Muskrat: It doesn't taste like chicken
While the passion for muskrat fades, the exotic experience can still be shared on Delmarva by the open-minded.
Mike Walker stepped out of his canoe and onto the banks of Pitts Creek.
He swayed as thick mud nearly swallowed his boots whole.
Unfazed, he trudged toward firmer ground near the edge of the Virginia marsh.
"Looks like we got one," he yelled over his shoulder.
Walker knelt down and tugged at a rope buried in mud.
Dangling at its end was a muskrat — his ninth catch of the day.
Walker released the rodent from the trap and set it down next to his boot.
He repositioned the trap near a hole burrowed into the marshland.
"Little guy came in through here to get to the water," he said, pointing at the hole.
Walker broke a few twigs and stuck them in the mud near the trap, camouflaging it to fool the next one. He turned on his heels and trudged back toward the canoe, muddy muskrat in hand.
It’s a practice repeated for generations on Delmarva, as trappers sold the gray pelts and ate the meat. Once, muskrat was important in supplementing the family dinner table.
Now, it’s more of a novelty dish – the entrée at firehouse suppers or on “muskrat night” at a few local restaurants.
It’s a dish from another era, and perhaps not for the faint of heart. Regardless, trapping and eating muskrat is a rich Delmarva tradition that continues today.
"It doesn't taste like chicken"
Walker sells his catches to Susan Fletcher of New Church, Virginia.
Her highway store, Susan's Seafood, primarily sells crabs, shrimp, clams, crawfish and mussels.
But she also offers customers a few unusual options, like alligator sausage and muskrat.
Fletcher said each year, though, fewer people are buying the latter.
"The majority are older folks," she said. "The younger generation doesn't want to eat it. And the ones that are, grew up with it on the dinner table."
Chuck Coverdale of Milford, Delaware, said muskrat is an acquired taste.
"It's definitely unique," he said. "It doesn't taste like chicken. It doesn't taste like beef."
"It's muskrat. It's got its own flavor."
Coverdale eats the swamp rat once a week with his best friend Rudy Hitchens at the Southern Grill restaurant in Ellendale, Delaware.
"It's become a bit of a tradition," he said. "We've been doing it for a few years now."
Every Wednesday night during muskrat season – roughly December through the middle of March – the Southern Grill sells nearly 40 muskrat dinners.
The muskrats are broiled and flash-fried whole, and served either plain or smothered in gravy or barbecue sauce with two side dishes.
Muskrat: a Delmarva delicacy not for the faint of heart
Coverdale and Hitchens usually bring a few friends to join the feast. Hitchens' wife, Terri Hitchens, tags along as well, though she skips the muskrat.
"They love it," she said. "But I'll stick to the crab cakes."
Another area restaurant, Dayton's Restaurant in Salisbury, also offers muskrat every Tuesday and Thursday night.
Though Dayton's is known for hearty, home-style chicken and seafood dishes, its muskrat dinner is popular, too. Here, muskrat is served with hominy, turnip greens and homemade cornbread.
"We sell about 75 to 100 of them a week," owner Gordon Weitze said.
"It was hard times"
In the late 1970s and early '80s, the muskrat trapping business was booming.
Walker was catching 900 to 1000 muskrats a year, receiving nearly $10 for each hide.
But in 1985, the market fell, and the price dropped to 65 cents apiece.
For the next 20 years, Walker kept at it while watching the market slowly creep back up.
"It was hard times," he said. "I wouldn't have kept doing it if I wasn't passionate about it."
Finally, three years ago, the price was almost back up to rates from his beginning days of trapping.
Thanks to prospering Russian and Chinese markets and a growing demand for fur, Walker was getting about $7 for each hide.
But Russia's economy fell last year, and then China started having trouble, too, he recalled.
"They couldn't afford the fur anymore," he said.
So Walker watched the market dive yet again.
He won't know until the end of the season, but Walker is pretty sure he'll only get about $2 apiece for the pelts.
"Luckily, I make a little money off the meat," he said.
Fletcher pays Walker $2.25 for every small muskrat and $3.25 for the larges.
"It's something," he said.
"I took to it real quickly"
Walker learned the art of trapping from his grandfather.
"He took me out for the first time when I was 7 years old," he said, his words edged with a coastal Delmarva accent.
"It was all over after that first day. I took to it real quickly."
Walker trapped throughout high school and when he was visiting home during college breaks.
"I just like it," he said. "There's no stress – no one out here that wants something of me."
He looked out over the murky Virginia water. Reeds rustled against the February breeze as a hawk flew overhead.
"Out here, I'm just free," he said.
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