No, it’s not me


I might as well go on record regarding this squirrel thing. I have eaten squirrel. My father wasn’t much of an outdoorsman unless you count the yard and the carport, but he did go through a hunting kick when I was a boy. He’d go off in the woods with a few buddies and his antique 12-guage shotgun and come back with a few stiff squirrels and the occasional rabbit. The squirrels were battered and fried, and I fell on them voraciously. I remember they tasted good, but I concede it might’ve been my boyish excitement at eating varmints procured in the wild by my Daniel Boonesque father.