The downside of country living :(

      No, we don’t have the hustle and bustle of city life or the cars constantly swooshing past the front window or the buses rattling over the speed bumps outside the front gate.  It’s quiet in the country. Apart from the occasional car in the background, the totally tone deaf seagulls practising from the rooftop, and this afternoon, the regular crack or thud of a gun. The men are out shooting their Christmas pheasants, partridges and ducks. 

     It didn’t worry me too much in the beginning. But then I was given two baby partridges to cook for dinner. Even then I thought I could do this, it’s just like chicken, isn’t it?

     I read up about cooking partridges – not too long or they get tough, bacon across the breast keeps them moist, etc. etc. But when they were almost done, I looked at those two little birds in my oven – one each, they’re so small, about 20cm from top to toe – I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat them. They’re smaller than any chicken I’ve ever eaten. We had Sunday lunch’s left over chicken warmed up in gravy with the bacon pieces that night! The partridges were buried in the black plastic coffin!

     What I’m going to say to the very kind person who proudly handed over his kill, I’m not sure. I hope he doesn’t ask!

     It’s a way of life one needs to be brought up in, to shoot birds for the pot, or for sport. I’ll stick to gifts of home-grown veg, eggs, even bacon and a chicken or two! And try to shut out the thuds and cracks splitting the quiet village sky!