Field mouse hunting season

(Baonghean) - Autumn touches the recesses of my heart with a gentle, familiar breeze, still retaining the rich, earthy scent of alluvial soil blended with the damp smell of straw left over from the harvest. This season in my hometown, perhaps the children are excitedly calling out to each other, grabbing hoes to dig for rats in the distant rice fields... Memories suddenly return to those incredibly peaceful childhood years...

Illustrative image

After the harvest season is when field mice are fattest. In the small mounds of earth, mice live in colonies. Among us children with our three-bun hairstyles, everyone was excited to go mouse hunting. It wasn't just a "job," but also a fun game... Actually, none of my friends wanted me along, because besides cheering everyone on, I couldn't do anything useful. I was terrified of mice. To make up for it, my older brother was the "leader" of the group, and also the best mouse catcher in the village. So every afternoon, even though some kids always stared at me with unfriendly eyes, I would confidently grab my sandals and run to the fields to trap mice. The feeling of joy from that childhood full of memories is hard to put into words.

Hunting field mice involved many steps requiring each child to be agile, flexible, and especially to have a sound "strategy." First, my older brother would search through the weeds, looking for traces of the mice. He said he could tell the size of the mice by looking at the worn-out footprints outside their burrows. Then, he would have one of the children use a pickaxe to widen the burrow opening, and then place a bamboo trap securely in the middle. Next, when my brother found an additional side tunnel connecting to the main burrow, the mischievous children would bring back a bucket full of water and pour it in. Upon encountering the water, the mice would scramble to escape, unaware that a bamboo trap was waiting for them at the main entrance. And in the end, they would fall into the trap. In the late afternoon, as the sun gradually set behind the hazy blue mountains, some children would carry bamboo baskets, others would shoulder iron hoes, and a few more would huddle together, carrying a cage full of rats, returning home filled with indescribable joy, excitement, and elation.

Back home, my brother would divide the fat rats equally among the group members in the fairest way possible. Holding the "spoils of war" after a hard afternoon's work, everyone's faces were covered in muddy smiles. While my brother and his friends were excitedly discussing their plans for the next afternoon, I quickly ran to the back of the house, grabbed a bundle of golden straw, and brought it to the corner of the yard for my brother to roast the rats. The straw fire burned brightly, scorching the black fur of the rats. Waiting until it was just right, my brother used a stick to pick up the rats and peel off the outer skin. As he peeled, tender white rat meat was revealed, glistening with fat. The cleaned rat meat, with its intestines removed, was chopped into small pieces and seasoned evenly to be prepared into various dishes...

On cool autumn afternoons, in the small kitchen corner, the sizzling sound of frying oil and the fragrant aroma of rat meat filled the air, creating a warm and comforting atmosphere. Braised rat with lemongrass and chili, crispy fried rat with sesame seeds, fried rat with lime leaves, or minced rat meat patties wrapped in betel leaves – each preparation method offered its own unique flavor. Each bite of the fragrant, rich, and fatty rat meat made the whole evening meal feel wonderful. My father always said, "Rat meat is like field rabbit meat!" So, as a child, wherever I went, I would boast, "My family always gets to eat rice with field rabbit meat every day." Later, when I had the chance to taste rabbit meat, I still believe that no other meat is as irresistibly delicious as the rat meat from the fields of my homeland in those old days...

Phan Duc Loc