Carnivorous animals,--the terrible wild hunters of the forests and
deserts,--are themselves preyed upon by man.
The low Arabs do not object to the flesh of the hyena, although the
smell of the carcase is so rank and offensive, that even dogs leave it
with disgust, yet their own voracious kindred obligingly gobble them up.
Even that pestilential animal the pole-cat, or skunk, falls a prey to
the voracity of hungry men. When care is taken not to soil the carcase
with any of the strong smelling fluid exuded by the animal, the meat
is considered by the natives of North America to be excellent food.
They eat foxes in Italy, where they are sold dear, and thought fit for
the table of a cardinal. Mr. Kennedy, a recent voyager to the arctic
regions, speaks of the delicacy of a fox pie, which was pronounced
by competent authorities in his mess to be equal to rabbit; but then
he honestly admits, that there were others to whom it suggested
uncomfortable reminiscences of dead cats, and who generally preferred
the opposite side of the table, when the dish made its appearance.
This repugnance is even shared by the brute creation, for although
Esquimaux dogs may kill a fox, they will not eat him. This is the more
extraordinary, as they are the most voracious and dirty-feeding animals
known; nothing they can possibly get at being safe. Buffalo robes, seal
skins, their own harness, even boots, shoes, clothes, and dish cloths
are sure to be destroyed.
The prairie wolf is eaten by the Indians of North America. The flesh of
the sloth is devoured with great avidity by the natives of Demerara;
and that of the lion by the Hottentots, while a tribe of Arabs between
Tunis and Algeria, according to Blumenbach, live almost entirely upon
its flesh.
The natives of the Malay Peninsula eat the flesh of the tiger,
believing it to be a sovereign specific for all diseases, besides
imparting to him who partakes of it the courage and sagacity of the
animal.
Some people have ventured to eat the _cujuacura_ or American panther,
and say it is very delicate food; and the flesh of the wild cat of
Louisiana is said to be good to eat.
The flesh of the cougar or puma (_Felis concolor_), a fierce
carnivorous animal, is eaten in Central America, and is said to be
agreeable food. The injunction of St. Paul, ‘to eat what is set before
us, and ask no questions for conscience sake,’ would hardly be a
safe maxim in Central America, at an entertainment given ‘under the
greenwood tree’ by the ‘Ancient Foresters’ of Honduras. The sylvan
dainties would not be composed of precisely the same materials as a
_petit diné_ at the _Trois Frères_, or the _Café de Paris_.
Mr. Darwin, in his _Journal of a Naturalist_, tells us that ‘once at
supper, from something which was said, I was suddenly struck with
horror at thinking I was eating one of the favourite dishes of the
country, namely, a half formed calf, long before its proper time of
birth. It turned out to be puma; the meat is very white, and remarkably
like veal in taste. Dr. Shaw was laughed at for stating that the flesh
of the lion is in great esteem, having no small affinity with veal,
both in colour, taste, and flavour. Such certainly is the case with the
puma. The Gauchos differ in their opinion, whether the jaguar is good
eating, but are unanimous in saying that cat is excellent.’
Mr. Wallace, when travelling up the Amazon, writes--‘Several jaguars
were killed, as Mr. C-- pays about 8s. each for their skins. One day
we had some steaks at the table, and found the meat very white and
without any bad taste. It appears evident to me that the common idea
of the food of an animal determining the quality of its meat, is quite
erroneous. Domestic poultry and pigs are the most unclean animals in
their food, yet their flesh is most highly esteemed, while rats and
squirrels, which eat only vegetable food, are in general disrepute.
Carnivorous fish are not less delicate eating than herbivorous ones,
and there appears no reason why some carnivorous animals should not
furnish wholesome and palatable food.’
Bears’ paws were long reckoned a great delicacy in Germany, for some
authors tell us, that after being salted and smoked, they were reserved
for the tables of princes. In North America, bears’ flesh was formerly
considered equal to pork, the meat having a flavour between beef and
pork; and the young cubs were accounted the finest eating in the world.
Dr. Brooke, in his _Natural History_, adds--‘Most of the planters
prefer bears’ flesh to beef, veal, pork, and mutton. The fat is as
white as snow, and extremely sweet and wholesome, for if a man drinks a
quart of it at a time, when melted, it will never rise on his stomach!
It is of very great use for the frying of fish and other things, and is
greatly preferred to butter.’
Tastes have naturally altered since this was written, nearly a century
ago, and it would be somewhat difficult to carry on the sport of bear
hunting on the extensive scale then practised, when we are told 500
bears were killed in two of the counties in Virginia in one winter.
The Indians seem to have shared largely in the sport and spoils of the
chase, for at their subsequent feast, the largest bear was served up as
the first course, and they ‘roasted him whole, entrails, skin and all,
in the same manner as they would barbecue a hog.’
As the paws of the bear were held to be the most delicious morsels
about him, so the head was thought to be the worst, and always thrown
away; but the tongue and hams are still in repute.
The white bear is eaten by the Esquimaux and the Danes of Greenland;
and when young, and cooked after the manner of beef steaks, is by no
means to be despised, although rather insipid; the fat, however, ought
to be avoided, as unpleasant to the palate.
The flesh of the badger (_Taxus vulgaris_, Desm.) is said to be good
eating, and to taste like that of a boar. The omnivorous and thrifty
Chinese eat it, as indeed they do that of the flesh of most animals,
and consider its hams a very great dainty.
Many nations consider the flesh of the dog excellent. The Greeks ate
it; and Hippocrates was convinced that it was a light and wholesome
food. The common people of Rome also ate it. The Turks and some of the
Asiatic citizens would thank any one who would rid the thoroughfares of
the tribes of dogs which infest the streets and courts; and there is
a reward given for their slaughter. Fine feasts might be made of them
by those who liked them, while the skins would come in for dog-skin
gloves. Many of the South Sea islanders fatten dogs for eating, but
these live wholly on vegetable food.
The domestic dog of China is uniformly one variety, about the size of
a moderate spaniel, of a pale yellow, and occasionally a black colour,
with coarse bristly hair on the back, sharp upright ears, and peaked
head, not unlike a fox’s, with a tail curled over the rump.
In China, the dog is fattened for the table, and the flesh of dogs is
as much liked by them as mutton is by us; being exposed for sale by
their butchers, and in their cook-shops.
At Canton, the hind quarters of dogs are seen hanging up in the most
prominent parts of the shops exposed for sale. They are considered by
the Chinese as a most dainty food, and are consumed by both rich and
poor.
The breeds common in that country are apparently peculiar to itself,
and they are objects of more attention to their owners than elsewhere
in Asia. The Celestials, perhaps, having an eye to their tender
haunches, which bad treatment would toughen and spoil.[5]
The Africans of Zanzibar hold a stew of puppies, as amongst us in the
days of Charles the Second, as a dish fit for a monarch.
The Australian native dog or dingo, in aspect and colour resembling a
fox, is hunted down by the colonists owing to its depredations among
the flocks. The flesh even of this animal is eaten by the blacks. The
aborigines are often driven for subsistence to the most wretched food,
as snakes and other reptiles, grubs, lizards, and the larvæ of the
white ant. When they do obtain better food, they prepare it with more
care than might be expected. In cooking fish, they wrap it in soft bark
and place it in hot ashes. By this process an acid from the bark is
communicated to the fish, which gives it a most agreeable flavour.
A traveller in the Sandwich Islands, relating his experience,
says,--‘Near every place at table was a fine young dog, the flesh of
which was declared to be excellent by all who partook of it. To my
palate its taste was what I can imagine would result from mingling the
flavour of pig and lamb; and I did not hesitate to make my dinner of
it, in spite of some qualms at the first mouthful. I must confess, when
I reflected that the puppy now trussed up before us, might have been
the affectionate and frolicsome companion of some Hawaiian fair--they
all have pet pigs or puppies--I felt as if dog-eating were only a low
grade of cannibalism. What eat poor Ponto?--
‘The poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend;
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own;
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone.
Unhonoured falls, unnoticed all his worth--
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth.’
‘However, the edible dog is not one of your common curs, but a dainty
animal, fed exclusively on vegetables, chiefly taro (a root), in the
form of poë (dough), and at the age of two years is considered a dish
wherewith to regale royalty. Indeed, the Sandwich Island monarch, I
suspect, would be always well satisfied to see it before him, in spite
of the assertion of Dr. Kidd, that ‘it is worthy of consideration that
the flesh of those animals, of whose living services we stand hourly
in need, as the _horse_ and the _dog_, are so unpalatable, that we are
not tempted to eat them unless in cases of dreadful necessity.’ The
doctor probably never assisted at a native luaü or feast, or associated
with the trappers upon the prairies of the Far West.’[6]
Mr. John Dunn, in his _History of the Oregon Territory_, tells a story
of a Canadian cook, who, wishing to do honour to a dear and respected
friend, whom he had been dining with on board his ship, studied long
what he could get good enough to set before him, and at last bethought
him of dog, which is, or was, a favourite dish among Canadian voyageurs
or boatmen.
At the banquet the old boatswain ate heartily of it, as did the cook.
After he had done, the cook enquired how he had enjoyed his dinner. He
said it was beautiful. He then asked him whether he knew what he had
been dining on? He said he supposed from a goat.
‘Yes,’ says the cook, ‘you have been eating from a goat with von long
tail, that don’t like grass or heather.’
‘How is that?’ inquired the boatswain.
‘Vy you see,’ replied the cook, ‘it was my best dog you have dined
from.’
The old boatswain stormed and swore; and then ran as fast as possible
to the vessel to get a little rum for his stomach. He vowed that he
never again wished to dine with a Canadian cook, or eat pet dogs.
Brooke, in his _Natural History of Quadrupeds_, tells us, that ‘in the
southern coast of Africa, there are dogs that neither bark nor bite
like ours, and they are of all kinds of colours. Their flesh is eaten
by the negroes, who are very fond of all sorts of dogs’ flesh, and
will give one of their country cows for a large mastiff. I do not know
what part of Africa this refers to.
In old medical works we are told, that the flesh of a fox, either
boiled or roasted, was said to be good for consumption; but I do not
think it is often prescribed or used for that purpose now.