painted HG quotes onto t-shirts. Big fans. My twelve-year-old daughter even led the march into this craze for us because Katniss Everdeen rocks! She's such a good aim, she consistently shoots squirrels right through the eye! With an arrow! She knows how to field dress game and cook it up on an open fire she ignited herself. She's a kid and a hero/survivalist all wrapped up in a pretty braid of hair. What's not to love?
So why is it, while watching an episode of Duck Dynasty, where they showed how to prep a freshly killed duck for cooking, we got a "ewwww...gross!" from the kid? Have you seen this show on A&E? It follows the Robertson family who have built an empire producing and selling duck calls. The men all have ZZ Top beards, dress in camo and shoot stuff. Sometimes they're shooting golf balls out of the sky for fun, sometimes it's squirrels off the branches for dinner. They bring home frogs and the grandma, Miss Kay, fries 'em up in a pan.
I grew up a little redneck and most the redneck fathers out there will insist their children have the skills to feed themselves should the grocery supply chain ever be disrupted. It was a skill Katniss Everdeen's father taught her. It's a skill the Robertson family is continuing to pass down. It was a skill I learned at a very early age, but failed to teach my own daughter.
Hunting was tons of fun as a kid. We all had our own guns - including all the neighborhood kids. Age appropriate, of course. You had to be five to get your first BB gun, seven to get your first pellet gun, and ten to get your first .410 shotgun. As a suburban mother, the thought of arming a ten-year-old with a shotgun seems insane! And yet, we were all amazingly responsible with our "weapons" even though we were often unsupervised. There were rules to follow and no one ever was injured.
I've eaten squirrel - but nothing like the eyeball and brain-laden squirrel dumpling soup Miss Kay served up. We just battered and fried the meat on the bone. I've eaten frog legs cooked fresh from my grandparents' stock pond. Dove and deer were often on the menu. But that was a long time ago.
These days, it's baked (not fried) boneless, skinless chicken breast and handling the raw meat gives me the heebie-jeebies. I'll wash the skin right off my hands before I'll risk cross-contaminating anything else with salmonella.
There's not a stitch of camo in the house and if there ever came time when we needed some hunting clothes, I'd have to figure out how to pick off all those blasted rhinestones I've spent so much time gluing to everything. The high heels and flip-flops will be worthless, as will the light jackets that are 'just enough' to get us from the front door to the car and back again. Barefoot, cold, and sparkly, that'll be us.
I'm thinking that if we suddenly found ourselves in a post-apocalyptic world, the best I could hope for is a good wi-fi connection and a pin for a Martha Stewart tutorial on handcrafting bows...the kind you shoot, not the ones that make packages look pretty!
We'll be fine. My husband is a computer genius, I'm pretty artsy-crafty, and the kid figure skates really well. Yep. Fine. Good thing I've been saving all those toilet paper cores. They're sure to come in handy.