As a child, I cooked up several ground hogs and
rabbits that were either killed completely by our dog or that we killed together. I used burning
straw to force groundhogs from their burrows and Peggy would kill them, usually with a vigorous shaking after grabbing the neck or head. She liked slow cooked ground hog and had no problem handing it over to me for processing. I killed two with my fire hardened wooden spear. Peggy sometimes showed up at the door with a dead rabbit. She didn't chew on these kills so I cooked them up.
Other members of the family were put off by this. I was put off by low grade food that my mom made which included freezer burnt and rancid meats. My hunting and gathering was borne of self preservation and protest. I knew about rabies and other diseases and always cooked everything well but I didn't wear gloves or take other precautions during processing. I haven't butchered a mamal since I was 13 when we moved to the
city. That will soon change.
On a few occasions , dad pronounced our supper as slop or swill. Several fights broke out over his comments on food quality and cooking skill. When he called a casserole a "hogs breakfast" the fight went on for hours. One pot cooking only works if all of the ingredients are fit to eat.