McBEE'S TRAVELS

I was working on an article about urban foraging when I realized my focus on gathering fruit, berries and nuts was flawed and short-sighted: All are produced for only a short time each year, late summer to early fall (and with some nut trees, like walnuts, individual trees don't produce every year). You might be able to fill up on plums and apples and blackberries every August and September, but unless you dry or can assiduously you'll be standing in line for your Happy Meal like everyone else come November. Nuts have a much longer shelf life, but there usually is some processing involved. And, locally, there really aren't that many edible nut-producing trees around.

While gathering walnuts and hazelnuts, I learned that I faced stiff competition from local squirrels, who could climb a lot higher than I ever could, and were quite willing, apparently, to harvest long before the nuts were actually ripe. While watching the squirrels collecting already-fallen nuts under the trees, I observed that they would sniff each nut first, then ignore some of them and gather the rest. I, of course, would follow and gather all the nuts I could lay hands on, including the ones the squirrels had shunned. I never tested this theory empirically, but I suspect that the nuts that were rejected were the ones that I found out much later to be simply empty shells, or with withered, useless nutmeats.

Out of this resentment, perhaps, grew a new chapter and direction in urban foraging: What about meat? I watched a squirrel hopping along outside my window, fattened up on walnuts, hazelnuts, and the occasional road-kill pigeon, and asked myself: Why the hell not?

My first call went to the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife. I asked their urban biology specialist whether it was legal to catch and eat city squirrels. He paused, and mulled around the idea for a few moments before saying that urban squirrels are introduced, non-native species and, as such, are considered to be "invasive" pests, as they tend to displace the only native species of squirrel, the Douglas squirrel, or chickaree. So he said that agency wouldn't have any problem if I wanted to "take a few out." He advised me against discharging firearms within city limits, and suggested I contact the appropriate municipal agency. Otherwise, he said, "knock yourself out!"

Thumbing through the city blue pages, I decided the closest match was Rodent Control, because what is a squirrel but a rat with a fuzzy tail? (That cute squirrelly hop helps to separate it in our minds from its naked-tailed brethren, but it remains a rat with better P.R.)

Phoning Rodent Control, I carefully explained the goal of my research, as I had at the DFW. I told the operator that this was not a prank, and that I would probably never actually do so, barring nuclear holocaust and complete collapse of society as we know it (I didn't mention that last part; I knew better), but that I was just curious as to the legality of the prospect. The operator asked me to please hold, and in about fifteen seconds I found myself listening to the dial tone.

I figured I had been cut off in error, so I called back, getting a different operator this time. I explained the whole thing again, calmly and carefully. In another fifteen seconds I was listening to the dial tone again. I realized what I was proposing was beyond the ken of the city flak-catchers, so I cast about for another angle in.

A call back to DFW earned me the number of a biologist for the city. I left a very terse, scientific-sounding message on his voice-mail and crossed my fingers.

He called back the very next day and told me he'd been quite intrigued by the question, enough to make a few calls of his own. The results, he informed me, that as long as (a) I was not discharging firearms within city limits; and (b) I was not using traps termed "cruel and unusual," as currently redefined by a new state law (the "crushing" traps are illegal, the "piercing" traps are legal - it's all about a quick, humane death for the varmint) I could indeed catch and eat the city's squirrels to my gustatory delight.

"Oh," he tacked on, "you might want to give Fish and Wildlife a call..."

"Already did. It's okay with them."

"Well, then, bon appetit!"

I haven't done any such thing, as yet. But I can tell you for a fact that the squirrels on the UW campus are so used to being fed by students that the cute little things will crawl right up your leg if you've got a peanut in your pocket. More soon.

Get lost.

OTHER STORIES YOU'LL LIKE:

A hitchhiker wakes up high and dry 8/01

Stalking the Wily Abalone 10/99

Whale Meat Again, Don't know where, don't know when... 8/00

Don't ask the pigeon for dating tips because this is how it will turn out. 3/02

Dick's Drive-Ins: Can They Outlive the Replicants? 2/00

Ryan Wells Samoan Delicacy, Worm Debauchery.5/03