Give it to my grandmother.
First game animal I ever killed on the wing, and she fried it up and made a meal around it because I was so proud. She fried rabbits that were more shot than meat, made batches of potpie from a few little squirrels I bagged. Helped me clean pheasants to take to my son's school when it was all she could do to stand at the sink.
She was an old farm girl who wouldn't eat game anymore because of all the times she had no choice but to eat it growing up during the depression. She was always genuinely excited for my kids hunting successes.
I lost her today. I hope you are all as lucky as I was to have someone like that in your life.
CHAZ
