8 August

Flamingo Poaching

As a retired conservation officer, I’ve heard, witnessed and investigated a lot of poaching stories. Now that I’m retired, I don’t witness as many or investigate any but I definitely hear more stories. To tell you the truth, most poaching stories have become pretty mundane. It has become more of an act of wanton gluttony in a moment of opportunity than a planned event set to give a guy an edge or fill a freezer.

Real, old fashioned, cat and mouse planned poaching takes skill and is a lot of hard work. There is very little incentive to need to put that much time into it any more. People aren’t really interested in cleaning, storing and eating their legal limit of five trout; no less a hundred short trout caught in a day. It is cheaper and easier to go out and get a fillet with tarter at McDonalds.

Deer poaching still occurs and always will but it is usually just a tag game to get a bigger buck. Rattlesnake poaching does still happen and there is a commercial incentive for reptiles and amphibians but it is still spread out and a relatively rare percent of the population.

Rarely does a story about a snake killed or a buck taken have a plot worth following. Its all the same, some shmuck stumbled into a critter and used the opportunity to kill something he otherwise wouldn’t be able to. Outside of a kid innocently telling a story about his parent or, in one case grandmother whacking some hapless critter, there is little to interest a guy who’s heard a million of them. I found myself walking through a grey world of bad stories. Then, one day, I heard about a flamingo…

There I was, engaged in an innocent conversation about mining companies building conservation projects in the Caribbean islands. One such project happened to be a flamingo reserve. I innocently, asked, “What in the world is limiting the flamingo population?” I got a serious look and a serious answer, “People.”

I was shocked. One consistency with people and conservation is that killing pretty birds is a serious taboo. People protest the hunting of all kinds of pretty birds even doves and sky rats (geese). There are serious penalties and little remorse for the person that whacks a non-game species. Bluebirds, golden finches, cardinals, eagles, and osprey sit on their perches and wallow in human love and protection. There are opportunities out there to hunt pretty birds such as swans, which is a closely guarded secret although legal in places. People freak out over the thought of a colorful bird on the dinner table. There is also the unwritten notion, “If a bird is pretty, it must taste like a carp” -which is backed up by the known flavor of wood ducks. Also, if a bird “mates for life” then it is an eternal innocent soul mate bliss keeping it deservedly off the entre’ list. Even though science has documented there are miserable mated birds, divorced birds and cheating birds; it seems like mating for life comes with the whole package of protection regardless of the heart breakers among them.

I recoiled at the flamingo eating story and asked what kind of barbarian would eat a giant, pretty, PINK and likely heartbroken bird in paradise? To go even further, if it was tasty, the miracle of capitalism would have provided us with McMingo pink sandwiches for $1.99 with small fries and a Coke. Yet, I was assured that food is not as available in the rest of the world as it is in the United States AND that flamingos were absolutely delicious enough that no one wants a McRib where flamingos reside. Not to mention their true color is white, their diet in the right places produces the pretty pink feathered hue.

So, apparently, there is an underground market fed by ingenious hard-working poachers that infiltrate heavily defended, remote, sanctuaries to poach flamingos and put their meat on the market. Which is far more interesting and admirable than using grandma’s tag for an extra eight pointer.

In the interest of science and conservation, I had to travel to flamingo country. Where I quietly started a small investigation with the locals. I found them to be very tight lipped about it. I did notice that the flamingos seemed extra cautious and alert. When I inquired about a flamingo meal, I got sidelong glances and no answer. Eventually, after digging around enough I was able to glean that they are absolutely delicious and regarded as a holiday meal delicacy, kind of like our summer barbecues. A thirty-three-pound bird can feed a lot of guests. The Roman elites were fond of flamingo meat, particularly the tongue which was a delicacy, “Epicures regard my tongue as tasty. But what if my tongue could sing?” A quote from antiquity regarding the flavor of flamingo and the bias of man on birds.

After a flamingo is acquired and cleaned, it is usually braised and served with sauces. Reportedly, it has a strong flavor that I don’t think I would find as delicious as advertised. I’m not sure myself, I don’t like the idea of eating crow metaphorically or literally and I’m not sure I’d poach and eat a flamingo. What’s next? Poaching penguins?

See you along the stream