From Shoot to Table: Why Wasting Game Isn't Sporting

Do We Have a Duty to Serve Game on Our Shoot Days?

 As we've all seen over time and heard about from Jonathan Young's very amusing "Stiff Upper Lip" article; there's a wide range of guns in the field. From the calm, seasoned marksman who carefully selects the best bird and takes it with skill and elegance, to the bloodthirsty, lead-spraying enthusiast who fires at almost anything in sight. But one thing we rarely discuss is what each of these guns becomes by day's end when they tip the keeper and decide whether or not to take their quarry home.

Are you the one who strides up feeling the crowns pretending to have a clue what you're looking for or perhaps you’re the one willing to slink into the shadows muttering about your overburdened freezers or "I'm certain the game dealer will want to sell them anyway." My Colour Sergeant at Sandhurst once eloquently explained to us that, “excuses are like arse*oles, everyone's got one but no one wants to hear it.”

But nothing frustrates me more than seeing a gun who's actively pulled the trigger on a woodcock as it jinks through the trees—a species facing decline—only to leave it behind at the end of the day. Woodcock are indeed a sporting challenge, and there's a time and place for them. But it’s baffling when a gun, who's knowingly shot one, then refuses to take it home and eat it.

I once witnessed at a shoot, a red-faced and sheepish gentleman being summoned back to take his woodcock home after initially trying to slink off without it. Sadly, even if it made it home, it likely hung too long, left untouched by someone unsure how to prepare it, and ultimately went to waste—a poor end for such a prized and rare bird.

We, as guns, have a responsibility to set an example and protect the sport from bad press. Until the supermarkets are willing to take game, it’s so crucial for the sustainability of the sport. Yes, it’s easy to climb on one's high horse about it, but it genuinely puzzles me when guns don’t take a brace or two home after the day's sport. Certainly, there are practicalities—no one, particularly security, relishes smuggling a few brace through Inverness Airport on the journey south, or traipsing through King's Cross with a brace slung over the shoulder (I have witnessed this, and fair play to them!) But I suspect that these are rarities so why don’t more people opt to take them?

With supermarket food prices so high and household budgets tighter than ever, why turn down the chance to enjoy what is essentially free, lean, healthy, and delicious meat? It beats mass-produced, often drug-laden supermarket alternatives. For the sustainability of the sport alone, this reluctance doesn't make sense to me. My best guess is that people simply don’t know how to prepare or cook game. So where do we start?

First, I believe that all shoots should, where possible, serve game on shoot days. This isn't about offering a full spread of roasted pheasants at lunch, but rather about presenting creative, easy, and appealing ways to cook game; why not serve at elevenses some crispy Keralan partridge or game scotch egg inspiring shooters to think, “God I need to try that at home.”

Then there's the matter of cost. Given the tight margins most shoots face, it seems barmy not to use the game from the estate. It's hard to understand why some shoots sell birds to dealers for a pittance, only to spend ten times that amount buying chicken or beef from a supermarket to feed the guns.

I'm always struck by the beautifully prepped and presented birds at some shoots, although I'm equally curious about the added expense. There's no doubt that it does wonders to encourage people to accept the birds at day's end, which I'm all for, but is this extra preparation cost-effective? Is it something all shoots can afford? While I certainly hugely appreciate the extra effort, I wonder if we as guns should not require that added luxury to be corralled into taking game home.

To be clear, I'm not suggesting that we should be taking all our birds home at the end of the day, but woe betide the gun who takes the liberty to shoot a woodcock and doesn't have it on toast the following morning. What I'm saying, however, is that we should take as much as we can, and I believe we, as guns, should push for assurance from the shoots that what we leave behind is going into the supply chain. After all, if we as guns are not willing to delight in our quarry, how can we expect others to eat it, and how can we continue to protect the sport?

Last week, the RSPB released undercover footage suggesting illegal activity related to raptor persecution. All eyes are on countryside sports, and it only takes one incident to ruin it for us all. Should anyone catch wind of game not making it into the supply chain, the repercussions could be severe.

New Tricks

As a child, I spent hours learning to pluck, gut, and butcher birds, drilled by my father on the principle that if I shot it, I must process it myself, a skill we need to keep passing on. With the world in a constant state of flux and the prospect of WW3 ever looming, knowing how to prepare your own game might just be the ultimate apocalypse-ready skill. After all, when ration packs run dry, we'll see who's laughing wandering up the Kings Road with a brace of partridges under their arm.

However, only recently did I learn how much time and mess can be saved with a nifty trick to crown the birds. Like an aggressive chiropractor, by standing on the wings of a pheasant with the bird facing down and pulling the legs up toward you neatly removes the crown in seconds. Partridge and pigeon can be crowned by placing both thumbs between the breastbone and pulling apart. There's a time and place for a fully prepared, oven-ready bird with legs and all, but for processing larger quantities, crowning is a game-changer.

 How to Field Dress a Pheasant in 10 Seconds, Hunting Skills - YouTube

How to prepare / crown a partridge for cooking / Christmas - YouTube

So, what's next once you have your beautifully prepared meat? What do you do with it? All too often, people are put off by the thought of an overcooked dry, roasted pheasant—and I understand that!

Grubs Up

Thankfully, there are so many ways to prepare game that I urge all shoots and guns to explore them. The chefs would turn to brining as a restaurants go to for making the meat juicier and tender. I'd wager that largely no one has the time for that so I want to help inspire people to cook with game more.  For example, a Pheasant Bentley Supreme: tender poached pheasant in a creamy white sauce, topped with bacon and breadcrumbs. The king's favourite, and a dish I'm confident could win over any skeptic. And there are plenty of other options from partridge satay and crispy Keralan-style partridge with spicy mayo, to Venison Pad Kra Pao, crispy chilli venison, wild mushroom and pheasant risotto, and so much more. 

These may sound like something off a Michelin menu, but I assure you, they're achievable—even if you usually burn toast. These dishes might just be the reason game makes it past the boot of your car and into your kitchen.  I'll be sharing the recipes, so buckle in and follow @stockpotandtwosmokingbarrels.