Road kill - additive free? Pseudo guilt free more like.
Arthur Boyt evidently relishes the chance to partake of roadkill and I wish him good luck as he seeks greater challenges for his adventurous palate. I'm not so sure about some of the claims though - "additive free"? Well as long as you don't include gravel, tyre rubber, rock salt, traffic film and the traces left behind by any foregoing carrion then I suppose you could describe it as additive free. As for
I don't mean to mock Mr Boyt's enjoyment of eating roadkill as what he does is laudable (though eating the dog, collarless or not, is a touch too near starvation measures for my own tastes).
I can only wonder at the sort of moral gymnastics that Guardianistas will be performing as they attempt to determine for themselves whether or not such a source of meat is "ethical". Various analyses will be carried out, perhaps adopting morphological tables to discern to the nth degree
the most appropriate ethical guidelines to be followed as to when it is ok to eat roadkill. Factors to be considered include: did someone else's car provide the killing motive power? Did that person either by act or omission cause the animal to be struck or was it purely accidental? Was the car powered by an eco-friendly means of propulsion? And so on.
The Torquemada-like George Monbiot will, no doubt, provide ethical guidance to his flock and tortured minds laid at ease. In summary, you can always rely on the Guardian and it's adherents to get right up itself (both in the sense of singular as well as collective plural) when it reports on matters that impinge on the "ethical lifestyle".
I'm indifferent on the matter, preferring to have first refusal at something that has either been chosen from the butcher's slab or found itself the target of my own means. My first meeting of our "new" Minister (this being back sometime in the adolescent depths of the 1980's) whose reputation for somewhat eccentric behaviour preceded him in a manner not unlike the bow wave of an ocean going tanker involved roadkill. It should be noted that roadkill was not a term then in general circulation, it being another god-awful neologism of Septic (predictably) extraction. In any case, that '80s warm summer's evening I was treated to the sight of a Honda C90 scooter bearing the person of a Church of Scotland Minister (being attired in the ecumenical garb was something of a dead giveaway and his lofty height, even while seated, matched the description that I had picked up on through word of mouth) and several dead rabbits draped over the pedestal in front of his feet. We stood and watched this somewhat odd vision disappear round the corner a hundred yards down the road before resuming whatever activity passed for amusement in those days. Barely had we done so when we heard the sound of the C90 re-approaching. This time it slowed down and came to a halt alongside us. The Minister introduced himself to us and it being the eve of the Sabbath, decided that perhaps a spot of catechism is appropriate. However, the unorthodox nature of his transport combined with the presence of the dead rabbits, their precarious perch and the rapidly increasing concentration of bluebottles distracts somewhat so after some mild interrogation, the Minister once more sets off for the Glebe, his reputation further enhanced and his larder the richer of the tarmac's bounty.
As a parting note, during my Texan sojourn last spring/summer, I was told to keep an eye out for roadkill that had had a circle spray-painted around it. This practice was to be found in the more rural parts of that great state and the area that I was headed to, Caddo Lake, was typical of the sort of place where it could be seen. The reason for the spray painted circles? Common-ish practice amongst campers in these areas was to circle roadkill as they found it on arrival. Then, first thing next morning they would head out onto the roads. Anything dead without it's own spray painted circle was "fresh" and therefore fit for the grill.
He said: "If the animal has been dead a while and has gone green the taste is a bit bland."- a direct consequence, I expect, of the smell having rendered insensible both the senses of smell and of taste.
I don't mean to mock Mr Boyt's enjoyment of eating roadkill as what he does is laudable (though eating the dog, collarless or not, is a touch too near starvation measures for my own tastes).
I can only wonder at the sort of moral gymnastics that Guardianistas will be performing as they attempt to determine for themselves whether or not such a source of meat is "ethical". Various analyses will be carried out, perhaps adopting morphological tables to discern to the nth degree
the most appropriate ethical guidelines to be followed as to when it is ok to eat roadkill. Factors to be considered include: did someone else's car provide the killing motive power? Did that person either by act or omission cause the animal to be struck or was it purely accidental? Was the car powered by an eco-friendly means of propulsion? And so on.
The Torquemada-like George Monbiot will, no doubt, provide ethical guidance to his flock and tortured minds laid at ease. In summary, you can always rely on the Guardian and it's adherents to get right up itself (both in the sense of singular as well as collective plural) when it reports on matters that impinge on the "ethical lifestyle".
I'm indifferent on the matter, preferring to have first refusal at something that has either been chosen from the butcher's slab or found itself the target of my own means. My first meeting of our "new" Minister (this being back sometime in the adolescent depths of the 1980's) whose reputation for somewhat eccentric behaviour preceded him in a manner not unlike the bow wave of an ocean going tanker involved roadkill. It should be noted that roadkill was not a term then in general circulation, it being another god-awful neologism of Septic (predictably) extraction. In any case, that '80s warm summer's evening I was treated to the sight of a Honda C90 scooter bearing the person of a Church of Scotland Minister (being attired in the ecumenical garb was something of a dead giveaway and his lofty height, even while seated, matched the description that I had picked up on through word of mouth) and several dead rabbits draped over the pedestal in front of his feet. We stood and watched this somewhat odd vision disappear round the corner a hundred yards down the road before resuming whatever activity passed for amusement in those days. Barely had we done so when we heard the sound of the C90 re-approaching. This time it slowed down and came to a halt alongside us. The Minister introduced himself to us and it being the eve of the Sabbath, decided that perhaps a spot of catechism is appropriate. However, the unorthodox nature of his transport combined with the presence of the dead rabbits, their precarious perch and the rapidly increasing concentration of bluebottles distracts somewhat so after some mild interrogation, the Minister once more sets off for the Glebe, his reputation further enhanced and his larder the richer of the tarmac's bounty.
As a parting note, during my Texan sojourn last spring/summer, I was told to keep an eye out for roadkill that had had a circle spray-painted around it. This practice was to be found in the more rural parts of that great state and the area that I was headed to, Caddo Lake, was typical of the sort of place where it could be seen. The reason for the spray painted circles? Common-ish practice amongst campers in these areas was to circle roadkill as they found it on arrival. Then, first thing next morning they would head out onto the roads. Anything dead without it's own spray painted circle was "fresh" and therefore fit for the grill.
posted by Inchbrakie at Tuesday, January 31, 2006
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