Granny’s mean pot of bushmeat stew

Grannies
Left to right, Granny Beck, my Grandma June, and Great-Great Grandma Bertha, circa 1961. Who knows what was on the menu that day.

My Great-Grandpa and Granny Beck were, in some ways, ahead of their time. My Grandpa’s mom and step-dad, they both went through scandalous divorces and then switched partners with another couple, Granny Orpha marrying Wade and my Grandpa’s dad Lee marrying Wade’s ex-wife, Edna. Orpha and Wade raised 5 of Orpha’s boys together, and had a daughter after the divorce/remarriage.

By the time I was born, my Granny Beck was in her 80s, and I have only vague recollections of going over to visit her at her home. But I remember hearing about her cooking. I was a picky eater anyway, and my mom once told me she was always afraid to eat Granny Beck’s stew, because it could be rabbit, it could be ‘possum, it could be squirrel, it could be groundhog…you just never knew. I never ate anything over there.

Grandpa Beck used to have coon dogs, and would bring home anything that the dogs would catch. My great-aunt affirmed my mom’s recollection of Granny Beck’s cooking (and Grandpa Beck’s eating):

My mom did cook some pretty weird things. We always had wild game such as rabbit and pheasant, but I do remember when she cooked a raccoon (I didn’t try it!). My dad was the one that would eat anything, and I do mean anything! We used to bring him such things as chocolate covered ants, pickled pigs feet, and pickled rooster combs. He loved them!

Over the weekend, my neighbor sent along some meat packages for us. He had recently gotten back from another hunt and bagged his third deer of the season (you’re allowed four per year in my county). He was grilling when my partner stopped over on the way home, and sent some ground deer (I think–I’ve not opened the package yet), deer steaks, and a still-warm hunk of a deer heart, well done.

Deer assortment
Various deer parts brought over by my neighbor this weekend.

 

All of this is to say that we can eat some really weird things here in the “civilized,” first-world, developed United States.

Why bring this up now? The current Ebola outbreak has brought out all kinds of biased to outright racist views of Africa and disease. Because it’s postulated that the outbreak started with the consumption of or contact with an infected animal—possibly a fruit bat, which the index family noted they do hunt—people have come out of the woodwork to pontificate on how those in Guinea and other countries “brought this on themselves” because of their consumption of “bushmeat,” and that they’re so uneducated and backwards to eat that in the first place–because really, how could people eat that stuff, especially when it could be diseased?

Prominent magazines run pictures of butchered meat and primates with headlines that are intended to scare and “other.”

People judge harshly, partly because of bush meat consumption:

“Is it time that we drag ignorant, superstitious third world Africans kicking and screaming into the 21st century or should we stop giving aid to Africa and let them fend for themselves? Would the later propel the former?”

Even though we do the same. damn. thing. in the United States.

“Bushmeat” is the name given to pretty much any kind of wild game hunted in Africa–bats (obviously a concern given their possible role in Ebola spread and maintenance of the virus); primates; birds, duikers, lizards, crocodile, various rodents, even elephant, and more.

What do we call “bushmeat” in the US? Or just about everywhere else?

Just “wild game,” or some variation thereof.

In the U.S., we hunt thousands of deer, elk, pheasant, turkey, rabbit, and other animals every year. There are even wild game restaurants that cater to those tastes (though many “wild game” species are actually farmed to some degree). Yet even the bushmeat page at United States’ Fish and Wildlife Service ignores the hunting that goes on in the United States, noting that:

Here in the United States, we have laws that control the preparation, consumption, and trade of meat, ensuring that animals are treated appropriately, kept healthy, and sold legally. This is not the case in some countries in Africa and other parts of the world.

This seems to refer mostly to domestically-raised meats, as it’s much harder to police the treatment, health, and sale of hunted animals. Though one needs a license to hunt many animals and generally to fish, laws vary from state to state. Here in Ohio, though a hunting license or permit needs to be obtained for most types of hunting or trapping, and there may be limits on the number of animals of certain species one can kill per season (such as deer and turkey), for most animals, there’s merely a daily limit (6 squirrels, 4 rabbits, etc. per day). For other animals, including fox, raccoon, skunk, opossum, weasel, crow, groundhog, and coyote, there is no daily bag limit. So one could, conceivably, feed themselves fairly well on just a diet of wild game if they had the time and inclination to do so.

Of course, most people in the U.S. don’t get our food this way. We look at Daryl Dixon of the Walking Dead and his squirrel-hunting prowess as something that could carry one through the zombie apocalypse, but not school lunches for a family of 4. We think it’s awesome when he finds an opossum in a cupboard and proclaims, “Dinner!” I’m sure many readers have plans for their own apocalypse survival plan, which likely involve some kind of wild source for food.

But in modern-day Africa, such hunting is somehow “barbaric” and “backward,” regardless of whether it is for sustenance or trade.

Though Ebola has not been identified in wild animals in the US, our animals are far from disease-free. No wild (or domesticated) animal is. We certainly can find Tularemia and Pasturella in rabbits; deer can carry tuberculosis, Brucella, Hepatitis E, and maintain transmission of Lyme disease and potentially Erlichia. Other zoonotic pathogens that could be acquired from a variety of wild animals include Campylobacter, E. coli, plague (mainly in the Southwestern United States); Cryptosporidia, Giardia, avian influenza from waterfowl, rabies (more likely from handling than ingestion); hantavirus, Trichinella, Leptospira, Salmonella, Histoplasma, and I’m sure many more from handling or consumption of wild animals.

Finally, while people malign “bushmeat” hunters in Africa, let’s not forget that almost any source of food can be contaminated with potential pathogens. Even in the United States, 1 in 6 Americans (48 million people) get sick, 128,000 are hospitalized, and 3,000 die of foodborne diseases. Every year. And that’s with our “high standards” for animal husbandry and processing.

So perhaps rather than looking to countries in Africa and judging their food consumption habits as they relate to infection, we should turn a mirror to our own. If we don’t judge Granny Beck for her wild game consumption, neither should we judge those a continent away.

Additional readings

The long and ugly tradition of treating Africa as a dirty, diseased place

If you can’t be a good example, be a warning. How EcoInternet’s #Scicomm #Fail can make you a more culturally aware science communicator

 American Bushmeat

Climate change and public health

I rarely write about climate change. As much as it’s been hashed out amongst climate scientists, and even many of the former “climate skeptics” have now changed their tune, I readily accept that climate change is happening, and is happening largely due to human activities. More importantly for my field, climate change is also having effects on human health in a number of different ways, from the movement of insect vectors into new areas, to warming of the seas leading to more extreme weather conditions, to the loss of coral reefs and the freshwater that these reefs protect from the surrounding oceans. It’s an immense field, and it seems that every time I turn around, another paper is published detailing the public health effects of climate change.

Luckily for me, many of these examples have been carefully documented in a recent book by Paul Epstein and Dan Ferber, Changing Planet, Changing Health. Epstein was a maverick in this field, trained as a physician who had carried out global health research in several African countries. In his previous position helping to run the Center for Health and the Global Environment at Harvard, he led research into a variety of areas in tropical medicine, including the role of climate in disease epidemiology. Unfortunately, as I was finishing up this book last night, the New York Times reported that Dr. Epstein passed away at the age of 67. This is a huge loss to the field, but work in this area will certainly continue, and we’re likely to only see more connections between disease and global warming in the coming years and validation of his passions and ideas.

“Changing Planet, Changing Health” is deceptively expansive. It’s a mere 300 pages before notes and index, but it takes you on a journey investigating the movement of mosquitoes in Africa, cyanide in Honduras, soybean rust in Illinois, pine beetles in Colorado, and even flooding in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. And yet, the book never felt disconnected to me–Epstein & Ferber manage to draw the myriad climate-associated threads together into a well-woven tapestry, and fluidly move from one topic to another. They also discuss what needs to be done to curb this destruction in the last chapter.

Of course, the last chapter is also one of the toughest. While climate change is harming our health in a thousand different ways every day, there’s still denial in many circles that it’s even happening, and none of the solutions to curb it are easy. Furthermore, too many people still see it as “just a polar bear problem” rather than something that actually makes a difference in their lives. This needs to change. Epstein and Ferber succeed in making climate change personal: something everyone who eats and breathes should be concerned about.