FREEZER BURN…

Two years ago was the last time I walked the fields of the heartland with shotgun in hand. It was October and the cornfields were nearly picked clean. We were just out side a little town called Tama, Iowa. It’s claim to fame is that it’s a stone throw from the big bright lights of the new Native American Gaming Casino. A group of us would drive down from Wisconsin and spend four or five days looking for Iowa’s game bird, the ring-neck Pheasant and then tried the other gaming.

As a lad my Pop would take me out in the late fall around Davenport Iowa. The object was to teach his young son a respect for nature. And he introduced me to bird hunting with a field dog, our dog was a Scotty, go figure.

At this point in his life Dad was a wee bit out of shape but it was a true memory that I care with me and tried to pass along to my son. The only problem is that time alters things. This is true not only of number of things past but of one of his physical abilities. Now a days I too am out of shape, half a day in the field and my buns are dragging just as did my fathers.

So I was with friends paying $80 for an Iowa hunting License then another $400 for motel, food, Captain Morgan and God knows in the casino all for the right to blow holes in the Iowa air. After ½ a box of shells I had one bird in the bag, not much to put on the table for our annual dinner party with friends. Fortunately, several of my friends had better “luck” nailing a few more birds. SO into the freeze they went added to a few birds from the prior year we had enough for a dinner party.

Three new birds and three old birds. How old were they? I had forgotten, anyway out came a special receipt and the birds were cooked and our guests were served. We also served a lot of wine especially to the guest that got the OLD birds. I got an old bird myself and had to open another wine bottle. My bird had been in the freezer for too two many years… and putting it ‘under glass’ didn’t help a bit.