Winter doldrums are a common malady of Maine outdoorsmen during many months of cold and snow. Anglers take the edge off their cabin fever by tying flies or building a rod, and many brave the elements to do a bit of ice fishing. Hunters have more difficulty filling the cold-weather void of so many closed shotgun, rifle, and bow seasons. Watching TV shows or videos and reading magazines stories and books about favorite types of shooting doesn’t help much. Reloading shells and gun maintenance aren’t much relief either. A few turn to sniping varmints at long range or skeet fields for short-term relief.

A hunter really needs to plan for the next season and relive the conquests and even the failures of past hunts. A random phone call or a chance encounter with an old gunning partner can erase the winter blues and blahs for a week. With this in mind, a few years ago my cousin Steve Hitchcock came up with a solution to help himself and a few shooting companions better endure the offseason. Thus began the annual Hitchcock Game Feast and Gab Fest.

Steve and I grew up together in Mars Hill. We went to grade school, high school, and college together. During those formative years we spent a lot of time outdoors, often with a rod or gun in hand. Even when the curse of employment separated us in various towns and cities, we kept in touch and went afield together whenever possible. Even when we ended up at different ends of the state, we still kept sporting traditions alive, traveling five hours to fish a little and hunt a lot together, and with each other’s friends. Thanks to our family ties and outdoor partnership, I became part of the annual February feast and fable festival that helps break up our winter.

The food

Guests begin arriving for Hitchcock’s annual game dinner about 5:30 p.m. on the first Saturday of February, and no one comes empty handed. Each visitor is responsible for at least one entree of wild game. It can be of the fin, feather, or fur species, common or exotic, and the recipe can be an old standby or a unique new taste sensation. Each and every sportsman attending the event actually prepares the offering from game they caught or shot during the past season, and all are as proud of their cooking as their hunting and fishing expertise.

A microwave and a regular oven are used to heat dishes brought by participants who have traveled. Plug-ins are plentiful for warming trays and crock pots. A large table and a spacious L-shaped counter are used to set out the wide array of food, which is served buffet style. The aromas are tantalizing and the variety marvelous and mouth-watering. Plates are heaped high; some guests sit, many stand, groups form to talk and tell tales, then break up for more food and reform with new members and different stories.

On this year’s menu were sweet-and-sour venison, caribou meatballs, moose meat cabbage rolls, and candied bear strips. Two of the sports raise beans in their gardens, and one huge crock was filled with the old-fashioned mustard, brown sugar, and molasses recipe while the second pot of baked beans offered a mouth-watering maple syrup flavor with just a hint of Jack Daniels. In my book, home-baked beans are always better with cornbread and one of the cooks baked a huge tray of thick, soft cornbread made from scratch.

One of the outdoorsmen, a devout waterfowler, presented us with a full crock pot of black duck, eider, and goose bourguignon. There was a tray of roast mallard breast and another of braised eider breast. In another bubbling crock pot was a rich, thick coot stew. Two other offerings were heaping trays of soft yeast rolls and another of still-warm buttermilk biscuits.

I’m sure you’re starting to see why the guest list has swollen from 12 at the first event seven years ago to 27 at the most recent one. As the crowd expands, so does the selection of wonderful wild game dishes. I’m sure it’s easy to understand why more than one visit to the table and a couple of plates and bowls are required to sample the many tasty treats. Steve has even gone so far as to have a few foam containers on hand so favorite leftovers can be taken home for snacks.

For fish lovers this year, there was a steamed Atlantic salmon with dill sauce and smoked bluefish filets. A huge pot of venison chili was devoured within the first hour, and my personal favorite, a thinly sliced herb-rubbed caribou roast, lasted only a bit longer. Homemade brownies, fudge, and chocolate chip cookies rounded out the meal for those who had any room left.

At past game dinners, hunters prepared wild roast turkey, grilled pheasant, broiled partridge breast, black bear stew, moose chili, lobster Newburg, and mouflon sheep. Last year a couple of freshly baked wild blueberry pies were on the dessert table. Variety expands and changes every dinner, but as good as the food tastes, it’s only half of the reason our group gathers.

Terrific tales

Camaraderie, sharing outdoor adventures, and planning future outings are just as important to a game dinner as the fine food. My first stop at this year’s event was the kitchen, where I just happened to find a trio of friends already eating and talking. After greeting each other, they regaled me for 10 minutes with their escapades during the last sea duck hunt of the season.

That morning with warm sunny weather and calm seas, the three waterfowlers enjoyed a fine outing on Brown Fox Ledge. Eiders flew steady, scoter and old squaw couldn’t be kept out of the decoys, and gunning was fabulous. I was excited, a bit jealous considering the weather at home, and already enjoying the evening without yet trying a morsel of food.

While I filled my plate, another acquaintance and I exchanged performance reports on last summer’s salmon fishing results. Although we cross paths only a couple of times a year, this fellow fly caster and I seem to take up where we left off months before. I lamented about the rain and high water conditions on the Matapedia and he bewailed losing his largest fish of the season, a huge Cascapedia hookbill in the 30-pound class only feet from the net. I chewed and he talked, then he forked in some food and I chatted. We both stood right near the table just in case an empty spot on our plate required refilling.

Marty Greeley, a friend and sometime hunting partner, who I met through Steve, kept me enthralled for half an hour with the story of his grand slam on wild turkey. In 2004, Marty bagged an Eastern in Maine, an Osceolla in Florida, a Rio Grande in Texas, and a Merriams in Nebraska. All were toms with long beards and big spurs, and he even took the Nebraska gobbler with a bow.

Just setting up the travel and obtaining permits and licenses was a chore, and the story of each hunt was thrilling. Marty turned down a lot of shots at young turkeys, using up a full week in one state to finally fill his tag. Such exciting adventures can end up being costly to listeners, because I got to wondering why I shouldn’t give a grand slam a try.

Chet Gillis cornered Steve and I mid-evening to tell us about snow goose hunting last spring along the St. Lawrence River in Quebec. Birds were plentiful, the guides were excellent callers, the blinds were dry and comfortable, and the price was unbelievably low. Before I ever got to sample dessert, I was part of a group of six who will be gunning snow geese in late April. That will teach me to dawdle in one spot too long between courses.

My most interesting conversation of the evening was with Tom Skofield, a weather-worn septuagenarian lobsterman with a tough exterior and a soft-hearted way with words. Just hearing his stories about being brought up living in a lighthouse were amazing. When your father is a lighthouse keeper, and you spend your formative years on an island, the stories are diverse and plentiful.

Tom’s artistic carvings of whales, sharks, and other fish done using a large bone found in the head of a codfish were amazing to see. Each piece of intricate work resembles scrimshaw, and what began as a hobby has turned into work as many friends wish to purchase his intricate craftsmanship. His stories kept me well entertained.

I stood, I sat, I leaned, I listened, and I ate, and then ate some more. We all did. Just thinking of the wide array of tasty game dishes, the diversity of guests, and the terrific sporting tales will get me through another month or so of snow and cold.

If the walls are beginning to close in on some of you, perhaps a wild game dinner and gathering of friends is just what you need to perk up. Just because favorite hunting seasons are currently closed doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the taste and tales of last year’s and plan ahead for next year with family and friends.

Outdoor feature writer Bill Graves can be reached via e-mail at bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com