Enjoy a comedic tour through my passive, 15-year quest to find some fresh and free roadkill venison. I’d driven by plenty of candidates over the years, but there was always something problematic. Either the critter was too old, or next to a busy freeway, or my car was too full, or I didn’t have a knife.
Unexpectedly, during a morel and porcini mushroom hunt this past spring, the perfect carcass finally presented itself on a remote Mt. Hood logging road. Even though I’d been waiting for this moment for years, I really didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I was sporting white painter’s pants, a yuppie Gore-Tex jacket, and a knife designed to cut mushroom stems. Plus, I had two vegetarian pals in tow who’d only signed up for a fungus tour. But I knew this was as good as it was going to get.
In the end, it all kind of worked out.
An Oregon native who has always wanted to go feral, but got sucked into the digital revolution and never quite pulled it off.