by Glen R. Blackwood | RGS & AWS Regional Director of Development – Lower Peninsula/Eastern U.P. of Michigan & Indiana
“Mouthful of Feathers”
Publisher: Cornmill Press
Paperback
$16.99
Editors: Reid Bryant, Greg Mc Reynolds, Thomas Reed
A Buffet of Birds
There is something comforting about an old-fashioned potluck meal, surrounded by family and friends, both old and new. Whether the location is a church basement, a high school gymnasium, a county-fairgrounds or a park pavilion is moot. What matters is the experience of home-cooked flavors and the home-spun conversations that occur. This medley of vegetables, casseroles and desserts may seem to be the gathering’s focal point, but only the best potlucks are sewn together by a common thread: a thread of community.
In my boyhood, our local sportsmen’s club held an annual wild game potluck each winter. The club charged a nominal fee with the funds raised supporting the local county orphanage. It truly was a county-wide community event. Folks from all walks of life attended – and the dishes served were just as diverse. There was moose, elk and antelope alongside muskrat, raccoon and pickled suckers (head attached) presented as if it were a smoked salmon as well as an assortment of gamebirds, waterfowl and rabbit and squirrel entrées. Presented in front of each dish was a small placard that described the dish and by whom it had been prepared.
My father was the county’s game warden and our family was deeply involved. My grandmother’s crimson-colored, velvety Harvard beets and my mother’s duck and dumplings were perennial favorites – enough so that both ladies made multiple batches, so that everyone could enjoy the taste. For a home economics class project in high school, I contributed a crockpot of gamebird soup. It was a clear broth full of pheasant and quail protein and garden-grown vegetables. Washing the empty crockpot at the evening’s end, I realized that wingshooting offered more than a flush, shot and retrieve. The home economics project taught me the importance of contributing to a like-minded community.
That sense of community has expanded since my boyhood years. Through the internet and social media, like-minded folks from across multiple geographies can come together, sharing thoughts, ideas and, best of all, prose. The enjoyable book “Mouthful of Feathers” is a prime example of modern collaboration.
“Mouthful of Feathers’ is an anthology of upland bird hunting stories, featuring both known wingshooting authors and new voices. The volume’s voices and their themes are diverse, as are the gamebirds, dogs, characters and topographies that these contributors base their essays upon. Their diversity is eloquently stitched together by the book’s editors, Reid Bryant, Greg McReynolds and Thomas Reed.
I have always enjoyed anthologies as they provide a variety of flavors to the reader, offering a “potluck” of tales, if you will. Just as the name “potluck” describes, sometimes that taste is just not for you. In this case, the editors presented a menu of essays that were both satiating and memorable.
These essays are certainly not your run-of-the-mill bird hunting yarns. They are well developed and address the human condition as well as moments afield, stories that offer a variety of perspectives and landscapes. The reader’s mind will see the stone walls and abandoned orchards of the Northern Kingdom and hidden woodcock covers of the Appalachian’s, then be grasping for air chasing chuckars amidst harsh scree and feel the burn of the sun and tired legs on desolate wind-blown prairies that lay between western peaks in search of gamebirds, dog work and more.
The “more” in these essays is what I enjoyed the most as these essays are raw, truthful and caused contemplation. They express emotions in a fashion that is not normally found within the boards of a wingshooting title.
In the chapter entitled Connection by Els Van Woert, one of the several female contributors to this collection, she writes of her trials and tribulations of becoming a wild bird hunter.
“The only remaining question was whether to forgo meat altogether and become a vegan locavore or take my place in the food chain in the mold of the Greek goddess Artemis. In my logical brain, the ethical, reverent huntress route made sense. But in my heart, I still had doubt about the killing. Every time my finger touched the trigger, I found myself rooting for the birds, hesitant to consciously inflict suffering in a world already far too full of it.”
As the essay continues, she writes,
“I sliced my grouse along the breastbone on both sides. Tearing back the bird’s skin, I carved the deep maroon meat from its chest. The act felt gritty, but I began to see myself as part of a greater ecology, with needs within it worthy of being met. All living things, myself included, came into view as less significant, yet more sacred. Careful to harvest all the meat I could, I set the sharp-tail breasts on a plate, my hands bloodied. Then I seared the meat on a grill, feeding myself and my unborn child from the land.”
The poignancy of these passages and others throughout this powerful book adds not only depth, but also enhances the personal journey of walking behind gun dogs in the quest of more than gamebirds.
As this book was spawned by the internet and privately published by the editors, I did find the print somewhat small for my tired eyes. This is certainly a minor criticism as the book’s content was more than worth the challenge.
Like RGS & AWS, “Mouthful of Feathers” is about community. A book written by passionate sportsmen and sportswomen that find themselves surrounded by gun dogs 365 days a year, understanding that both our dogs and their lives are fleeting. Yet, something as simple as a spaniel whistle can resonate well beyond the distance of sound. This book’s prose demonstrates that not all hunts end in a mouthful of feathers, but all times afield with our dogs should be rejoiced. Each day is as savory as an old-fashioned potluck.
