“Do you want some moose liver?” the MH asked this weekend. “I’ve got 30 pounds of it.”
“Sure,” I answered. “I’ll take some — I’ll probably just make paté though.” I mean, I was game for antelope liver last fall, but moose? Moose are enormous — the one that the MH’s son shot this weekend was six hundred pounds! And it wasn’t even a particularly large moose.
I have to admit, I have mixed feelings about the moose. The MH was so excited when Robbie won the tag in the lottery this year, and the photo he sent me of Robbie with his dead moose is a picture of a very happy kid who has just had a great hunting experience with his dad, and so I’m happy for them. But I don’t really see the point of hunting a moose — they’re not renowned for their deliciousness (unlike antelope, my favorite, or even elk which are quite tasty). And it’s not like we’re totally overrun with moose — although they are scary and ornery and will charge a dog or a person if annoyed (which seems to be their usual state of being). So, like I said, I’m ambivalent about the moose.
But on the other hand, the MH and his son had a real experience out there on Saturday morning, and spent a couple of good father-son weekends before that hunting up the moose — and Robbie now has a set of antlers for his wall, and we’re all going to be eating a lot of moose this winter. Because if there’s anything I know about the MH, it’s that he isn’t a trophy hunter, and he hates waste. Moose tacos? Wonder what those will taste like …
