ne; do not parboil him.

Ruffed grouse are excellent roasted in the same manner, but should
first be parboiled. Mallards, teal, butterballs, all edible ducks, are
to be treated the same as grouse. If you are ever lucky enough to feast
on a canvas-back roasted as above, you will be apt to borrow a leaf
from Oliver Twist.

Venison steak should be pounded to tenderness, pressed and worked into
shape with the hunting-knife and broiled over a bed of clean hardwood
coals. A three-pronged birch fork makes the best broiler. For roast
venison, the best portion is the forward part of the saddle. Trim off
the flanky parts and ends of the ribs; split the backbone lengthwise,
that the inner surface may be well exposed; hang it by a strong cord or
bark string in a powerful, even heat; lay thin strips of pork along the
upper edge and turn from time to time until done. It had better be left
a little rare than overdone. Next to the saddle for roasting, comes the
shoulder. Peel this smoothly from the side, using the hunting knife;
trim neatly and cut off the leg at the knee; gash the thickest part of
the flesh and press shreds of pork into the gashes, with two or three
thin slices skewered to the upper part. Treat it in the roasting as
described above. It is not equal to the saddle when warm, but sliced
and eaten cold, is quite as good.

And do not despise the fretful porcupine; he is better than he looks.
If you happen on a healthy young specimen when you are needing meat,
give him a show before condemning him. Shoot him humanely in the head
and dress him. It is easily done; there are no quills on the belly and
the skin peels as freely as a rabbit's. Take him to camp, parboil him
for thirty minutes and roast or broil him to a rich brown over a bed of
glowing coals. He will need no pork to make him juicy, and you will
find him very like spring lamb, only better.

I do not accept the decision that ranks the little gray rabbit as a
hare, simply because he has a slit in his lip; at all events I shall
call him a rabbit for convenience, to distinguish him from his
longlegged cousin, who turns white in winter, never takes to a hole and
can keep ahead of hounds nearly all day, affording a game, musical
chase that is seldom out of hearing. He never by any chance has an
ounce of fat on him and is not very good eating. He can, however, be
worked into a good stew or a passable soup--provided he has not been
feeding on laurel. The rabbit is an a