I was visiting a village up in Manitoba, close to The Pas. It was during the Trappers Festival and they were putting on a wild game feed. I went down the line turning nothing down, making sure no animal felt that I was prejudiced against it. When I got to the end of the line there was an Aboriginal Canadian about 6'4" tall, 111 lbs, and three teeth...no two meshed together.
He had a huge cast iron kettle he was stirring and he pulled up a ladle and said with glee, "Rat soup!" I stuck out a bowl. He repeated, "RAT soup." I pushed the bowl closer to him and he lost a bit of his smile as he said, "Aw, it's just muskrat."
Since then I have failed to turn down anything. Rattler, dog, smoked porcupine, smoked squirrel, snails, french toast made with ostrich egg and the rest of the egg scrambled on the side, buffalo tongue-kidneys-sweetbreads, and endless pots of stuff my friend Jerry just labels as "Meat?".
Once we were visiting this same subject around the campfire at a Rendezvous. A young feller about 14 was wide eyed as folks traded their favorite recipes for beaver, finally he could hold out no longer. He blurted out, "Someday I am gonna eat a beaver!" I patted him fondly on the shoulder and said softly, "You will, son, someday you will."