Road Kill Porcupine - Free Food!

Being married to a country boy has its plusses and minuses. The plusses are great. My husband Butch is a true Jack of all Trades. He can fix and build anything. He has such wonderful country wisdom, hilarious expressions, excellent sense of humor and a twang that cracks me up. His work ethic puts us all to shame. And his heart.... as big as Texas. He'll help anyone who needs it and he has an open door policy when it comes to visitors. He's  an excellent mechanic and can drive anything. He's tough and strong and brave and makes me feel very safe. He takes things as they come, is very laid back, rarely gets stressed and never complains about hard work, set backs, disappointments, things breaking, etc. He simply says, "Just part of it." He's been very good for this high-strung, nervous, worry wart that he married. And I'm oh so grateful.

Ok, now the minuses (and I only mention these as a lead-in to this particular story, not to take advantage of the opportunity to point out his faults. Really.) He likes SPAM. Lord in heaven. He has eaten a variety of interesting animals over his lifetime like opossum, squirrel, raccoon, wild hogs, grubs and even spiders (for whatever disgusting reason). He has eaten road kill and considers it 'already tenderized, free food'. Herbs and fancy dishes are not allowed but jalapenos are mandatory. Everything has to be fried, even his cereal. Grease is good for you and part of a healthy diet. His work ethic is enough to kill anyone, especially me. He doesn't believe in using a napkin, because he has a shirt. The same with Kleenex. Germs aren't an issue, hence not washing his hands as often as he should and leaving black fingerprints all over the place including my five pound block of cheese. In fact, germs are seen as good things that help to build up your immune system and are to be welcomed and allowed to hang around. The more the better! He believes that some jobs are just plain 'Wimmin's Work' and men don't go near them. Women are never supposed to cuss or spit or fight but they can chew tobacco.  NO complaining. NO kudos. NO sympathy. It all makes you soft. You're not allowed to have any fun whatsoever when you're working. It's just against the rules or something. And on and on. Sigh.....

 Some of these things were difficult for me to get used to. I mean, seriously? SPAM?? Ahem. While I was trying valiantly to ignore the Macho Bull Honkey and accept him for the glorious, wonderful, manly man that he is, he showed up one day with, get this, a dead porcupine. A ROAD KILL dead porcupine. And guess what he did? He shoved it in my face and said, "Here. Clean this." Well. FIRST of all, I don't know how to clean an animal. Didn't come up much while living in the city like a NORMAL person. Secondly, he wishes. I politely said, "You wish." Then, "Butch WHY do you think I know how to DO that? And WHERE did you find that thing? We have porcupines up here? Why does he look a little smushed? I hope you don't intend to actually eat that thing. Have you never heard of salmonella?!" Off he goes, grumbling something about city girls and cleans it himself. He then throws the hide onto a stump in the yard to 'dry out' where the dogs promptly attack it, chewing it and playing tug of war with it and I spend the next several hours picking quills out of their mouths, snouts, tongues, noses. That wasn't hard at all.

He then shoves the cleaned carcass in my face and says, "Here. Cook this." I back up from the weird smell and say, "You wish." and then, "And HOW do I DO that exactly? Does he go into a pot for stew or get cut up and fried or what? And it stinks. I'm not touching that thing and don't even think about taking it into my kitchen." Grumble, grumble, grumble, off he goes saying something that sounds like 'sunny beaches'.

He makes a fire in the outside fire pit and proceeds to cook the poor dead thing. I spy on him out the window from time to time, wondering who in the world I have married, and he just looks so tickled with his 'awesome find'. After a while, he calls me to come outside. He then shoves a piece of the cooked rodent in my face and says, "Here. Taste this." and this is the conversation that thus ensued:

"Uh, no thanks."

"It's good! Taste it."

"Um, NO."

"WHY NOT?"

"Well, let's see... it's ROAD KILL for starters. It could make me sick. It smells funny. And really, are we supposed to even eat porcupine? Is this an edible creature that God put here for our sustenance? Or is it just supposed to waddle around and make us laugh? NO."

"What's 'sustenance'? Really. Just taste it. Don't you want to say you have eaten porcupine?"

"No and no."

"You're just being difficult and stubborn. Just one bite. Really. HERE."

"SIGH........."

Did I mention that persistence is another of his more endearing qualities? I then realized he was never going to leave me alone till I ate of piece of that thing, so I did. And interestingly, it tasted fishy. Not interesting or surprising though, it was gross. Why would a porcupine taste fishy? Weird. I had that taste in my mouth for hours. Ick. The things I do for love. Or if I'm being honest is more for peace and quiet but if you think about it, is in the interest of marital harmony (sort of) so I can still claim it's for love. So there.

Thankfully neither of us got sick and more thankfully, we haven't had any more road kill anything since that eventful, hard-to-forget day. And I can say that I have eaten porcupine, for what that's worth. I told Butch that I could add that to my unusual culinary repertoire of frog legs, alligator, crawdads, lightening bug (not on purpose), moose and shark. Thinking he would be impressed by this list, I couldn't believe it when this road kill, spider and SPAM-eating man said, "WHY would anyone eat shark?? Gross."