Muskrat Tail - Donovans Boreal Forest Buffet

Happily headed to the next great food adventure, I’m somewhere between Behchokǫ̀ and Yellowknife on a tree-lined trail through the bush looking for lunch. Had I arrived on time, I wouldn’t have missed the man I was meant to meet, local Dene Thá First Nations Donovan Boucher. 

Instead, I find myself alone, staring down 100 feet of swamp water from the seat of the Honda. Suddenly, I’m engulfed by a few thousand of the N.W.T. fearless backwoods mosquitoes who had been alerted to fresh blood on the trail, and like a pack of hungry wolves came rushing towards every piece of exposed skin on my body. When I stopped, I left my helmet on with the visor down to keep them off my face; once I started huffing and puffing trying to look for a way through the swamp on foot, the visor began to fog up, impeding my vision. Instead, I decided to tie my handkerchief around my head to prevent the mosquitoes from going in my ears and breathe through my nose to keep from choking on these mini merchants of death.

---

Donovans' family has a deep connection to the Chipewyan/Dene people here as well as a connection to the Canadian Métis from the prairies. His great-grandfather was part of the North-West Rebellion, aka the Riel Rebellion whose armed uprising against the Canadian government in 1885 was meant to establish Métis peoples’ personal and land rights as well as protect their existence as a distinct people. This battle eventually led to the controversial end of Louis Riel by hanging. Another memorable divide in Canadian ethnic groups that is still felt to this day. 

At the moment I was having my own historic battle. Under attack by the relentless group of hungry N.W.T. militant mosquitoes while on my search for food somewhere inside of a teepee hidden in these woods. After negotiating several previous swampy sections by teetering on fallen trees with a long stick in my hand to detect the water depth before attempting to cross on Goose, my little 250cc, this section was considerably longer and deeper than the other passes.  I eventually succumbed to the fact I would not be going any further by motorbike and opted to start yelling Donovans' name toward the heavens in hopes of a rescue. Twenty minutes later my prayers were answered and lumbering across the swap towards me came Donovan in an eight-wheeled Argo, a machine considerably better adapted for this particular environment.

Today’s event was the equivalent of a reservation for one at the most incredible Chefs' table for northern dining. A small part of my heart warms when I think of restaurant reviews I’ve read where someone has complained they had to wait twenty minutes for a table!

With Donovan's rescue arrival, I grabbed my camera gear, abandoned the bike and we crawled off into the forest towards his camp. It quickly became apparent that even if I had managed to make it through that last section of swamp water, which I never would have, there was longer and deeper muskeg awaiting me. 

Eventually, the trees opened up, and perched on a hint of high ground atop the rocky Canadian Shield is Donovan’s camp. On one side; an eloquent canvas trapper's tent whose skeleton is strapped together from long lodgepoles, with a chimney protruding from the top like a telescope on a submarine and several sets of snowshoes still out from the recently departed winter. On the other side, the stunning teepee I’d been searching for.

It dawns on me that I’m at the center of a history lesson. To my right the canvas tent of white prospectors who’d come here searching for gold and land. To my left, arrow-straight lodgepoles stretched high up to the sky. The backbone of the teepee, the Dene, and many of those who had been here long before it was called Canada. Staring back at me; the man in the middle with a Métis last name, Mr. Boucher. A curious smile creeps across my face. I wonder if he planned this juxtaposition…

Inside the tent, Donovan quickly rolls up a strip of birch bark and sets it alight under a small pile of dried timber. The bark ignites like gasoline and soon the wood starts to crackle. A bit exciting, knowing that soon the smoke will fend off the mosquitoes and the fire will cook lunch. A bit concerning knowing we are surrounded by dry timber and gasoline-like birch bark. If a fire ever made its way through here, there would be little to slow it down.

 Before coming, I had asked Donovan to show me how to cook something significant to him and his way of life. I thought we might enjoy a fish he’d caught or a bird he’d shot, something along those lines. What I hadn’t accounted for was the wide number of foods unique to this area and his interest in showing me as many as would fit on one grill.

Out comes two coolers and a backpack. The first item to hit the table was a dried trout. Open like a book, cut with a series of lines to help aid the drying process. Next, a spruce grouse, a member of the ptarmigan family, still warm from its recent harvest. 

Donovan instantly gets to work fixing the bird for lunch. He peels back the feathers from the skin like opening a warm bread roll fresh from the oven exposing two bright purple breasts. I can’t believe how easily the feathers are separated from the meat. Next, a skinning knife is used to divide the meat from the bone and a few moments later we have two breasts, two thighs, and one heart, ready for the fire. Donovan explains they try to use everything on every animal and what is left gets returned to the land. In the case of the spruce grouse, it's typically set out to freeze, head up to look like a live bird. This frozen carcass is then used for bait in lynx, wolverine, and most winter traps.

The bird's tail can be cut off and used for decoration. The wings can be dried, spread open, and used as a fan. However, he does mention that the impressive span of goose wings makes a much better fan. Donovan says as kids, they found other aspects of the bird to utilize as well. First, they would remove a pouch in the grouse neck called a crop and blow it up like a balloon, typically inside there would still be the spruce needles it had as its lunch. The crop was then left to dry. Once dry it was used like a whoopee cushion, providing some comic relief each time someone sat on the exploding stomach!

The grouse meat is set inside a closed grill over the fire and out comes the next surprise, caribou ribs. I've never seen a rack of caribou ribs in my life, they are massive, the size of half my torso! A mix of bright and deep red meat with bits of fur still scattered about for authenticity. Apparently, keeping the fur off the meat when skinning the animal is quite tricky and Donovan needs to run a fork across the rib while cooking to remove what fur is still stuck to it. 

Caribou in this area are, at the time of writing, listed as threatened species, though still legally hunted. Various ideas and management strategies are practiced with the hopes of eventually bringing up their numbers. Donovan mentions that he personally doesn’t hunt them, and this rack was provided by his brother. 

He first splits the ribs in two with the skinning knife as the bone and cartilage crack apart. He then rests the ribs over a low flame to allow them to cook as long as possible. For me, what's better than a rack of ribs? For Donovan, he explains it's the heart that those with a taste for this Canadian reindeer love the most. Even his young daughter Avianna, when given a choice of cuts, always asks for grilled strips of heart.

By now the fire has a perfect low flame and the grill is a nice mix of bird breasts and reindeer ribs. This is more of an experience than I could have imagined, but I was about to learn this was only half of the protein buffet. Another cooler opens and inside is not one, not two, but FOUR fury muskrats! Feet up, and face back with four tiny tails protruding in every direction like a broken compass. 

I’m not sure if I swore with excitement or surprise, but hot damn, I’d never seen a cooler of fully intact muskrats or a cooler of any kind of lunch rats for that matter. Donovan makes a few cut marks around the leg of the rat and slices from the thigh to the rump. Grabbing each side of the fur he slowly pulls and peels it back from the skin until the muskrat looks naked sitting next to a tiny fur coat. 

If you’re put off by the harvest of today's dinner, you might want to take a moment before picking up your next perfectly packaged chicken breast to consider what steps were taken between the family farm and the family dinner table. Unless you’re eating 3D-printed meat, it arrived on your plate in a similar fashion.
 
During the “fixing” process, he points to a scar on his hand noting that muskrats have really sharp teeth and that this scar was from a muskrat bite. Not only good for creating wounds, muskrats are good for fixing wounds too. Donovan tells me that he learned from his father that you can take spruce gum (pine sap), put it into a cut, and then stuff it with muskrat fur. The combination will stop the blood and bind the wound. As it heals, the fur and sap are pushed from the skin…wow!

From here, the carcass makes its way to the fire held by the tail. For some reason or another, Donovan has added an extra tail to the grill as well. The tail falls limp like a wet noodle across the grate and curls slightly as it cooks. Everything is then sprinkled with Back Eddy’s Seasoning Salt, something I would soon learn to associate with the ubiquitous seasoning of the North.

At this stage, lunch is starting to look like a Brazilian Churrascaria, with grouse breasts on the grill, a rack of caribou ribs taking up another side of the metal grate, muskrat corpses, and twin tails spread across the center while sticks wrapped in bannock settle in the smoke above. There was an attempt to cook some baked potatoes, but with so much focus on the meats, that idea more or less went up in smoke.

First from the grill is the grouse breast; it comes off with perfect diamond grill marks reflective of any high-end steakhouse. The meat is tender and the flavour is light and smokey. A nice starting appetizer from the Boreal Forest Buffet. Next, the bannock comes off by lightly pulling it from the stick while turning it at the same time. The bannock, his Granny’s recipe, is warm and fluffy. The hearty carbohydrates are a nice accompaniment to the meats.   

Looking at the grill, the fatty cartilage of the tails has begun to bubble slightly, resembling long, chubby green beans on the vine. The muskrat then comes off the grill and Donovan divides it into tiny hind and front quarters leaving the tails to the side. As the guest of honor, he offers me the heart to try and I pop this little muscle the size of a thumbnail into my mouth. It tastes like, umm, well, I have no idea what it tastes like, muskrat heart I suppose.

    We each grab a wee rib cage and go about negotiating bits of meat from the bone. It too doesn’t register with anything I’ve eaten before. The best comparison that comes to mind is the dry, dark bits of turkey leg often stuck to the edge of the roasting pan on Christmas day. The ones you need to peel from the pan before washing it. A feeble attempt at a flavor comparison, but it will give you something to go on until you find yourself with muskrat rib in hand.

Seeking to make everything that looks alike taste alike, I ask if muskrat and beaver are similar in flavor? Donovan politely says no and I’m sure he thinks I’ve never eaten anything that didn’t come with a barcode on it. He explains that for the beaver it depends highly on where the animals live and what they are eating. For example; a beaver living in poplar tree country has a very strong and distinct flavor. These poplar beavers go well with yellow mustard. One that lives in birch tree country isn’t nearly as strong and doesn't require the mustard but it’s still a nice accompaniment. If there is one condiment accompaniment suggestion I’ll never forget, it's that beaver goes well with yellow mustard! 

Today’s lunch is far from finished, I can still see the twin tails staring back at me, the pièce de résistance if you will. At this point, I am well aware these are not decorative garnishes soon to be returned to the woods. I laugh and tell Donovan that I am a bit apprehensive about the consumption of muskrat tail, but I was here for the experience and he has certainly overdelivered.

 A muskrat's tail is covered in scales, not fur. You need to scrape these crispy cooked scales off before eating the fatty bit below. To do this, you take the edge of a knife and gently scrape the blackened scales from the rest of the tail. I watch Donovan use his skinning knife to delicately remove the charred scaly bits revealing a glistening, pale white mix of cartilage and fat. 

My attempt to mimic his well-honed scraping skills results in chunks of scales and fat being torn away. Mine looks like the muskrat tail homage to those “Nailed It” cooking memes depicting a perfectly executed birthday cake next to the lump of chocolatey goo topped with a candle, that is my muskrat tail. Donovan explains that before things like grocery stores and protein bars, the people here needed to ingest as many calories as they could, especially during the winter months. Something like the muskrat tail was an excellent caloric addition to the small amount of lean meat found on the rest of the carcass.

I sink my teeth into a mix of fatty tail and burnt scales. It’s not amazing, it's not terrible, it just is. The flavor is gristly and reminds me of the fatty bit of a pork loin that's been cooked to a crispy state, muskrat chicharrón if you will. Aside from the self-inflicted bits of toasted scale (I am well aware are now stuck in my teeth), having the rest of the tail in my mouth wasn’t as shocking as I had been fearing. 

In between courses, we share bites of bannock and Donovan tells me that as the youngest child in the family, he was typically left back with his mother, with whom he credits for his interest in cooking. I too was the youngest in the family and maybe that's where I developed an interest in food. The main difference in our education is likely that while he was learning about muskrat, I was learning about muffins. 

Last, and somewhere between the ninety-minute and two-hour mark, a slow-roasted rack of ribs that had been sizzling in Back Eddy’s seasoning were ready to come off the grill. From the Boreal Forest Buffet, I could not imagine a better finale than this unique rack of ribs. As the smoke wound its way to the top of the teepee, we sat enjoying every last morsel from the bones of one of the most majestic animals in the country.

 I’d come looking for some simple insights into life in the North and was given an open-door experience a thousand times better than I could have imagined. Maybe food was the missing piece of the historical puzzle in a nation still simmering in ethnic division. I wonder how many White gold miners were invited from their tents into the teepees of their First Nations friends for a meal so many years ago; when two cultures intertwined and a whole new culture and people were created. I wonder how many edible ethnic barriers had been crossed to get us to the point where I would find myself with Mr. Boucher between a tent and a teepee. Thank you Donovan for welcoming me with an amazing day of food, conversation, culture, and learning, not soon to be forgotten.

Months later, as the summer fires of 2023 ravaged Canadian forests from coast to coast, I reached out to Donovan fearing the worst for his camp deep in the dry timber forest. In August Yellowknife and surrounding areas had been evacuated as fires swept across the territories. Though the forest around the camp had burnt, Donovan and his uncle were able to get the tent and teepee out ahead of time, and fire crews had set up sprinkler systems to save some cabins he had here. It will take years for the forest to rebound.

Recipe:
     The base for the entire buffet is the fire. You’ll need a controlled flame that isn’t too hot and isn’t too high. One of the best ways to cook over an open fire is with coals. If you can maintain a low flame or hot coals you can execute an excellent campfire-cooked meal.

Muskrat:

• 1 Muskrat
  
• Back Eddy’s seasoning
  
• Locate a muskrat from your local marsh. Harvest and clean them until you have only the carcass and tail remaining. Cook over low heat while sprinkling with Back Eddy’s for approximately 20-30 minutes. As the tail cooks it will bubble. Scrape scales from the tail before consuming. Enjoy! 
  

Caribou Ribs:
    -1 or more racks of caribou ribs
    -Back Eddy’s seasoning
    -Ask Santa where he keeps his reindeer in the off-season and acquire a rack of ribs. Cook the ribs over the lowest heat possible for 1-3 hours depending on size. Clean the hair off as you cook. Lightly sprinkle with Back Eddy's seasoning or something similar like seasoning salt several times as they cook. For overachievers, you can boil the ribs first with seasoning for an hour to make them more tender. Rotate every 20-30 minutes until cooked. You will notice blood exiting the end of the rib as they are cooking.


Spruce Grouse:
    -A fresh 1 - 1 1/2lb Spruce Grouse 
    -5 shakes of Back Eddy’s
    -Separate the breasts from the bird along with the heart. Sprinkle with Back Eddy's seasoning or similar seasoning salt and cook over low heat for 8-15 minutes depending on the flame and size of the meat. 

Dried Trout:
    -1 Trout
    -Clean trout leaving the fillets on the skin and attached at the back with tail on. Cut slices about halfway into the meat. Hang open to dry for 3-4 days. Or smoke until dry, which will take approximately one full day.