December, 1920 
FOREST AND STREAM 
647 
Iwii.'minp 
dried without anything having been put 
on the pelt. Never turn the skin to 
ship it, but send it with the skin side 
out. Every buyer will offer you a little 
better price for it in this way if it has 
been carefully skinned and no fat or 
flesh left on the pelt. 
HOW TO MAKE “JERKY” 
By J. H. Sheldon 
I N these days of the growing scarcity 
of wild life there is one phase of the 
preservation of game animals which 
to the writer’s knowledge has been 
somewhat overlooked. Preserve the life 
of the creature as well as possible but 
when it has been taken the next im- 
portant step is to preserve the meat or 
to make it possible to use every edible 
part of the animal. 
There is perhaps not a sportsman but 
who is acquainted with the term jerky, 
though I doubt if more than a few know 
how to prepare it, especially so as to 
make it palatable for the home table. 
Thousands of deer are killed every 
season and thousands of pounds of their 
carcasses are left in the woods to ap- 
pease the appetities of the carnivorous 
element or to rot, as the case may be. 
Usually the head is taken as a trophy, 
and a part of the animal is consumed 
in camp, perhaps one hind quarter and 
the tenderloins ; the rest is left for 
want of an available means of preserv- 
ing it until cold storage is reached. 
In most instances the game is found 
too far from a shipping point to make 
it convenient to bring home the entire 
carcass in a fresh state, hence the de- 
sirability of curing the excess meat in 
camp to eat at leisure during the winter 
months. To have venison out of season 
is a rare and unusual dish and a little 
time spent in camp will provide many 
enjoyable dinners at home. A baked 
jerky pot pie in January (when the law 
keeps our rifles at home) is a most sat- 
isfying and delicious treat; helps out on 
the H. C. L. and breaks the monotony 
of the tiring domestic varieties. 
Jerky is made in a number of ways. 
Some tribes of Indians cut the meat in 
strips and hang it from poles to dry in 
the sun; a method that serves the pur-‘ 
pose of the semi-civilized but as can be 
judged, not the most sanitary. It is 
subject to flies and other unwholesome 
elements of the air. 
The Apaches smoke it over a smolder- 
ing fire, and I have seen quantities of 
venison hanging over cedar poles cur 
ing in this manner. Some mountaineers 
sprinkle the strips with pepper to keep 
the flies from attacking the meat while 
in its fresh state, then hang it from the 
cross beams of their cabins, but like the 
crude method of the Utes, cleanliness 
is in ia measure disregarded, while a t 
the same time the pepper makes it too 
much of a Mexican dish to suit the 
tastes of the more fastidious. 
As a result of the foregoing and 
some other unsatisfactory methods of 
making jerky, which I have witnessed 
and practised, the following recipe is 
the most practical (and satisfactory one 
I have learned of ; gained by observance 
of the Apaches’ better way of curing 
meat in the wilderness: 
T HE construction of a green wood 
frame, as per diagram given, can 
be erected in a few minutes with- 
out nails or other hardware if neither 
is at hand. A spool of nickled wire is 
not essential, but makes the job easy 
and swift. The meat is cut in strips, av- 
eraging about eight inches long and one- 
inch thick; each piece is first rolled in 
a pan of salt — not rubbed in, but just 
sufficiently so as to cover the surface 
lightly. Place each piece of meat in a 
bucket or other convenient receptacle as 
salted; by the time the last piece is 
treated in this manner, a brine has 
formed with the contents so that each 
and every piece of meat is entirely fly- 
proof, as well as cured to the first de- 
gree of the process. A fire having been 
started under the frame so as to pro- 
duce a generous bed of coals covering 
the entire space within the frame is now 
ready to turn the fresh meat into jerky. 
String the meat on the wires (cut to 
fit the frame) and stretch across tight. 
When the meat has thus been placed 
the last procedure is to place a few green 
limbs of aspens or other deciduous trees 
on the hot coals. This will produce the 
required heat and smoke and if proper- 
ly cared for will not permit the blaze to 
mount higher than about 12 inches, 
which should be retained for about ten 
hours, according to atmospheric condi- 
tions. The cured meat can then be put 
into canvas bags or other convenient 
retainers. 
DIVING DUCK DECOY 
I N the November number of Forest 
and Stream, Mr. Martin rightly said 
in his excellent article entitled “To 
Lure the Cunning Wild-fowl” that ducks 
can very often be brought to stool by 
the life-like movements of one or two 
decoys. He suggests that a decoy be 
manipulated by a string in such a man- 
ner that it will appear to be swimming 
or diving. I would like to offer a sug- 
gestion as to the method of rigging the 
string: Attach one end of it to the 
neck of the decoy and run it through a 
pulley fastened about mid-way on the 
rope which leads from the body of the 
decoy to the anchor weight. By pulling 
Diving decoy duck 
on the other end of the string the head 
of the decoy will naturally bob down in 
the water in very life-like imitation of 
diving. 
On calm days when there is no wind 
to ruffle the water and cause the decoys 
to bob around, this method of impart- 
ing life to one or two of them will often 
be the means of luring ducks within 
gunshot when otherwise they would 
swing by without giving the set of de- 
coys a passing glance. 
At best, duck reasoning is very hard 
to understand. Every hunter has known 
days when it seemed that all the subtle 
arts of deception known to the wild- 
fowler would find no favor with the 
quarry and other days when the slight- 
est trick would bring a flock right up 
within easy range. Bayman. 
