Neither of my grandmas, but I thought this article would be appreciated by some here.
https://sportingclassicsdaily.com/gr...tCRyxJyGhtn17g
Neither of my grandmas, but I thought this article would be appreciated by some here.
https://sportingclassicsdaily.com/gr...tCRyxJyGhtn17g
My NaNa Dean also insisted we take neck shots as she loved the squirrel brains ! Having already tried pork brains and decided a hard NO on any more , she had my share ! I did make up for it with the rest of the squirrels though .
She did do possum too, served up in gravy with sweet potatoes . Tried it once, still won't even eat sweet potatoes.
As a little kid, I could tell if Granny or my dad shot the squirrels because there was no bird shot in the meat - Granddad used a 12 gauge. Granny always said "Jacob isn't a true rifle shot". We skipped the brains by head shooting them. Granny was so amazed when I showed her my first two squirrels killed with a .22 pistol. She was in her 80s then but she cooked them for me and her with gravy and "bisquit bread". Thanks for stirring memories!
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great story ,we forget how tough are ancestors were.we are all wimps in comparison.
Good morning
Alot also depended on where your grandparents were raised.
My grandfather spent his early life in Russia and my grandmother in Latvia of German parents. They were interned during WW1 when the White Russian army invaded of which my grandfather was involved That is how my grandparents met about 1920 after grandpa spent years on the Eastern Front.
My dad was born in Warsaw as my grandparents were running from the Stalanists. Dad was 6 months old when they received papers in Warsaw to come to the US of A.
So grandpa had enough of shooting. Grandma did not like what guns could do to people. Dad grew up in the city.
My grandfather committed suicide when dad was young. Grandma worked numerous jobs so her sons could go to school.
After the Navy Dad became a muzzle loader, cast RB .69 plus 38 HB and reloaded 38 Special. Dad's older brother took up hunting.
Me I took up everything that was outside of walls. My mom who also grew up in a city was hard pressed cooking (for me) all the critters I figured were edible.
"Come unto Me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28
Male Guanaco out in dry lakebed at 10,800 feet south of Arequipa.
Reminds me of my paternal gramma. She wasn't a squirrel hunter. She loved to fish, though. Northern pike because she lived in Minnesota. She had emigrated from Sweden. She always said of the pike, "Pick 'em up by the eyes".
What a great story....my mom's step-mother was very hard on squirrels and deer. She used a bolt action Mosberg .410 ( had screw chokes as well). She harvested a deer yearly using .410 slugs and 6's on squirrels. She was a great cook and as a result I learned to love squirrels as well. My better half cant imagine eating one but I do assure her that they are quite tasty and easy to cook, however, hard to clean. I loved the trip down memory lane....thanks again....Paul
Last edited by buckwheatpaul; 02-18-2021 at 08:58 PM.
When guns are outlawed only criminals and the government will have them and at that time I will see very little difference in either!
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Grandpa and my Father taught me to hunt. Squirrels were shot in the head when possible. Never saw Grandma with a firearm.....but she was hell on wheels with a hatchet or axe when it came to getting a chicken in the pot for supper. Great article, thanks.
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My Maternal grandma did not hunt, but she would clean and cook anything her sons or gandsons brought in. Her specialty was squirrel with dumplings and Groundhog baked. I can still remember eating the groundhog, she would soak them in salt and buttermilk for 2 days in the fridge, then she would take each piec and flour and fry them up till golden brown, then put them in a roaster with carrots, celery and potatoes. She would pepper and sage them up good, bake till done, then make gravy on the side out of the pan drippings she had fried them in, which was usually half lard and bacon grease. I am literally drooling as I type this. The good old days. Seems I have always had a taste for wild game, like my dad.
What a nice story! What fantastic memories! My grandparents were all immigrants who lived in the city, and my parents were city born and raised also. Now two of the brothers, one of them was me, were huge question marks to our parents, we hunted and fished and while they could understand fishing never could quite wrap their head around the firearms and hunting. I didn't taste my first squirrel until I was in my late 20s. It was delicious. I think I'll pass on the brains though.
Where I grew up in Southern California, the Fish and Game Department prohibited squirrel hunting in the southern part of the state, due I suspect, to the lack of mature hardwood trees in the chaparral. After my employment took me to Knoxville, Tennessee, I discovered the Eastern hardwood forest, and the abundant grey and fox squirrels that lived there. My first culinary experience with squirrel was memorably bad; it tasted somewhat like a steel belted radial tire. Years later I found a cookbook of Louisiana recipes that included recipes for squirrel and rabbit. That is really the way I like them best, although squirrel in Mexican mole sauce is not bad either.
I never went hunting with my dad, although he was a fisherman. He grew up on a farm in northeast Oklahoma during the Depression, and wild game was what you ate when there was nothing else. He told me he once accidentally ate a skunk that his mother had put in the oven to render the fat for liniment. Everything I know about hunting was either self-taught or learned from reading, including this forum.
Wayne
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger - or else it gives you a bad rash.
Venison is free-range, organic, non-GMO and gluten-free
I have my great grandmothers shotgun in one of the safes. I have a friend my wife has know for maybe 40 years that still talks about her grandmas squirrel gravy.
My mom grew up eating squirrel brains and scrambled eggs. That's something I could never eat.
Ya'll talking about squirrel hunting 'n eating brought back memories of Grandpa 'n Grandma. When I was dating my first wife, she was around 16 yr old at the time and came to Thanksgiving dinner with me at my grandparents house. We had the usual holiday meal with squirrel, rabbit, etc. Don't remember all the meats but squirrel was always a favorite. Grandma cooked the head fully intact, eyeballs, teeth 'n all there, just skinned, battered, 'n fried. Here I am gnawing on the head getting ready to crack open the skull for the really good part - brains. I happened to look over at wife (girlfriend at the time) and she's looking with horror at me. She says something about a rat's head, don't remember the exact comment, but the part that really stuck with me was "you're never kissing me again!!". Stunned silence around the table, remember this is well over 50 yrs ago in the hill country where things are pretty conservative, and certainly no talk of kissing around the dinner table. Once the girl realized what she'd said she was really embarrassed.
Funny thing is, she never learned to eat squirrel heads
Squirrel brains and scrambled eggs fried in bacon grease would tune you right up. Groundhog, possum and coon were always on the menu. My grandma wasn’t much into this but my great gram and aunts all were. Attachment 278107 GreatGram out for evening meal.
My paternal Grandma was the meat provider while they lived in a remote Western Oregon area.
She took her trusty M94 in 25-35 and walked in the woods near home.
My Granny didn’t hunt but sure did cook, and squirrel brains were a favorite. My parents were children during the depression and game was a staple. Nothing wasted, a rabbit or squirrel would make a family meal and then stew from the leftovers and bone broth. Honestly, that’s what I’ve been eating this last week. I learned to shoot the neck so we could enjoy the brains as a treat. Homemade biscuits with fried squirrel. The tough ones went into the Dutch oven to braise then veggies and gravy. Yep, a young ground hog got the same treatment, man I miss those days. Now I cook the meat myself and wifey makes biscuits to go with it.
“You don’t practice until you get it right. You practice until you can’t get it wrong.” Jason Elam, All-Pro kicker, Denver Broncos
Ive been wondering about that ground hog thing myself!
For a while ai was starting h to wander if we were related. Paternal grandmother some name. Under 5 feet tall and 90 some pounds. But mine o ly raised 8. She fished but did not hunt. She did however shoot chicken thieves. Great story.
Steve
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