Every so often I hear from the new believer crowd that the “Tide has finally turned” and that “People understand why beavers matter now” and I make a grinding noise with my teeth and push back my bangs and point to articles like this. In FIELD AND STREAM no less.
It’s not over till its over.
You’ve Never Tried Beavercue? Maybe You Need to Start Trapping
I know hunters who are uncomfortable with trapping because they don’t like the idea of killing an animal without eating it. Generally, I’m of that mindset too. But there are limits. I’ve seen the virtue-signaling videos of people cooking and eating coyotes, for example, and carrying on as if they’ve done something really noble. But every winter I watch turkey vultures ignore skinned coyotes. Personally, I can avoid eating anything a buzzard won’t touch and still sleep OK.
Trapping teaches you a lot about using scents. Everything about the process has a distinct smell. Inside the cabin is a better odor, one of slow-cooking meat that’s not unlike that of a beef roast. I lift the Crock-Pot lid and seine away some of the fat that’s been rendered from the quarters bubbling in a stock of Coors Light, beef broth, onions, and seasonings. I pull at the meat—rich and greasy—and discard the bones.
I used to dread the off-season between the end of deer season and the beginning of spring turkey. But then Anse and I got into trapping. Now we spend that time making land sets for coyotes, raccoons, foxes, and bobcats and water sets for beaver, otters, muskrats, and minks. We’ve had better turkey hatches on our place every year since we started predator trapping, and that was the primary goal. But we’ve also come to love the season and the process itself. I skin and sell the raw furs and give Anse the few dollars we make for his piggy bank. We spend far more than that sending the prettier stuff off to be tanned and returned, to keep for ourselves or give away as gifts to friends. Michelle says she’d like to learn to flesh and soft-tan our furs herself, but for now, that’s just an aspiration.
Don’t you wish HE was your friend? How fun to have him bring a surprise for the backyard barbecue. Okay I wouldn’t be happy when he showed up with beaver or muskrat, but otter would be okay I guess.
We use the predators for their furs only. But show me a nice beaver killed clean by a 330 Conibear and held overnight in ice water, and I’ll show you the beginning of a good feed—plus a nice fur to boot. Beavers are obese vegetarians (an oxymoron, like jumbo shrimp) and the world’s second-biggest rodent species. The biggest is the capybara, a South American critter that also lives in the water and is equally delicious. I killed one once in Argentina with a Benelli shotgun and a makeshift load of buckshot made from steel ball bearings.
Insulating fat and a clean diet give beavers a flavor that’s often compared to that of beef. Bullfrogs and squirrels are said to taste like chicken but don’t at all. But a slow-cooked beaver really does taste like roast beef. Anse likes his best soaked in barbecue sauce and served on a sweet roll.
Beavercue sliders are not Michelle’s favorite food. Anse, with sauce already staining his long johns, knows this, and will not miss a chance to do some virtue signaling of his own. “Mama, you need to get a plate and eat some of this damn beaver,” he says. Then he looks at me. “It’s not a cuss word, right, because of beaver dams? And Mama said it earlier too.”
Sure, Beavers are good for water storage and fire prevention and biodiversity and flooding. Why wouldn’t they be good for sliders too? I mean I bet YOU would boil down to a decent slider. Wanna find out?
Ohh sure. Why not trap beavers when they’re pregnant? I’m sure baby beavers make good sliders too. Let this man live happily in his ignorance. Do not tell him that if he STOPPED trapping beavers there would be more otter sliders and duck sliders and turtle sliders and muskrat sliders for him enjoy next winter.
Well California trappers must be eating lots of beaver sliders. These authorized take depredation permits for 2021.
