Skinning a Squirrel

So it's no big secret that I don't field dress the deer I hunt. I don't do anything with them other than throw them in the back of my truck and drive them to the processor. I dressed the deer I got last year, well, more like I watch my brother in law dress it, but it's not something I really want to do. I just want to eat it the same way I eat a cow or chicken: I want to buy nondescript lumps of meat packaged on styrofoam trays wrapped in plastic then cook them up at home without ever having shared the intimacy of having removed any of its vital organs, especially it's skin personally (Yes skin is an organ, and I certainly consider it vital.)

On that happy note I got sick of watching squirrels eat all the deer corn while hunting this morning so I did something about it. I shot the closest squirrel I could, then I tried to shoot his friend / lover / rival. I missed the second one but I shot the first one in the face. The face. In the past I've discarded my victims because I have such an aversion to getting up close and personal with mushy things like dead squirrels, and because I convinced myself that I was conducting "pest control" rather than outright hunting. But I know better than that. I know that it isn't right to kill for the sake of killing so I decided that I must dress and eat this dead, mushy, semi-faceless squirrel.

I have a nice sharp knife on me, which up to this point has never pierced skin or bone, but has only felt it's blade glide through cardboard and packing tape, and since I have no idea how to use it to skin a squirrel I spent 10 minutes watching people with country accents so thick you can't possibly know what they're saying compete to skin squirrels in 45 seconds or less. Then my family shows up to see the bloody, mushy, faceless, formerly-living squirrel lying where I left it on the front step of the house I hunt at. They were passing by because I had forgotten to take my lunch this morning. My 4 year old seemed unaffected and somewhat fascinated by it. My 2 year old looking concerned pointed at it and repeatedly said something unintelligible for a few minutes. I can only image what profound observation she was making and what lessons I should have learned from it, if only she didn't talk like a 2 year old. They left and I proceeded to work for 4 hours while some little squirrel's dead mother lie stiff (but somehow still mushy) on the front stoop. I finally caved. It took me about 30 minutes to gut and skin it to my satisfaction. It was actually pretty easy, and now that it is mostly formless meat, I feel great about it. Except for the smell of death lingering on my fingertips (despite washing them repeatedly with dish soap) I'm no worse for wear. I also proved that I'm not a horrible, soul-less killing machine.