of the photo they have grown so tall!

I want to show you something on the bark of the palm tree in the center of the photo below.  If it looks like something is skinning it, that's because it is, and that something is a squirrel.  A cat squirrel.  We have more cat squirrels around here than you can shake a stick at.  The cat squirrels (officially called a gray squirrel) are numerous.  They've run off all the larger fox squirrels.  They eat all the acorns off of the live oak trees, they get into the pecan trees and eat a bunch of pecans, they get into the garden and dig things up and eat stuff. Every once in a while, Ginger, our cat, will catch one and eat it and leave its guts on the welcome mat outside the back door.  It's her trophy - her "look at me" moment. 

The damage that you're seeing on the palm tree's 'bark' is caused by squirrels.  I'm not just casting blame. I witnessed them doing it first hand.  They jump from the live oak tree to the house and run along the roof.  Then they jump into the crepe myrtle tree and shake the wind chime, alerting us to their presence.  Then they leap onto the palm tree and go to work.

What they're doing is balling up the fibrous material in the bark of the palm tree and carrying it off in their mouths.  They use this as building materials for their nests, to grow their young.  I scared one off the other day while she was gathering the palm bark material and she dropped her load.   You can see the stuff she dropped below and can see how its soft and probably makes excellent nest material. 

There's too many of the tree rats, and I plan to do something about in on October 4th.  October 4 marks the opening of squirrel season in South Louisiana.  I intend on thinning out the exploding population of cat squirrels, skinning them and then making a dark brown gravy with them in a cast iron skillet then serving the squirrels and gravy over a bed of white rice.  Comfort food at its finest.  I hope to put a good mess of them in our freezer.

October 4th is a date we'll want to mark on our calendar for sure! 

Casualties of the Drought

It rained two inches in October.  None so far in November, although my weather forecast this evening shows a 48% chance of the wet stuff on Friday and a 79% chance on Saturday!  We are praying that we get it.  For years we have sequestered rain water by placing barrels, buckets and water troughs under the drip line of the house and the barn.  Not counting the barn, I think I calculated at one time that I can catch 400 gallons of rainwater with a 1 inch rain.  

We use that rainwater for watering the plants, the chickens, and the cows and goats.  It helps minimize the water bill - when it rains!  Yesterday morning I walked out to bring a 5 gallon bucket full of rainwater to the hens in the chicken tractor.  When I dipped the bucket in the rain barrel, something surprised me.  There was a big dead rat in the barrel that had drowned.  

Upon closer inspection, it was a squirrel.  The poor squirrel had no doubt tried to drink from the barrel and fell in.  Squirrels aren't good swimmers and he succumbed.  With the drought, water isn't as easy to find.  All the water in the ditches has long since evaporated.  We are overrun with squirrels.  They eat all the acorns and pecans and they are plentiful and fat.  I was just thinking that I was going to kill a mess of them and make a good squirrel gravy. 

And then this morning I was greeted with this sight in the water trough that catches rain off of the barn: (Can you see something at about the 4 o'clock position?)

Another drowned squirrel!  But that's not all.  Tricia had pulled another drowned squirrel out yesterday!

There are more shallow water troughs than this one.  I don't know why they are going to that one to try to drink from.  Three doesn't really put a dent into the squirrel population, but I'd rather not see them die and go to waste.  Hopefully we get the rain forecast for this weekend and fill the ditches and holes in the woods with water, thus making available safer places for them to find water.

Bushy Tailed Bandits

The first cool front dropped temperatures into the 70's, but it warmed up with a vengeance after a few days of teasing.  It is back in the 90's again, but the weatherman said to expect another cool front, bringing temps back into the 70's.  I can't wait.  To celebrate this onslaught (hopefully) of cooler weather, Tricia and I have been thinking about driving to Beaumont and purchasing a new fire pit.  We've had our eyes on one outside Buccee's that is built in thick-gauge steel and built to last for a lifetime.  It has a grill on a pivot so that you can build wood fires on it and barbecue.  Our old fire pit has rusted out.  It did give us many years of service, so we can't complain.

Here's the other thing about the beginning of fall.  Leaves start falling.  That's a good thing, but something better falls out of the trees - PECANS!  Last year we harvested exactly ZERO pecans.  It was the first year that we didn't get any pecans.  Most years we pick up buckets and buckets of them.  We shell them and freeze them and use them throughout the year to snack on and to use in various recipes.

So craning my neck upward, I begin assessing this year's crop.  I can see some up there.  I began calculating how many future pecan pies will be baked when those pecans ripen and fall to the ground.

But we've always been told to not count our chickens before they hatch, right?  It was not until I looked down beneath the pecan tree that I saw the dire straits we're in.  Can you see what's littering the trampoline mat?

I'll zoom in a bit.  What you are looking at is chewed up pecans.  The stain on the trampoline is the rich pecan oil that has leaked out of the chewed up pecans.

Who is the culprit, the perpetrator, the vile, evil doer?  I submit to you Sciuridae.  That's the Latin family name for Squirrel.  The bushy-tailed bandit.  The rascally rodent.  It is nice to share, but if we aren't careful, the squirrels will eat every pecan and we will have no pie.  Troubling thoughts indeed.  I looked for a meaningful squirrel poem that would memorialize my thoughts, but alas, there are no poems about squirrels that capture my ruminations.  So I had to write one myself.

Our pecan trees are really loaded down

With thousands of pecans that will soon be hitting the ground.

But there's trouble in paradise and this is why,

The Bushy tailed bandits are eating my future pies.

They watch me each day as I drive off to my job

And they come out of their nests and commence to rob.

But I have a plan I'm cooking up in my head

It involves a shotgun loaded with high powered lead.

Then like autumn leaves on breezy nights,

The dead squirrels will fall from lofty heights.

I'll look into their beady eyes

And relish the thought of my rescued pies.

Of Course You know, This Means War

When we plant those tiny tomato seeds in the cold winter, we anticipate pulling those red, ripe tomatoes to make fresh salsa, putting up tomato sauce, making caprese salad, or simply cutting some up with banana peppers and jalapenos as an appetizer.

A Nice appetizer plate of homegrown goodness

You spot a big bodacious heirloom tomato, bulging with flavor and beautiful green shoulders and red fruit.  You reach out and grab it and give it a twist and a pull off of the vine.

Suddenly, you feel something is not quite right.  Your hand is moist and sticky. You flip the huge tomato over to find...

Durned Squirrels!!

Just yesterday that big beautiful tomato caught my eye and I thought, "Tomorrow, I'm gonna pick you!"  No doubt, at the very same time, from the safety of his nest up in a sprawling live oak tree, a fox squirrel saw the same tomato and thought, "Tomorrow, I'm gonna pick you!"  Problem is, I work for a living.  The squirrel does not.  He stays home and pilfers the product of another man's labors.

Well, I thought, I see another tomato that is almost ripe.  I'll pick that one.

Same song, second verse.  When you flip this tomato over, you see the same damage - just not as bad.

Dad-gum squirrels!

So what do we do?  Well, although it may seem a little gross, I bring the tomatoes inside and we wash them and cut off the squirrel-eaten on pieces and we eat the pieces of tomato that the squirrels have been so generous to leave us - the leftovers, if you will.  Well, I'm not gonna take it, anymore.

Of course you know, this means war.  In the first battle, I have a two pronged attack:
1.  Beat the squirrels to the tomatoes.  I'll pick them when they are pinkish-red and let them ripen inside, safely away from those pesky critters.  We started doing this yesterday.  Hopefully they will continue to ripen to peak ripeness and taste even though they aren't out in the sunshine on the vine.

2.   My animal loving friends may take umbrage to phase 2 in my arsenal.  I bring out the arsenal.  I load up my Marlin .22 rifle with .22 Long Rifle bullets.  I don't shoot them to scare them.  I shoot to kill.  These squirrels are thieves and will pay dearly for their stealing.  Just yesterday I ran inside, grabbed my .22 and dropped a big, fat squirrel that was in the fork of a live oak tree.  He fell to the ground and I made sure that his tomato-thieving days had come to an end.  If I was closer and had delivered a fatal head-shot, we would have skinned him and put him in the freezer for a meal. Unfortunately, I was shooting at a long distance and delivered a gut shot that exited his leg.  One down.  Hundreds to go.

We decided that the bullet had torn up too much of the meat to be able to eat it. Instead, dispatching the squirrel with a head-shot, I carried the dead squirrel to the garden and buried it.  Hopefully the squirrel will feed back some nutrients into the soil and, much like the pilgrims and the Indians burying a fish in the garden, grow some great produce.

The war is on.  So far, it remains to be seen who'll win.  I'm winning the arms race. The squirrels have engaged in guerrilla warfare, and are winning in terms of stealth and surprise.  So far they have eaten more tomatoes than we have.   I don't give up easily, though.  Be afraid, squirrels.  Be very afraid.

Mr. McGregor's Garden

Beatrix Potter wrote some children's books that we would read to the kids when they were toddlers. There was one particular story about Mr. McGregor's Garden I remember.  Mr. McGregor had a garden and was having problems keeping hungry rabbits from eating up all his produce.  He would try to catch the rabbits and would bake the rabbits in a pie and eat them.  I can't say that I ever ate rabbit pie, but if you are interested, British Broadcast Company has a rabbit pie recipe.  In reading that story to the kids, I always rooted for Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter Rabbit to escape from Mr. McGregor.

Last Saturday, I took a picture of some of the cauliflower and broccoli I have growing in my garden. I'm pleased with the way it looks so far with nice, big healthy leaves.

I love broccoli and cauliflower and like to eat it roasted with garlic in the oven. That's my favorite way to eat it.

We have a big problem with the broccoli and cauliflower crop this year, for despite it's beauty from afar, when you  look closely, you see that something is very much wrong.  Something ate the tender centers of the flowering heads from the broccoli and cauliflower completely off!

Oh, we'll get perhaps a few small florets off of some of the broccoli like you can see below, but we'll get absolutely nothing on the cauliflower.

So what critter is doing this?  I first thought maybe rats?  But I'm leaning more to believe that rabbits and/or squirrels are the culprits here.  Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees dog, caught a rabbit in the yard near the garden the other day and shook it in his mouth and killed it.  Russ went and wrestled the fresh-killed rabbit away from Big Boy, skinned it and cooked up the fresh, broccoli-fed rabbit. Although he didn't use the recipe posted above, he said it turned out delicious.  Suffice it to say, I no longer root for Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter!

Mulligan Stew

A week ago I got a phone call from my neighbor.  Our neighbors are great.  We love them.  It is such a blessing to have good neighbors.  They allow us to pick figs, satsumas, grapes, muscadines and lemons off their trees and we'll give them milk and eggs.  We also assist one another with yard work or limb pick-up after storms. They are great cooks and we'll often get a knock at the door and will be greeted with a warm loaf of Amish bread or a plate lunch of fresh fried catfish, lima beans and coleslaw.

So it was nothing out of the ordinary when they called and asked if we had any plans for the Saints game.  I said no and they invited us to come over to their outdoor kitchen to help them eat Mulligan Stew and watch the Saints play.  Tricia made some homemade cookies and we eased over Sunday after we got back from church.

Now, I had no clue what mulligan stew was.  It sounded Irish, so I assumed that it had potatoes in it. I was right - partially.  When we opened the screen door, my neighbor asked if we had ever eaten mulligan stew and we said, "No."  He sort of smiled.  He was browning a huge pile of meat in a pot on the stove.  It smelled great!  He said that every Fall before hunting season, it was customary in their house to make Mulligan Stew.

Mulligan Stew is something that his Daddy started as a tradition, of sorts, to clean out the freezer to make room for the wild game that was about to be killed during this hunting season.  All different types of meat would be thrown in the pot, browned with onions and garlic and then have stock and chopped mixed vegetables and pasta shells thrown in and stewed down.  When done it would be served over rice.  I searched for a picture and it best looks like this one I found on a Google search:

Image Credit

According to Wikipedia, Mulligan stew was served in hobo camps in the early 1900's and was made with whatever could be "begged, scavenged, found, or stolen." So the aroma filled the outdoor kitchen in the shop and at around 2 pm, it was time to eat.  We lined up, got our bowls, filled them with rice, ladled a heaping portion of mulligan stew over our rice and went and sat down.

When we sat down, our neighbor's wife and her sister, smiled and said, "Y'all eat that?  We're not big on eating squirrel heads.  We're gonna eat something else."  I looked down in my bowl and saw something that looked very similar to this staring back up at me:

Image Credit

They would take the handle-end of a butter knife and crack the little skull and then pull out the brains and eat them.  Now, I'm fine eating squirrel.  And I enjoyed the taste of Mulligan Stew.  I just can't bring myself to eat the head or squirrel brains!  I politely ate around the head until it was the only thing left in my bowl.  I think I heard my neighbor's son say, "Aw man, you left the best part!"

Benjamin and I will be doing some squirrel hunting in our yard to thin out the squirrels so they don't get all our pecans.  We will skin and clean the ones we kill, but the heads won't make it into our bowls.  They'll be buried in the garden along with the skin, guts and tail.

An Unwelcome Guest

We have two 5 gallon buckets full of pecans along with five 50 pound sacks full of pecans that we picked back around the late October - early November time frame.  They are stored in the garage right next to our John Deere lawn tractor.  I have been waiting for some nice weather on a weekend that we didn't already have something else planned.  The weekend that meets those criteria, if it ever comes, I was going to get our old fashioned pecan cracker out and crack pecans all day long. 

I posted about it back in September.  You can read it here: Shelling Pecans if you weren't following us back then.

Pecan Inventory

As I was taking care of some things on my to do list, I saw the following on my work bench in the garage:


Clue #1

Looks like someone has been eating pecans and not throwing the shells in the compost pile.  I'll have to check and see who's doing that and remind them.  Whoa, there's more:


Clue #2

As if on cue, I heard a noise up on the pegboard above my workbench and identified the perpetrator sitting on my circular saw with a guilty look on his face - Mr. Squirrel!  He's the culprit who has been snacking on our pecans stored in the garage.  This is how the pecan shells ended up on my workbench.  He would sit right where he is now and crack the pecans and drop them on the workbench.


"If you'd hand me some safety glasses, I can start cutting immediately."

He was a brave little guy and apparently didn't like the idea that I had caught him red-handed. 

"Are you accusing me?"

I want this fellow out of my garage, so I poked at him with a stick and he hopped down and began scolding me.  He probably feels like I took pecans from 'his' tree, so turnabout is fair play.


I zoomed in on the little guy:



You can really see his sharp claws.  I need to step back a bit!

So, I need to prioritize shelling the pecans and getting them out of my garage quickly as this guy may move all of his friends and family in and we'd get none.