If you calculated the relatively uninhabited land on both sides of the road all the way down to my post office it would amount to more than a million acres. And where do they like to hang out?
I'm really fond of cooking up a nice, plump sharp-tailed grouse. Grouse is a blood red meat of great flavor and surpassing tenderness: a true gourmet treat. The best place to rustle up a brace of them around here is in the federal wilderness area that abuts my place. But since it is a huge area, and no vehicles allowed, there's getting to be too much luck-of-the-draw walking involved.
But I have found a reasonably satisfying counterfeit, which I call "skillet grouse." Here's how you can make it yourself.
Cut one half of a boned, skinless chicken breast into 'medallions' approximately half an inch thick. (I buy my chicken in the large 'economy' trays and then wrap the individual breasts in cling-film and freeze them. Then I simply semi-thaw them, still wrapped, in the microwave for one minute. They are still firm and cut very nicely this way.)
Put the medallions in a bowl and drizzle them with lots of balsamic vinegar. I understand that the really first-rate balsamic can go for $400 an ounce or more. I get along very well with Star brand from WalMart— in the little bulbous bottle. It's cheap and very good. Let them soak in the vinegar for an hour or so. Less will work if you are in a hurry, but more is better.
Heat a cast iron skillet after spraying it lightly with Pam or equivalent, or spreading a thin layer of olive oil. Fork the medallions onto the skillet directly from the vinegar bowl and cook to taste, turning as required.
Serve it up hot! Goes great with a glass of red, too.
This is an easy, quick meal, that is both healthy and mighty tasty. Will it fool a grouse connoisseur? Probably not. But he's not going to leave any of it on his plate either.
Here's a little tale about my latest telephone adventure.
(As background: I'm not too fond of telephones anyway. Idle chitchat on one annoys me. This is probably because I am what is politely referred to as "hearing impaired." So impaired in fact that my state department for such things is now sending me a special telephone system that will enable me to communicate with the rest of the species as if I were fully human myself.)
So— I have a Tracfone instead of a "real cellphone" because I don't have cellphone reception where I live, nor for 30-or-so miles in any direction. Doesn't pay to have a phone that carries a monthly contract under those circumstances so I bought a Tracfone for those times when I travel or even just when I go to town.
I've had several problems with it, such as lately when it "broke into" an Alltel network and they apparently disabled the phone. Half an hour on the phone to Bombay (!) cured that. But lately there was more.
My service for the phone was due to run out on Monday unless I upped the time on it and on Saturday and Sunday we had a storm that more or less snowed me in and made it impossible to get to town. I would not only lose my service but the 700 minutes already on the phone. (Told you I don't use it much.)What to do?
I discovered that I could add minutes on the internet! So I did. But there was a note on the add-minutes page saying that I was now to turn on my phone and leave it on for 24 hours so the time could be added. To be sure I didn't lose my service I emailed the "Support" desk and told of my situation, emphasizing that I didn't have reception at the present time.
Within three or four hours I got a response back.
"Dear Mr. Arriba: Thank you for your interest in Tracfone. We are happy to resolve your problem. Please turn on your cellphone...etc..."
I wrote back and explained that they had evidently missed the part about my having no reception and that I only wanted to be sure that I had my service and my new minutes when I did finally make it to a place that had reception. They sent back a response in a few hours.
"Dear Mr. Arriba: Thank you for your interest in Tracfone. We are happy to resolve your problem. Please turn on your cellphone...etc..."
This time I was a little more direct, questioning why they had a "Customer Support" function if they didn't bother to read their customers' emails. They got right back to me.
"Dear Mr. Arriba: Thank you for your interest in Tracfone. We are happy to resolve your problem. Please turn on your cellphone...etc..."
OK. Gloves off now. I responded with some vigor, including comments about their language skills and how I was very disappointed in the whole line of Tracfone BS. I tactfully avoided commentary about their dubious ancestry, but closed by saying I didn't want anymore pointless chats with brick walls and all I wanted was to have my phone work when I got to town and to have on it all the minutes I had paid for. No response this time. All this was Sunday and yesterday.
This morning I got a phone call. Obviously international and poor connection to boot. Heavy accent. I explained that I was hearing impaired and the nice gentleman would have to speak more distinctly.
Hedidnotseemtogettheidearightawaybuteventuallywewereabletomakesomeprogress.
He did, however, ask me several times about whether I was able to get reception where I was. I patiently (and politely!) explained to the Nice Man with an Accent that there were indeed places in the world that did not receive the many benefits of cellphone coverage. He changed the subject.
At any rate, he was very apologetic blahblahblah but was unable to tell me why the "customer service reps" were not able to read plain, simple English sentences.
So after some nimble coding by my new friend I supposedly have a fully operative Tracfone with 840 minutes on it just quivering in electronic anticipation of me turning it on in a reception area and jabbering my fool head off.
We'll see.
I love our new international business climate. I love the New Responsiveness of corporations that the New Improved Communication Tools have made possible.
I love the Brave New World!
Thus endeth my saga, thus endeth my tale.
So now raccoons have joined the fray, along with coyotes who snatch cats and small dogs virtually from the arms of their owners, cougars who pounce on unsuspecting joggers, and bears who suddenly turn grumpy and homicidal. Makes you wonder what is going on, doesn't it?
Well, for one thing when you teach wild critters not to fear and respect you you have a problem. Humans and coyotes are not really meant to live in close proximity. Their politics differ so radically that it's really not a good arrangement for either of them. But as more and more people insist on expanding their habitations into environments which toothy citizens have had to themselves forever, there is bound to be some inter-species unpleasantness.
I'm reminded of folks who build a house in the woods and then call the state game commission to come and remove the bears that insist on wandering into their newly seeded yard and making off with their frisbees. Sensible game commissions tell the new arrivals to "deal with it" because the bears were there first. (There's also the story of the suburban woman who called the game commission and asked them to move the deer crossing sign near her house because too many deer were being killed by automobiles there.)
Most Americans don't know beans about wild things. Thus their sense of horrified betrayal when Rocky grows testy and clamps down on their ankle. That is no way for a lovable cartoon character to act! Nor is it pleasant to contemplate that bunny rabbits have fleas, cute little deer mice can carry bubonic plague, and that adorable little skunklet is a prime carrier of rabies.
Education might help. Fewer people would help even more. Neither are likely to happen. We'll probably be hearing from Rocky again.
I don't know what they're gossiping about, but they always seem to have plenty to talk about. They could just as easily light in a tree and have some cover. Instead they seem to prefer to be out in the open where they can enjoy the view. I'd give a shiny new quarter to know the latest topic of conversation.
Another dog post? Well, what did you expect?
My Emma is a big bitch— she stands 26" at the withers and weighs 65 pounds in hunting trim, as she is right now. She presents the image of a dog ready for anything and indeed she is. (More than a few males have tried to bully her and failed, sometimes with comic results. She will not be put upon and if she could talk would probably say "I can take care of myself!")
She's a pleasure to hunt with. She works close, is attentive to where I am and to voice, whistle, and hand signals. She also just about completely ignores other hunters and dogs when she's working, even when she knows them. Her points are stylish and rock-solid.
She has some faults, of course. She is a poor retriever, probably the result of working as a pup with dogs that did retrieve well and didn't give her much of a chance at that job. I also confess to being a lazy trainer on that score and letting her slide. She'll also sometimes strike a beautiful point on a spot where birds were but are no longer in residence. Other than those, she's a good worker and a pleasure to be afield with.
If you like dogs and enjoy hunting with one, you bond with them. It's a strange and powerful phenomenon that can't really be understood unless you experience it yourself. It's primal I suppose. Emma and I have bonded and I consider myself enriched by it. I don't think she cares: she just wants to hunt.
We're both looking forward to some good hunting together later this fall.
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