What does squirrel taste like?* I’m not keen on eating rodents usually, but I’ve always thought some squirrel stew might be fun to try.
*You’re not allowed to say “like chicken” or “kinda gamey.”
Ok then, squirrel tastes pretty much like rabbit. Happy now? 
Well, I’ve never had rabbit (not that I know of, at least), so I can’t vouch for what John Carter of Mars says, but I can tell you that squirrel, at least when it’s not fried, most definitely does *not * taste like chicken.
And now that you’ve taken “gamey” away from me (damn you! 
), let me see what else I can come up with:
::searches internet for synonyms of “gamey”; comes up with nothing referencing the taste buds::
Given the inadequacy of the internet in this regard, I can tell you that, in my experience, it almost looks like beef (I’ve only had it stewed, with gravy and rice). As for the taste…shit, that really is difficult to pin down. I’d say that it doesn’t remind me of beef in the way that horse does, but, having no other descriptors available, if I *had * to pick something, I’d say that it does kinda remind me of beef, except that it’s more…well, gamey.
Sorry, dude, but I reckon that it’s one of those things you just have to experience first-hand in order to get some kind of idea WRT the taste. I’ll ask my mother what she thinks, and if she comes up with a better (or different) description, I’ll post it here (or, if the thread dies in the next couple of days, I’ll let you know via e-mail if your addy’s in your profile).
You want to know what’s cool, though? Feeling and, uhhh, playing with the squirrel after it’s fur has been burnt off, but before it’s been eviscerated. The body is still intact, of course, and it looks and feels like a firmly stuffed, yet fur-less, well, rat. Interesting, and strangely cute–definitely cuter than a regular rat (blech!).
I know somebody that will try to eat anything he can catch. He says that Raccoon is extremely bad, and to use a word to gamey, I’ll say rancid.
He was devorced when I knew him, and he actually cut up a deer in a room he wasn’t living in. The wooden floors aree stained in blood. I amazes me what he does sometimes. He had a small cave he hid in when skipping school.
Too bad I’m moving from Dorchester County in about 14 hours, then, eh?
What I had against the situation wasn’t the poor little mammals, but the fact that to better clean out the vest in whose pockes their carcasses had been stuffed, my dad would make me wear it. Then he’d wipe the front & back and then clean the pockets out really well. IT STUNK! In the truest sense of the word.
I was thinking of this thread the other day when I saw a bit on the news about a man who makes his living in TX by daily trapping and selling by the pound feral pigs. He doesn’t do the slaughter nor the seed money of piglets, so he’s raking in $$ hand over fist I bet.
Well, it wasn’t really fair of me to take “gamey” away. After I thought about it I couldn’t come up with a way to describe venison, elk or buffalo without calling it “gamey” either.
I’m still up for some squirrel stew, whatever it tastes like. As long as someone I trust says it doesn’t taste like pure evil, serve it up!
There’s a group in the Atlanta area that does this in parks and subdivisions even.
This conjures far too many carousel-crossbow hybrids in my head. I assume they do the hunting after clearing the area of people and after/before hours, etc? That’s how they did the Metroparks, they opened at dawn for the hunters and a couple hours later for everyone else.
What does one do w/ the carcass of a sick animal anyway?
The group is called Suburban Whitetail Management of North Georgia. I don’t think they use crossbows, but I’m not positive. Crossbows are LOUD, which probably wouldn’t be good in a suburban setting. I know that the contact person on the site is a recurve bow shooter. They have fairly stringent requirements for anyone wanting to participate. Interested hunters must be able to pass a shooting accuracy test, and must be able to do so from an elevated stand.
Most traditional (vs. crossbow/compound bow) shooters aim (heh) to keep their range at around 20 yards, so they wouldn’t have bolts or arrows flying all over the neighborhood.
When I lived on the farm, hunting cost me nothing, or next to nothing. I have my grandfather’s guns and and he stocked enough ammo to get me through a small war. Just the license, but theoretically didn’t need that if I wanted to claim crop damage.
Anyway, after several years I found rifle hunting on my own property to be ridiculously easy. Spending all year on the farm I was on a first name basis with most of the deer. Typically all I’d have to do is walk up to one of the bigger bucks the day before hunting season and ask him if he could meet me by the pond the next morning at 8 AM to help me with something. The next morning he’d show up and I’d say “Could you stand on that tarp over there, George?”
He’d say, “sure.”
BLAM!!
Ok, it wasn’t quite that easy but you get the idea. Then I’d make a ton of deer jerky, which is quite yummy.
Seeking a challenge, I got involved in bow-hunting. I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a bow, arrows, points, practice targets, clothing, calls, tree-stands, scent reducers, probably several thousand dollars.
I never actually did shoot a deer with a bow despite several years trying, but I had a lot of fun.
Now I have two little girls and I don’t have the time to hunt and haven’t for like five years. We play with Barbies and such.
Hunting with a bow was far more cost-effective than having girls.
Heh. Sounds familiar to me! 
Not to hi-jack my own thread, but the best archers I’ve ever known are women; maybe you should combine the bows and the girls and save some money in the process? (That is, until they start competing, etc…) I think **Archergal ** might back me up on this, no?
You’re leaving?! Nooooooooooooooo! **Now ** who’s gonna show me the gay bars when I come home to visit? Actually, I suppose that my cousin, who’s spent his own share of time frollicking with the queens in Chaaahhleston, can take me, but it might’ve been nice to have you tag along. And perhaps levdrakon, too, the easier to get him some squirrel stew. 
Squirrel carcasses stuffed in pockets, eh? Funny image.
The last time I watched my uncle gut squirrel carcasses (a few years ago), he mentioned the smell in no uncertain terms. Not feeling adventurous that day, I kept my distance. And, apparently, wisely so.
Well, I reckon that you *could * come on down during my next visit home (whenever **that ** may be, given the pace of my life, the fact that I don’t get *any * paid time off from work, and the fact that I’m flat broke), and I could get someone to hunt (which I don’t) and cook them (which I probably could do myself, though I’ve never done it before).
Barring that, I wonder how well squirrel stew would do traveling out to Cali.
And though I can assure you that it doesn’t taste like pure evil, I understand different strokes for different folks and all that.
And deer? I love it, even if the smell of it cooking is rather, uhhh, distinctive.
The little wisp of a girl that sold me my bow casually pulled down a competition bow with a 70 pound draw, held it to her and talked to me about technique.
When I tried to pull it, I almost snapped a testicle with the effort.
I still don’t understand that.
Was her name Diana?
Or did her bra fit kinda, you know, funny?
Heh. I was trying to think of a way to ask that, and failing.
From this diving site :
The south-eastern corner of the rifle range is Yellow Rock, the most notorious rockfishing location in Australia. Something like 100 fishers have died at this location after being washed off the rock platform into the ocean.
To be honest I had no idea it was that dangerous.