There was a comment on one of Mrs. G's Facebook threads which included someone dining on pigeon during her honeymoon.
I said, "My dad shot a pigeon on the roof and my mother had to cook it."
Here's my poor mother with the bird and the arrow.
This is Spring 1960 and she is pregnant with me.
Reminds me of my mother (and her long-suffering sisters-in-law) faced with the sawed-up carcasses of countless bucks, deer season after gruesome deer season. Gah. Their deep-freezes needed garlands of crime-scene tape.
ReplyDeleteClearly a woman of fortitude!!!
ReplyDeleteThank goodness for feminism! When women can shoot their own pigeons!
ReplyDeleteReally, don't you use more energy plucking a pigeon than you get from eating one? Very unappealing :-)
This puts a new perspective on all my cooking assignments.
ReplyDeleteSo glad we never had success with shooting squirrels...
ReplyDeleteI can't say that your mom looks overly thrilled at the prospect here.