Weekend Reading: From Adnan Sarwar

Been a while since I did a post about blogs that are worth reading. I've been chatting online with an interesting writer called Adnan Sarwar whose work on Sabotage Times I'd been reading over that last few weeks. His series Confessions of a Muslim Squaddie is both a coming of age tale and an interesting insight into the gap between disillusion and duty. Funny too.

Adnan Sarwar is a former British soldier who wrote a diary while serving in the Iraq War of 2003 and since leaving the military has written for The Guardian, Taki’s Mag, Channel 4 News and the Burnley Express. He has been a military adviser to the BBC and ITV for war drama scripts and acted in films, dramas and at the theatre. 

What do you do when you're the only Muslim in the squad and your leader gives you a dead rabbit?

From his story: Corporal and the Rabbit 

Corporal McBride had a Muslim in his section and had a lot of questions for him. What’s all this praying about? Five times a day? Fasting? Mecca? And if I’m honest I didn’t know much about it but I was the Muslim so I was meant to be the expert, I tried to keep up appearances as far and long as I could. During an exercise while digging a trench to sleep in, Corporal Mac asked me ‘What’s this Halal thing all about?’ I told him the animal had to be killed slitting the jugular vein at the throat, he asked why and I told him what I’d been told which was that it was to kill the animal quickly with the least amount of pain. He said he didn’t believe that would happen and asked why not just shoot it? Oh, I don’t know Corporal Mac, all I know is I need to dig this hole so I can get some rest in the soil. Look, I told him Allah had said it had to be done that way so we the Muslims did it that way, it’s just the way it was. He then asked what would happen if you went hunting and had to shoot an animal, could you eat it? I said you still had to slit the jugular vein and pray on it. He then asked what if you had found an animal dead in the woods, I said the same would apply not really knowing, all my answers were to cut throats and bleed. My parents bought meat from the Halal butchers and hadn’t killed it themselves but here in the army things were different. He told me it was a peculiar way to kill something and left me to my digging. Good I thought, hopefully there’ll be no more questions, I can’t be both digging a hole and an expert on Islam, I’m too tired today. I want to dig the earth, make a berm with it, clean my rifle, get into my sleeping bag and go to sleep until somebody gets me up for guard duty. No more questions, Corporal Mac.

The ground was soft from the rain which made it easier to bite into with the shovel but dirtied the sleeping bags and mats. I didn’t mind, didn’t mind at all, sleep was my goal and I could sleep anywhere, even in the damp soil. My eyes wouldn’t mind the wet, they just wanted to close. Once I’d rolled out my sleeping mat and put my sleeping bag down and laid on it, it felt just fine and made me smile. I was near sleep. I was sharing the hole with a friend, another soldier, and in between the two sleeping bags rested our rifles to be cleaned and cookers on which we boiled meals in mess tins. Every so often after the hard work was done for the day, I’d catch moments like this and remember how much I loved the army. Loved the digging despite being dirty, loved the soil despite it being wet. I had all an animal needed, shelter in my little earthy hole with a poncho over to keep away the rain, food in my ration boxes and drink in my water bottle, a little fire going which I could get warm off and watch and play my fingers into, and if you tried to attack me, I had a gun - bullets were my teeth. It was all I ever needed. The army wouldn’t allow me one but this would could be made higher than perfect by adding a small transistor radio. The rain outside could do what it wanted, I was under my camouflage poncho drinking a hot brew and if you came my way, I’d shoot you, listening to the Shipping Forecast, if they’d let me. Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Bang Bang you’re dead.

The army issued me Halal ration boxes and the lads would always want to swap my Chicken Tikka Massala meals for theirs. We sometimes mixed them all up in a mess tin and got a big stew going. Nothing could touch us here in our little holes with a little fire going, if Corporal Mac let us relax a bit we’d get a right old chat on in the hole all huddled in talking about where we were from, fights at school, girls we liked, and I’d stir the pot for us all. But not today. Corporal Mac came back smiling with an air rifle in one hand and a dead rabbit by the ears in the other hand. “Halal this, then,” he said as he put the rabbit in front of my hole. READ MORE HERE and you can find him on Twitter @adnansarwar

More soon

SBW

Hunting Rabbits In The UK Pt1

I've always hated that 'coming home from holiday' feeling, so when my plane landed at Gatwick, (or Gay Wick as the spell checker on my phone calls it) I thought I'd use the opportunity to soften my landing by going rabbit hunting on the way home.McShug lives fairly near the airport, he and I have been trying to catch up for what must be about a year now. We've beaten Pheasants and Stalked Fallow deer together, but this time we're going for the most 'english' of shooting on the most english of 'permissions'.

Majestic 'Thetford Red' Stags on Lord Pushbarrow-Handcart's estate?
Nah!
Woodland stalking Roe Bucks with a David Lloyd .240's?
Nope
Sniping Muntjac from a golf course with a moderated .223?
Close
Parkland Fallow with a .275 Rigby?
Sadly not!
This time it's Rabbits with a sub 12ftlbs air rifle on the village cricket pitch! How English is that? There are loads of ways to take bunnies, James and I used Ferrets, but this is the way generations of English boys have honed their riflery and filled the pot.

The weaponry of choice for the day: McShug's rig is the Air Arms TDR in .22 and very nice it is too. Where most manufacturers give you a naff 'james bond' style briefcase from Air Arms the whole Take Down Rifle rig fits in it's own neat backpack with space for your 'pod and tin of pellets. I was encouraged to note that the moderator/silencer is a vast improvement on the one that came with my older Air Arms S400. AA rifles are fantastically accurate, and even with a hefty Harris bipod and a scope fitted the TDR is still a very light rifle, super short and point-able. Ideal for protecting a cricket pitch from the curse of the were-bunnies. One advantage of the takedown format is that if and when you need to leave the land you have permission to shoot on and use a public footpath to skirt round to another position, the rifle is easy to deactivate and conceal. I've often thought about getting one myself, but until my daughter made such a convincing start to her shooting career I didn't really have a excuse to buy myself a specially light, short air rifle. But now...

The ground is small but perfectly formed, lovely mown grass to entice the bunnies and hedgerow on all four sides for them to burrow under, with big open fields on all sides. Perfect.

We drive on to the rough stuff outside the oval and start setting up and glassing the hunting ground. Straight away there are two rabbits in a stalk-able position about 150 yards away, a little more glassing the hedgerow and we sight another only 50 yards away and in an even better position! As we take the first tentative steps, there's a rustle in the hedgerow and a chump walking a dog blows it for us! That 17HMR is starting to look like a good idea, but this is Rabbit hunting rather than rabbit shooting - the stalk to within 35 yards is the name of the game, sadly some vegetarianism sometimes comes into it. 

We breach the fence and getting on to the foot path that runs down one side of the oval make the trip round the outside of the permission, but by the time we're starting to stalk back the light goes and we head for the pub. Somewhere in my gear pile I have a gun mountable flashlight so next time Mr Bunny, next time.

On the drive to the pub where we pass though the flint villages of East Sussex. Where the chocolate-box cottages are built from 'faced' flint and McShug drops a most excellent local history fact. We pass, the now sadly closed, Hungry Monk restaurant that was the birthplace of the Banoffi Pie. Not something you see every day.

No rabbits were harmed during the writing of this blog post. Bah!
More soon
SBW

True Banoffi Pie Recipe HERE
PS Air Arms make some very sweet rifles, and are the UK seller of the S200 which is made with CZ and available in the US as the CZ S200. Very sweet especially for the price.

Skinning Rabbits - Made Easy

Advice as good as this deserves a wider audience.

Yeah I know filler post, but a funny filler post.

More soon

SBW

Confit de Lapin AKA Knifeless Rabbit

Little Rabbit Foo Foo

Hoppin' through the forest

Scooping up the new shoots and
stuffin' 'em in his gob

Along came the Bambi Basher, who said:

'SBW, with the Rigby, could ya bop him in the head?'

I work the bolt and send Little Rabbit Foo Foo a dinner invitation

Little Rabbit Foo Foo
Hoppin' through the forest

Scooping up the vegi's and turning them into protein

Little Rabbit Foo Foo

I've cooked a fair few of your friends

I've got something very special planned for you too

The Confit [con-fee] has always had a special place in my larder and my heart. Meat boiled in fat, pretty much defines YUMMY. The traditional preservation method of south-western France where geese and ducks are cooked in their own fat and can be stored for months or bottled/canned for even longer. My Confit on the other hand has never lasted longer than a meal and a sandwich the next day. This one is seriously easy and delicious, it just takes a long time to cook

 Slice shallots and crush garlic

 Bone out the cuts of rabbit and save the carcass for the stock

Use the cuts to cover the bottom of a solid pan with a tight-fitting (and preferably heavy) lid

Lay the meat on top of the  shallots and garlic (for a little extra umami I added the rabbit's heart)
Pour in olive oil (or goose/duck fat if you have it) until the meat is almost covered

Add some springs of Rosemary. Get the pan hot and then turn down the heat to the lowest possible setting, put the lid on.

I added a glass of this really rank Zinfandel - A reminder that Ex Mrs SBW is not to be trusted in the wine section of a supermarket - to the stock pot with a couple of carrots and a stock cube. In it's defense the Zinfandel did sit well with the shallots adding a pleasing sweetness. 

Once I'd reduced the stock to half a glass I added it to the pan, and that's it. Come back in three hours and test the meat with a fork. 

This is the knife-less bit: if it's not falling off the bone, give it another hour, before testing again.  
You could use the results as the basis for a cassoulet, or serve them with pasta, polenta or mashed potato.


Enjoy
Your pal
SBW

Shhhh I'm Hunting Rabbits

Kent: 'The garden of England' Or A Giant Food Plot For Rabbits

If you want an answer: ask the question, ask and ask again, keep turning over stones, keep kissing frogs, until you find the one you want.

Here in Old Blighty there is no hunt-able public land. Animals can be wild and therefore belong to no one, but the land they are standing on is someone’s property and you can’t hunt on it without their permission. No Permission = No wild meat

Meanwhile back in the 'hood

The interview process for a new flatmate had been dragging on. The Co-op sends a list, we call the people, filter out a few nutters and ner-do-wells. Stay in a couple of evenings waiting for no-shows and just when we were thinking we’d have to start again in the new year the corner is turned, a nice chap turns up on one of the interview nights. The others like him and tell me they’re happy to live with him, if I like him he’s got the room.

We’ve chatted for a while. Seems like a good guy, I’m about to tell him he’s got the room if he wants it, when it occurs to me that I’m not just the mild mannered plumber and building contractor from the room next to the kitchen, I also have another identity, an alter ego, a super-hero identity. I’m SBW. The Suburban Bushwacker himself.

So it went something like this:

SBW “It’s only fair to let you know something about the way I live, [pause for dramatic effect] I occasionally come home with dead animals, [another pause for dramatic effect] not from the supermarket, but from nature. Animals that lived wild and free before they became my dinner. I eat road kill, and [one more pause for dramatic effect] I hunt. It’s very important to me, so it’s only fair to let you know up front, in case you’re squeamish about things like that, that I will sometimes be butchering whole animals in the kitchen”

“Really! Well I like eating meat and I’d like to come and hunt it with you”

SBW “ Excellent! As you’re from Kent maybe you can help, I’m looking for a farmer who’s over-run with Rabbits and Deer”

“My dad has a plant nursery, I’m sure he’d love you to come down and kill his Rabbits, they’re a major problem for him because they eat loads of his new plants”

SBW “Welcome home fella”

So the new-year is shaping up well, bathrooms to build, and Rabbits to hunt, wish me luck.

Your pal

SBW

Celebrity Feeds Rabbit To Coyote

Yawn, it's that time again. Another numpty has tried to cast themselves as a defender and guardian of all that's fluffy, cute [and delicious].The utterly meaningless Leona Lewis, (or 'The Butcher of Hallelujah' as music lovers know her) was, it's reported, enjoying a breath of fresh air between shops in LA when she saw a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk with the rabbit on a lead. She asked him what the was planning to do with it.
Being hungry and homeless he gave the only logical answer '... probably eat it.' Appalled, not by his suffering but, by the idea of one of Disney's little creaures being dinner, she offered him $100 for it. Being poor not stupid he accepted.
That most trustworthy of news sources 'a friend' is quoted as teling whover passes for a reporter these days that the bunny-wunny is now living in Ms Lewis' garden where she fondly imagaines it to be safe from any culinary adventures.
Rumors that Ms Lewis is completely ignorant [of Cats, Dogs, Bob Cats, and Coyotes] are yet to be proved.
Question "Who are these people?" on second thoughts ...GROAN we're surrounded. Modern Life is, as they say, Rubbish
SBW

Thanks to Holy Moly who found the story

Here's a useful guide to hunting rabbits from BASC, who also get the picture credit

This Weekends Recommended Reading

Blogs. Just like buses, ya wait for ages and then three come along at once. Two of them by the same dude.

First up I'd like to introduce Hubert Hubert an Air Rifle hunter from the bit of england between 'darn sarf' and 'oop north'. Lets call it the 'mid-lands'. The writes a blog he calls Rabbit Stew. Self described as

Surviving the credit crunch! Middle-aged bloke takes to the fields with an air rifle in search of free food.

.... because of a nagging sense that the stranglehold that the all-conquering giant alien supermarkets have on both the farmers that produce the meat and the Joe Publics that buy the meat is a fundamentally crazy, rude, unfriendly - and moreover, somehow, and this is where it gets a little less rational, I fear - yucky state of affairs: it just feels queasily, weirdly wrong to buy lamb chops from Tesco's. So, I don't really seem to do it any more. What I seem to do is go out and try to shoot rabbits instead (except I'm not very good at it, get very few, and have become, as a result, much more of a damn veggie than I'd have thought likely at the outset when I proudly purchased my manly, German, hell-bent-on-meat-eating air rifle). I seem to find myself thinking more and more of a little shack on the edge of a wood somewhere where I can dwell hermit-like with my Weihrauch, pot rabbits, pick mushrooms, grow a giant beard and, unbelievably, wash even less than I do now.

Nicely written and for such a new blog quite a few posts too. Welcome to the blog roll Hubert.

Best make your self a cup of something hot and a sandwich before you start on this one. For, dear reader, this is some blog. 

Alcoholism, Divorce, Penury, AIDS, Third world debt, Kleptocracy, Corruption, Land mines, and the fun doesn't end there. This blog contains all sorts of insights into the human condition, from the  grotesque to the inspirational. A really genuinely unique voice, and frankly the reason I've achieved so little this afternoon. 

A Hippo On The Lawn - the diary of an involuntary expatriate

Here's how it starts:

I am sitting in a 20-foot container, a reasonably well-appointed container admittedly but a container nevertheless. The kind of container in which people stuff cars, or building materials, illegal immigrants, whatever, or wash up on the southern coast of UK loaded with BMW motorcycles, that sort of container. It is one of a few that sitting on their little wooden blocks plugged into a generator together form the residential half of the industrial site that I am running........

......I came here nearly 14 years ago for a six-month humanitarian demining contract. Apart from occasional interludes in places like Gabon, Nigeria and Uganda to name a few, I have been here ever since. I have been shot at and stabbed in this country, I survived a plane crash here, got married and divorced here, have been formally expelled from the country and then very grudgingly and still precariously allowed to stay, been arrested three times and detained many times, went through a week long court case facing ten years for trumped up charges before being acquitted. I am raising a son here, have had seven varied and interesting jobs here, have a farm down south on which I intend to run sheep and have just finished building a house in the southern suburbs to replace the one I lost after the divorce. As much as the immigration services want me to leave, I want to stay.

I really can't do justice to his writing in a few short exerts, READ IT yourself. I promise you won't regret the time you spend on it. 

The last of this weekends blogs is also written by Hippo. 

Cooking In The Frontline is a recipe blog of stunning (and mouth watering) simplicity. 

.........I had better teach myself to cook. Easier said than done when in a war zone. It is all very well getting the best cook books but all of them assume that the local delicatessen or well stocked supermarket is but a short drive away. So I stopped lugging the books around in my back-pack and started to look at the ingredients that were available around me. I then figured out the best way to turn, what were sometimes collectively quite an odd assortment, into a dish that would not only sustain me, but was a delight to eat. Well I wasn't always successful, my rats in Satay sauce were, quite frankly, gut churning but I was desperate at the time.

To my surprise, however, I found that cooking in the front line, so to speak, was an enjoyable experience. It took my mind off the horrors around me and the discomfort we all suffered. It brought me close to a surprising variety of people and I am sure that on more than one occasion, instead of being ambushed, the smell of cooking wafting through the bush encouraged my would be assailants to appear sheepishly out of the gloom, weapons pointing safely towards the ground, politely asking if there was any going spare.

Sure he's no Hank, (but who of us is?) the great beauty of his writing is his knack of reveling just how easy it is to knock up terrific grub even in seemingly adverse circumstances. Think of him as an older, wiser, wittier Jamie Oliver, based in Angola. 
Off for a spot of fishing. 

Don't stay up too late reading will you

SBW

Birthday Post

My trip to the West London Shooting School was fantastic, a really great day out. But that story'll have to wait for another day.

In the meantime, through meeting a couple of his friends, I've been able to pierce the veil of James's characteristically english understatement; as the guys would have it James has a long reputation as a bunny slayer of some repute. So I was delighted when he gave me a copy of his latest DVD on hunting rabbits with air rifles for my birthday.

To many of you not living in old blighty, rabbits are hunted with .22 and shotguns. Here every country lad (and a few city ones too) starts out with an over-the-counter air rifle (legally limited to 12lb and good for a range of about 120 feet) and has to learn to get into range.

Here's a taster


If you'd like to learn how he gets so close, are wondering what the english equivalent of David E Petzal is like, or are just looking for a crimbo prezzie for the foodie who has everything, you can buy a copy here.

Must dash, birthdays don't celebrate themselves you know!
SBW

Stonehead - More Weekend Reading

I've been reading a few smallholding blogs this afternoon and a couple of them are certainly worth a visit. First up is:

Musings from a Stonehead: The trials and tribulations of a modern crofter

A transplant from down under living in the frozen north or Insch, in Aberdeenshire, Scotland as it's more commonly known. He lives on a croft (Scottish for very small farm) and tries to live the lifestyle my friend MCP (middle class peasant) is always espousing.
"We’re trying to lead a more traditional lifestyle while also minimising our impact on the environment around us. Our life is hard, but it’s ours and it’s a lot more fun than being a wage slave tied to the consumerist treadmill. So while the croft once supported four families and their livestock and is not likely to do that again, it’s a real pleasure to have one foot in the past and another in the future."
He has a great 'how to' section of neat tutorials. The one showing how he skins the rabbits he shoots, is linked here.

I enjoyed the tutorial and thought some interesting blogs might be found by perusing the comments left by other readers. What a world of delights awaited me! Some of the people who write in are like me interested in wild food, some smallholding, and some just small minded.

Funny chap, have a read of this discourse from his comments page

Chanel writes in to say "Eating rabbit is pointless. They are generally such a small animal that hardly enough mean to justify a killing is consumed. It really sickens me that you would post pictures like this. I have two rabbits as pets and I love them more than my annoying pomeranian. They are peaceful and quiet animals. Please, if anything, state your response in an intelligent manner unlike the mocking manner in which you replied to Jenna and Cayla."

Stonehead doesn't take any prisoners "You choose to exploit animals by keeping them as pets to satisfy your emotional needs. I choose to exploit rabbits by killing and eating them to satisfy my dietary needs. The rabbits I exploit roam free until the moment they’re killed, the ones you exploit are kept in some sort of confinement. Don’t pretend you’re somehow morally better simply because you choose a different form of exploitation.This is my blog and I choose to share some of what I do with like-minded or interested people. If what I post sickens you, then go somewhere else. (Did you not read the disclaimer?) I shall also choose to state my reply in whatever manner I choose, in this case pointing out that it is not possible to mock without possessing a reasonable degree of intelligence. On the other hand, it does not require a reasonable degree of intelligence to come out with an unintended oxymoron such as yours."

Do read his linked disclaimer it's hilarious!

If you stay home and read his site this weekend you'll be consuming less, learning a thing or two and the laughs'll make you feel better.

Well that's my plan anyway
As ever your pal
The bushwacker

Ashleys Site - Natural Bushcraft

Imagine if you wanted to find (nearly) all of the cool things that appear on the bushcraft websites and forums but you didn’t have the time or inclination to wade through the arguments and pomposity. Good News. A fella called Ashley has painstakingly collected together most of the best bits! Natural Bushcraft has the videos, the tutorials and a fantastic bushcraft quotes section. Life just got easier!
Well worth a visit, he really puts a lot of effort in, every time I visit I've seen something else interesting.

Thanks for reading
SBW

Show The Bushwacker To The Rabbit

Sunday morning dawned cold and transport-less, so I dressed up in a base layer of nylon sportswear, hoping the static generated would act as on-board central heating, with a layer of cotton work wear on top to keep out the thorns. I chose a bag that I'd be able to hose down if I needed to and said goodbye to the kids. As I was leaving the house I could hear Mrs SBW sniggering and singing Simon and Garfunkel's well known ode to successful rabbit hunting

'Bright eyes,Burning like fire.Bright eyes,How can you close the pain. How can the light that burned so brightly Suddenly burn so pale? Bright eyes.'

After three changes of train due to engineering works I was finally on my way to meet James for a spot of old-school rabbit hunting. With Ferrets.

And what a great way to spend the day it is,James and Sara met me at the station and we drove through the Sussex countryside. For readers in the US - it looks just like the farmed parts of my adopted home of Northern Virginia, except the roads are narrower and the cars are smaller.

James's dad's place is big enough to have several warrens all in different states of occupation. The biggest coney conurbation we investigated had been flooded out by the recent rains and was unoccupied. Of the five warrens we tried, two yielded a total of three bunnies.

The Ferrets are charming, they have an animated curiosity about them and while I'm sure rabbits view them as dangerous thugs, to me they look very pet-like and from what I've been reading are easy to keep as companions and hunters. Here in the UK their role in feeding a hungry nation is quite well documented with references in court papers going back at least as far as the twelfth century when a ferreter was listed as part of the Royal Court. Today Ferrets ownership and hunting counjours up an images of working class countrymen in flat caps and long coats (to hide the booty) with bulging trousers using them for poaching for the pot or pest control for the land owner but it wasn't always the case. In the 1300's you'd have needed an annual income of some forty shillings (I'm not exactly sure of the exchange rate - but it was quite a lot of money) to own a ferret and the penalty for unlicensed ownership would have been harsh. King Richard II issued a decree in 1384 allowing one of his clerks to hunt rabbits with ferrets and they're mentioned again in 1390 with a law prohibiting the use of ferrets on Sunday when feeding your family wouldn't be allowed to interfere with marshal archery practice.

Ferreting is very simple, at the end of the afternoon I asked James if there was anything more I needed to know and he replied 'that's about it'.
First you need a business of ferrets, two seems to be the preferred number. I'd recently read that one male one female was considered the best ratio, with males being more aggressive and females being more through, James reckoned that whatever you had would do at a pinch. We used the modern locator collars which certainly made things a lot easier when it cam to the digging. In days gone by you'd have had to tie a tread to your Ferret and let it pay out as the Ferret went down the hole, when the Ferret stopped taking line you'd know that it had either killed a rabbit and was taking a nap (something they're notorious for), or it had backed the bunny into a hole with no exit and wasn't letting it out. Either way it would be time to start digging along the tread until you got to the action. With a locator you're spared a hell of a lot of digging as you can find the spot from above ground and dig directly down. In the wet clay laden soil it's still hard work. If your lucky and it all goes according to plan, you've put you ferrets into the right holes the rabbits bolt out of the warren into 'purse' nets that you've secured over the exits. As the rabbit barrels into the net it's own momentum pulls the drawstring tight capturing it. These bolted bunnies are the most highly prized as without teeth marks from the Ferrets their flesh is untainted by coagulating blood and the make slightly less gamey eating.

On the subject of eating special thanks and a commendation must go to Janet (james's mum) for the huge, hearty country lunch she served us that kept out the cold and the AMAZING bread and butter pudding she made.

James has posted a video of our hunt here.

As Ferrets usually come in pairs, they offer up some amusing naming opportunities.
James had a pair called Dead and Buried and a lad called Robin who lives in Scotland and has a Ferreting blog calls his business Purdey and Kalashnikov!

At the school gates I ran into young R, (well he ran into me) a lad in bushwacker jnrs class, he's absolutely fascinated with everything 'survival' and was proudly showing me his copy of The Dangerous Book for Boys when his mum showed up. She'd heard about the forthcoming trip from Mrs SBW and wanted to know if I'd been. I told her we'd gotten three rabbits
S. 'where are they? in a shed in the garden?
SBW 'No! they're in the freezer!'
S. 'NO!!!'
She scuttled off dragging young R behind her leaving me wondering is she still speaking to us or are we now a family of evil rabbit killing hillbillys?
As they say up north 'there's owt as queer as folk'
Thanks for reading
SBW

PS If your interested in getting started yourself Deben have a DVD, sell the locator collars and net making kits.

Picture Credit
Stained glass, Long Melford,Suffolk. Picture by chris chapman
Have a look at his fascinating site about the motif and it's appearance in medieval art across the world.

Been A While Hasn’t It?

Sorry for the lack of updates, my laptop is no more and I’ve lost access to quite a bit of stuff I’d been putting together for the blog. In the meantime I’ve been catching up on a bit of reading. As I searched for new bushcraft blogs I found some that are a great source of information and entertainment, and quite a few that fit into the ‘good intentions being cast into the tides of everyday life’ section where a great start is made, and then it becomes an abandoned ‘ghost blog’.

Laplandica has proved a fascinating read, with its mixture of hiking trails and a historical perspective on the clash of cultures between the settled Swedish people and the nomadic Sami of the Arctic Circle. Stunning photos too.

A new voice in outdoor blogging is RJ Mosca author of common outdoor survival skills. He been a prolific poster so far and as a former instructor at an outdoor skills school he’s put the stuff he recommends to some pretty tough tests.
(I would say something like ‘keep posting’ but who am I to talk?)

Falls-Down Laughing blogs a mixture of cringe-inducing puns, historical north American recipes and folk lore. A very silly man. Check him out

Only two days to go until I take to the field with James from Sporting Shooter, in a heroic effort to rid the ancestral lands of the Marchingtons from the delicious curse of the bunny rabbits.
wish us luck
Bushwacker.

Really Actually Tasty?

Much to my surprise the office has yielded a lesson in preparedness and survival this week.

Due to the early January lull when the rest of the world seems to still be on holiday. Last weeks office life was at a much slower pace than could be productive. The morning football conversation extended beyond its mandatory 20 minutes and peaked on Friday at an hour and a half.
Work, as it was, centered around half-hearted researching, most of the day went on teasing each other and reading stuff out from the internet.
One viral email caught everyone’s attention and made me think about the nature of our dinner and our expectations of it.

LOOKS GOOD

EASY TO COOK

PLENTY OF THEM ABOUT TOO!!


As we watched to squeals of horror, the question everyone was asking, well more shrieking than asking, was ‘Would you? – Could you!”.
Mr. Bojangles (the resident song and dance man) has lived in Senegal for ten years so he speaks with an authority the others cant muster.
“In lots of the parts of the world people eat all kinds of stuff”
Would you? Have you? You didn’t!
“I wouldn’t be surprised if I had, in a lot of places people just need to eat, you never know what you’re being served ”

In the Southern US and much of eastern europe squirrels are well known as good eating, a few people shoot them to eat here, and a couple of the more adventurous London restaurants have them on the menu.

Well they call squirrels ‘tree rats’, maybe these fellas should be re-branded as ‘ground squirrels’. Hmmmm?

Thanks for reading
Bushwacker.

Ferreting Out Some Advice

I recently met with my new friend James Marchington editor of Sporting Shooter magazine.

If I had tried to imagine a quintessential English journalist afield, it would be James. Tweed jacket, spectacles and an encyclopedic knowledge of everything to do with guns and field sports. Sitting in his office surrounded by shotgun cartridges, rare books about deer stalking, ferreting and wildfowling he beguiled me with tales of life afield, cleared up numerous questions I had about firearms, their legislation, and the UK shooting fraternity. I had ‘popped in’ to see him for ‘half an hour’ and two and a half hours later I had to excuse myself so as to put in a token appearance at my own office. Wish I were still there.

James has kindly offered to induct me into the wiles and ways of the shooting gent, starting with an invitation to go ferreting for rabbits. With the proviso that I wouldn’t have to put any ferrets down my trousers, I enthusiastically accepted.

Ferrets? Rabbits? Trousers? What?
One very effective way of hunting rabbits is to flush them out of their holes by sending a ‘business’ of ferrets down there (great collective noun isn’t it).
You simply net off all the exits you can find and send a hob (male) and a jill (female) down the hole. When the rabbits come charging out into the net you kill them and eat them.

I’m from the south and you hear a lot of tall tales about the northerners and their strange rituals and antics. There has long been a folk legend about gentlemen of the northern persuasion using that that was intended for legs, as a storage place for these most able of helpers. Now it turns out that it’s true!! There really is a ‘sport’ called ‘ferret legging’ where you trouser ferrets and the last one to tear their own pants off in sheer terror is the winner. Probably more fun to watch than take part.

“Basically, the contest involves the tying of a competitor's trousers at the ankles and the subsequent insertion into those trousers of a couple of peculiarly vicious fur-coated, foot long carnivores called ferrets. The brave contestant's belt is then pulled tight, and he proceeds to stand there in front of the judges as long as he can, while animals with claws like hypodermic needles and teeth like number 16 carpet tacks try their damnedest to get out.”

The rules:"no jockstraps allowed. No underpants-nothin' whatever. And it's no good with tight trousers, mind ye. Little bah-stards have to be able to move around inside there from ankle to ankle."

For those of you without the inclination to read the full text here’s the punch line

The current record stands at an awesome 5 hours and 26 minutes!

Thanks for reading
SBW

PS One ferret, Freddie, is registered as an electrician's assistant with the New Zealand Electrical Workers Union.

Photo Credit

Stay Calm Ladies, It’s Not That Kind Of Rabbit

Mrs Bushwacker taught me this one with chicken, but as its Spanish I’m sure my bunny version is more authentic.

2 tablespoons of tomato puree
1 can of beans
a couple of cloves of garlic
Peppers 3 or 4
Onions 1or 2
A big bunny or a small chicken or both
Half a chorizo, sliced
Smoked paprika
Olives a goodly handful
Stock .5 litre or a pint
Wine 1 big glass or more (rioja if you have it, plonk if not)
A tablespoon of dark sugar

Fry some chorizo, set aside the chorizo
In the fat that’s left caramelise the tomato puree (i.e burn it a bit)
Fry onions and garlic
Set aside the now coloured onions, tomato puree and garlic.
Add rabbit (and or chook), brown and set aside.
In go the peppers.
Put onions and chorizo back in
Add tomatoes (1 tin per rabbit)
Add smoked paprika (at least half one of the little jars Tesco sell)
Add olives green or black to suit your preference
Add beans
Simmer 1.5 – 2 hours or until tender

If it seems too thin – turn up the heat
If it seems to thick - add more wine and or stock

Serve with rice, or bread or fried spuds, and the rest of the rioja/plonk
Yummy
Bushwacker.