You're so right, Eliza; preparing freshly killed birds and small game is a skill most city-dwellers never acquire -- and never want to.

A dear friend is so squeamish that she can't even bring herself to put her hand into the cavity of a supermarket turkey, and she's hardly unusual. I hate to think how such sensitive people would deal with the challenge of gently slitting the belly skin and identifying the various organs so as to avoid puncturing the gall bladder and intestines and thus contaminating the meat. Even skinning and jointing are tasks that require a rudimentary knowledge of anatomy and higher-order knife skills that are not typically found in people who prefer their meat to come in bite-sized pieces packaged in clingfilm and styrofoam.

I loves pheasants, I does, especially on a crouton with sautéed apples on the side.

Rabbits abound in Ottawa, and I frequently see them grazing on those grassy patches that lie within the cloverleaf turns of autoroute on- and off-ramps. That's good spot to see groundhogs (gophers) also. Early yesterday morning, I spotted a fox nipping across the on-ramp to the Queensway, heading for the grassy verge; clearly, I am not the only local observer of shy woodland creatures.