Daddy's a hunter. In our house hangs evidence of elk, moose, bear, caribou and deer. In our freezer it's much the same story. We eat Moose-a-dillas, strogan-elk, and various other versions of the standard family favourites. Wild meat is something that is consumed in our house on a semi-regular basis. I think there's something primal and satisfying in watching your family eat that which you have killed. When we first started dating, I was presented an offering of breast from a grouse that was just shot, and mushrooms that were picked that afternoon. It was a "chicken" stirfry to remember.
When people are coming to our house for the first time and ask for directions, I tell them the street name and then say, "It's the one with the moose rack in the carport. You can't miss it."
When we were preparing the nursery for the impending arrival of the little munchkin, we decorated the walls with teddy bear versions of sheep head mounts and bear skin rugs. In the stairwell hang the real things.
Which brings me to our little princess, who is starting to learn animal sounds. Her daddy used to tenderly pluck her from her crib after her nap, and walk her down the stairs, pointing at the animals and telling her their names. "That's a caribou. That's an elk."
For those of you who are not familiar with the sound of an elk bugling, I can only describe it as a shrill, throaty shriek. Perhaps it's not the sound you would expect to come from a beast as grand as the elk. It does, however, translate into a nice high pitched yell when imitated by a one-year-old girl.
While most North American kidlets start off with "Cow says Moo, Chicken says Bok Bok", our daughter will shriek on command when you ask her about her favourite animal... the elk.
She does a mean chicken too, but it's just not as impressive or original.
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