Hunting season is upon us, and I don’t mean pheasants or deer. I’m talking about asparagus — spotting it in its natural environment, camouflaged in roadside ditches and grassy field driveways.
Asparagus hunting involves special wild game hunting instincts not utilized with big game or birds.
It requires an eagle eye and heightened peripheral vision in order to spot a single green stalk among tall green grass at 50 mph down a gravel road.
My husband is one such seasoned hunter, and every year he becomes more accomplished.
It used to be we were happy to find a few handfuls for a meal or two in the spring.
Now, the yields are measured in armfuls, and I joke that the cave-man is hunting and foraging for his family.
He owns it.
“I’ve been hunting and foraging again,” he says while delivering a pile of fresh, green stalks to the kitchen table.
We often share our bounty, but not with the other hunters and foragers in the neighborhood. That would take the fun out of the unspoken competition.
Saturday night, a neighbor (also a hunter) spotted our Blazer parked on the road shoulder while we were scouring the ditch.
“Finding any?” His voice came across the two-way radio.
“Some,” the husband said, piling an armload on the dash.
“Were there any by the church?”
The lilac shrubs at church conceal a gold mine frequented by local asparagus hunters, and it’s the source of un-Christian-like remarks when a stranger loots the patch.
“Only a couple,” the husband replied over the radio airwaves. “I think that patch is about done producing.”
Liar!
We scored an armload at the church 10 minutes prior.
“It was a couple … of armloads,” the husband smiled slyly.
That’s the other thing about asparagus hunting. Never reveal your secret patches and never encourage a stampede to a hot spot.
It was getting dark, and I suggested we head for home with our lucky catch.
“Are you kidding? We still have three more spots to check.”
To my untrained eye, the green grass and asparagus were one and the same as the sun sank over the horizon.
But the hunter and forager was in his element. A healthy new growth sprouted overnight in his favorite (secret) locations and we piled another armload on our catch of the day.
I sighed.
I’ll never tire of fresh asparagus, but we’ve been eating it at every meal — steamed, broiled, grilled, blanched and raw. It’s all good.
But this year, for the first time in my life, I experimented with preserving the produce.
If it’s any good, we’ll enjoy asparagus from a jar long after the patches go to seed.
And, if we can master that skill, maybe we can also grow our own asparagus patch in the back yard.
I planted a couple dozen ferny young plants this spring, and if there’s success, hunting and foraging season will simply be harvest season when the patch matures.
Meanwhile, the hunt (and the sport) carries on.