Cooking in the West

As summer changes into fall, the creatures get grouchy. Perhaps it is because they know winter is coming. The yellow jackets and hornets and even honey bees become aggressive. However, there is no creature on earth more irritating and detestable than a packrat. I believe it is because they mark everything, so they just ooze as they go, and they build a huge nest called a midden wherein you might find everything that has been missing in an outfitter camp for the last five years. They do not make good tent mates. When I arrived at the trailhead to go into Meadow Creek in the Scapegoat Wilderness to cook for the first week of early season rifle for the K Lazy 3 one early season hunt a few years back, it was a picture perfect Montana fall day. I did not think anything could dampen my mood until Brett Todd said, "Uh, I hate to tell you this, but there is an issue in the Meadow Creek Camp."

"No, don't tell her. We want the cook to be in a good mood," interrupted guide Guy Gravert. Apparently, camp cooks are notorious for being in foul moods.

Brett continued to break the news that the packer had noted on a hay run last week that the cook tent was being inhabited by a pack rat. My delightful mood evaporated as I began to picture the scene that awaited us. When I opened the tent flap, I was somewhat relieved, because I have seen worse messes. The rat had confined most of his nest to one corner and one side of the tent. He also made the mistake of showing himself, and the hunters dispatched him with some pieces of kindling and a shovel fairly quickly. I was breathing much easier knowing he was dead, and after a couple hours of disinfecting every surface and airing out the tent, my world was looking better.

Later that night, the guides killed another pack rat in the hay pile, and I began to wonder if pack rats traveled in packs. Up until now, I had believed they were fairly solitary animals. I was wishing I could Google pack rats to see if killing two of them should mean we were home free. I was soon to find out the answer to my question.

About 11:20 p.m., I heard some rustling in the tent. I prayed that it was a chipmunk, a mouse, or even a squirrel. By midnight, there was no doubt about it. There was another rat in the cook tent. It spent that night dragging all of the kindling and anything else it could drag back behind the pack box cupboards on the floor and hauling horse pellets out of the bags it had noisily gnawed into and packing the pellets across the tent floor to its nest. I decided that since I had to get up at 2:30 a.m. anyway, I would just lie there and listen to the rat. I turned on my light to try to establish a defendable space around my cot in case he came too close. The next morning the packer, Jerry Yoder, and one guide, Logan Brandt, made short work of my rat nuisance. Finally, we seemed rat free.

On the second to the last day of the hunt, Logan thought he saw a rat dart down the tent frame. In complete denial, I told him I was sure it was a squirrel. Just before daylight, but after all the rat killers had left for the field, I saw him. When the packer returned that evening, we pulled out the pack box cupboards, and tried to clear out options for nesting. We found no sign of the rat, so I hoped maybe he had decided to relocate.

That night, about 5 minutes after I turned out my lantern, the Pack Rat War of 2014 began. I felt something scamper across the foot of my outfitter bag. I gave a double barrel kick that launched the rat against the tent. The brazen rat shook himself and declared war. He began dragging my kindling behind the stove, scampering across the floor, gnawing on the water filter hose, and generally establishing a battle ground.

As I lay there contemplating my attack, I remembered that there was a long handled branch clipper under my cot. I waited for him to scurry behind the horse cake sacks in the nearest corner, and then I groped for my headlamp and the clippers. I raised the clippers high and turned on the head lamp. He saw me and scampered down the tent frame to my right. I took a swing at him and missed. I threw the clippers at him in desperation before realizing that all of this noise was probably keeping the whole camp awake.

We had two rat traps set, so I decided my next strategy would be to try to haze him over the traps. I would turn out my light, sit quietly on my cot, wait until I heard him rustling, and then try to shoo him over the traps. This did not work. There was a .44 under my cot, but fortunately I had enough sanity left to realize that spraying bullets in the dark in an occupied camp would likely result in an accidental death of one of the hunters or guides. I was out of ideas and really really tired.

In my rat war delirium I contemplated calling up Crazy Mountain Pest Control back home in Big Timber on the satellite phone. It was only 11:30 p.m., so perhaps Ron Thomas would still be awake. I was sure he could be enticed to get in his truck, drive 220 miles to the Copper Creek Trailhead, find a horse in the corral, ride in the 14 miles, and dispatch my rat posthaste. I would make sure he billed the hit to the K Lazy 3. Then I decided that was a bit extreme. Maybe I would dial up Ron to see if he knew of anyone in the Lincoln, Montana area that might come kill my mortal rat enemy for a moderate fee.

I had read somewhere that to defeat an enemy, you must know him. I decided to call the rat Harold. Every time I would hear Harold come too close to my cot, I would switch on my lamp and whisper, "Harold, you are a dead rat!"

The next morning, both Harold and I were sleepy but alive; however, I declared a victory and rode out of Meadow Creek. Harold WILL die though, because next week, he is going to experience warfarin resistant rat bait, the equivalent of a nuclear warhead in rat wars. It says on the package that it even kills Norway rats. That explains a lot, because I am pretty sure that Harold has to be Norwegian!

This week I would like to share a couple of my favorite hunting camp treats that you can make in a tent or in your own kitchen.

Velveeta Fudge:

12 oz. Velveeta

1 C. butter

6 squares unsweetened baking chocolate

2 T. light corn syrup

8 C. powdered sugar

1-1/2 C. chopped nuts (optional)

1 t. vanilla

Heat Velveeta, butter, chocolate, and corn syrup in the microwave. Microwave on high for about 2 minutes, stirring twice until melted and well blended. Add chocolate mixture in batches to sugar in a large bowl, beating with an electric mixer after each addition. Stir in nuts and vanilla. Pour into a greased 9x13" pan. Smooth and refrigerate until firm. Cut into squares.

Carol Metcalf's Simple Pie Crust:

1 1/2 C. flour

1/2 C. vegetable oil

1/2 t. salt

Mix and pat into a pie plate. Bake for 25 minutes at 350 degrees. Fill with fruit and filling (See below!)

Carol's Fruit Pie (Peach or Strawberry or Raspberry):

1 C. sugar

3 T. plus 2 t. cornstarch

1 1/2 C. water

3 to 4 T. Jell-o (peach or strawberry or raspberry to match the fresh fruit you are using)

Mix the sugar and cornstarch well. Whisk in the water. Cook over medium heat until thick. Cool. Slice a pie pan 3/4 full of either strawberries, raspberries, or peaches into a cooled crust (recipe above). Pour cooled gelatin mixture over fruit. Chill. Serve with real whipped cream on top!