by John Cook
I grew up eating squirrel, deer, fish, chicken, lean pork, and sirloin steaks. To say that I was a fan of lean meats would have been a gross understatement. I remember the excitement of the squirrel cleaning process and my brother and I playing with the squirrels like He-Man action figures. If you have never beheld a skinned Cat squirrel they look like a miniature Ron Coleman. I fondly recall rolling out plastic sheeting over the supper table and grinding venison until my arm turned to jelly. For many, the vision of dressing, skinning, quartering, and boning meat would turn their stomach; for me it is the excitement of all the delicious meals that are to come.
It is an invaluable blessing to have grown up with so many memories of hunting, fishing, and harvest activities in the creek and river bottoms of East Texas. Now, with three teenagers, I spend the bulk of my time raising and finishing animals for the highest quality meat possible. On an 1800 acre ranch in the Mud Creek bottom I was introduced to Wagyu. The man who brought the first Wagyu cattle to South Africa in 1999 was now in Texas and I got the benefit of learning some of what had taken him decades in a very short time. When I say Wagyu I am not talking about a Wagyu cross. These are full-blood A5 Wagyu cattle. The kind of bulls that can go for over 100k, in fact, the beef we raised and finished won the American Royal Steak contest twice. A very generous allotment of beef was part of my compensation so my family and I feasted on the absolute best beef available; however, being the lean meat lover I am I always refused the ribeyes, choosing only the flank steaks, skirt steaks, denvers, and sirloins. I was given a top notch ribeye that you would pay two to three-hundred dollars for in a restaurant and I promised I would try it.
Months went by and it worked its way to the bottom of my deep freeze. One Saturday I had worked half a day feeding, tagging calves, and putting out hay. I returned to an empty home with all my children gone with their mother. I decided I would cook and eat the ribeye. I put it out to thaw while I peeled some sweet potatoes and prepared some asparagus for savory sides. I seasoned it well with a little spicy Texas flair and seared it on a hot, well-seasoned cast iron skillet I had inherited. The fat melted into a thin oil and the irresistible aroma of the very best food Texas has to offer filled my nostrils. My stomach rolled and growled in anticipation of a feast worthy of a king. I cut into medium rare perfection; it was everything I had been told it would be. It was by far the best meat of any kind I had ever tasted and yet along with the mashed sweet potatoes and asparagus sauteed in butter and garlic, I was unsatisfied. A small ball of sadness sunk into my soul. I wanted to share this with my children, and even more I wanted to share in a wild harvest. I wanted to bask in the inherent goodness of processing, cooking and eating an animal we had ethically harvested together. I yearned for laughter and stories around a campfire, teaching my children woodsmanship, hiking deep into the wilderness and feeling the goodness of a hard fought battle. The skill, discipline, and hard work it takes to harvest and process free ranging wild game is something that makes us better humans. It sharpens men, women, and children alike.
As a result of our hi-tech health care and renewed focus on good nutrition, the population of this world will continue to grow. One day every piece of private land will have a house on it. The preciousness and absolute necessity of our public lands can not be overstated. The time has already come when politicians will try to sell off some of these lands. There could be a time when children will not be able to grow up like my children and I did. Every person that has ventured deep into the wilderness; no matter what activity they are engaged in, felt how special it is. From the vast dark space of Big Bend to the unfathomable expanse of the Brooks range we can escape the dangers of screen time and modern living and be connected to something that knows no evil. Stand in a place where men and women stood thousands of years before you and see and feel very much what they did. There is actually a better life than what the finest restaurant in Vegas can provide.
