Capriolo al Barolo

Nebbiolo Grapes

As a break from two weeks working in Germany attending trade shows, I took a (in my opinion) well-deserved two-day weekend in Italy’s Piemonte, with the very specific purpose of visiting my friend Vito Benevelli and having a couple meals at this restaurant Frandin da Vito.

I stopped by at lunch and we spent sometime talking (I was also eating) while Vito cleaned some fantastic Porcini mushrooms that would be the main meal during the evening’s dinner when I would return with my friend Patrick, for his proper introduction to the rich Piemontese cuisine, including proper tasting of its foremost wines, Barbaresco, Nebbiolo (which has a very special place in my soul), and the great Barolo.

Following dinner Patrick and I shared some of Vito’s Genipi (the home made liquor made of Alpine flowers and herbs I told you about before) and joined him for some discussion on Italian wines and Patrick started his collection of Great Italian wines.

Before we left, Vito asked me to comeback the following day (Saturday, 15^th) at 15:00 hours (that is 3:00 PM).

Next afternoon when I arrived Vito had set aside two 12 gauge over-under shotguns and a 240 Weatherby rifle, topped with a Zeiss 8X scope, and his backpack (or Zaino) with all the gear for an afternoon hunt.

We made a stop at TAV Carignano for some Elica shooting and this time I really shot badly. If Bill Berghuiss were with us, he would have shouted “Good Shot, Dick!”

After watching our friend Signor Guido win a fat poker hand with a Straight, we bid him farewell and continued our way to Barolo, and more specifically Monforte d’Alba, Vito’s birthplace and the city were his vines and cantina are located, and the vindima was in full swing.

We visited his home and as we toured his vines I was able to taste in loco the fantastic sweetness and delicate flavor of the Nebbiolo grapes, from which both Barolo and Nebbiolo wines are made, the main difference being the aging in oak barrels, one year for the Nebbiolo and at least three years for the Barolo.

As afternoon was coming to an end, and dusk began to approach, we rushed towards a local Azienda Faunistico-Venatoria, or in US parlance a hunting preserve or lease. The property was about one thousand hectares or 2,200 acres, and was a mix of luxurious riverbeds, meadows and mature woods, and there were no fences. All game is free ranging!

All over the Barolo region I saw signs announcing that there was open hunting on wild boar and foxes, but our target was the Capriolo (Capreolus capreolus), or roe deer, one of the most widespread of the Old World deer.

We parked close to one of the gates, got our gear and started walking towards one of the several meadows that dot the property. Just as we approach it I saw a large and beautiful fox moving along the one of the edges as we passed by a large number of bee hives, another sweet wild local delicacy.

We walked towards a ditch where we entrenched ourselves, got comfortable and started waiting for dusk and capriolo. Shortly after I spotted the first deer, or better saying doe, about four hundred yards away on the opposite wood’s edge. Shortly after, Vito spotted another doe with two fawns on the opposite side of the field and less than two hundred yards from us.

Over the next hour or so we had as much as eight does and fawns at a time on the field, and the fawns were clearly demonstrating why the roe deer is capriolo in Italy. They were playing and jumping around non-stop.

A nice sized doe (capriolo is quite smaller than whitetail) came to about a hundred yards of us, and with a scoped 240 Weatherby rifle from a solid rest that would have been a very easy shot, but we were after roebucks, and never pulled the trigger.

By this time I already had realized that hunting capriolo in the Piemonte is not that different from hunting whitetails in Michigan. Big bucks don’t grow big by being stupid, and they did stick to heavy cover and never came out. When it got to dark to shoot we grabbed our stuff and walked back to the car.

We then drove back to San Mauro Torinese and Vito and I had dinner together, at his place off course! And we had Capriolo al Barolo, from an animal that he had shot some days before. We polished out a couple bottles of Nebbiolo wine and I was forced into eating dessert: small pears cooked in wine and covered with a sauce made of chocolate and Amaretto and Zuppa Inglese, which is not a soup, but a delicious cake.

Before I departed Vito committed to join me next year in Uruguay for perdiz. I will be looking forward to that.

As any regional dishes, there are many subtle ways to prepare Capriolo al Barolo. This is one that looks similar to the way that Vito cooks at his restaurant Frandin da Vito in San Mauro Torinese.

Ingredients

·       800 grams (or about two pounds) of capriolo (you could replace it by venison), without fat

·       1 large glass of Barolo wine

·       1 onion

·       2 cloves of garlic

·       1 bunch of tarragon

·       2 or 3 branches of marjoram

·       50 grams of butter

·       50 grams of white flour

·       2 small glasses of Brandy

·       1 small glass of vegetable stock

·       Salt and pepper

Preparation

Cut the capriolo in cubes, keeping the bones, and place it on a dish large enough to hold it all in one layer. Add all the wine and half of the brandy, and turn the pieces after one hour. After two hours, in a way that all pieces marinated in both sides for at least one hour, spread over all the capriolo a fine paste made of onion, garlic, tarragon, marjoram, salt and pepper (personally I do not use pepper). Leave marinating for at least four hours (my friend Vito will leave it for at least 24 hours). Before cooking, dry the pieces of capriolo with paper towels. Melt the butter over very moderate heat in a large pan (I like cast-iron) adding salt and pepper. Add the pieces of capriolo and when they are well browned in both sides, put them aside. Return all the pieces to the cooking pan, covering them with boiling water. Add the flour, the remaining of the brandy, the vegetable stock and let it cook until the sauce is reduced to gravy. Serve immediately, placing the gravy over the pieces of capriolo.

Hasenpfeffer

Going for the safety of the hedgerow

I had not been in Europe since last May and I spent last week in a hotel in the outskirts of Frankfurt (Germany) while attending the AutoMechanika trade show.

It always surprises and enchants me how many European countries were able to achieve a reasonable balance between brutally urbanized and developed societies and keep a bit of nature, if not preserved, then at least “at hand”, even that close to major urban centers.

German is quite a green country, although most of the place has been heavily used, explored and at times destroyed by human interference for the last several hundred years, but there is an effort to landscape it in a way that makes most people feel at home when wandering through its fields.

That was pretty much the case last week. A couple mornings I went out for “a brisk walk” as recommended by my health coach, and rather than take the way to the city park, I just took “the less traveled path”.

I would start as dawn was breaking, and in a couple minutes I could leave most buildings behind and start to walk a paved trail around some agricultural fields, sugar beets waiting to be picked, wheat already harvested, and the alfalfa growing again for the last cut before winter sets in.

But what really caught my attention were the hedgerows that would shelter the fields and my trail from the frantic highways nearby. If I kept my eyes properly focused I could ignore the Frankfurt skyline and I could just pretend the unending noise of the uncountable trucks and cars could be a distant gathering storm.

It is fantastic the power of a couple meters wide un-mowed hedges. There were berry patches that would keep a black bear happy, if there were any in Germany, but above all was plenty of cover, and as the din morning light started to gain strength I started to see uncountable fluffy rabbits moving around. They were returning from their nocturnal frolics in the fields and getting back to their briar sanctuaries.

I generally could approach them to ten or fifteen yards, and very soon my wild heart started to dream of walking those hedges with a .22 rifle in hand (probably a Winchester Model 67A that I picked at a used gun rack for about US$ 140), loaded either with shorts or some of the new low noise sub-sonic loads, and the goal would be to gather a mess of rabbits for a nice Hasenpfeffer, the typical German rabbit stew, made famous by no other than Bugs Bunny himself (and infamous by some of his less charming sidekicks, Yosemite Sam and Elmer Fudd).

While I can daydream as much as I want, I am not sure how the local authorities would view my rabbit safari, especially due to the fact that I did not undergo the very stringent German hunting education program (see “Becoming a hunter…in Germany”, a post in this blog from February 15^th, 2012) and would be carrying an American rifle, rather than a locally made and over-engineered one.

At one point I had to turn back to the hotel (work has a tendency to interfere with the most pleasurable moments in life), and with the morning lights much brighter now I could notice some more details. Bushes and vines were already getting tinted by the gorgeous colors of fall, red being the predominant one.

Also, the big and desirable European hares were still out in the fields, while the shy rabbits had mostly retired or were closer to the edges of the hedgerows. Apparently the hares trust their size and speed to allow them to enjoy the morning sun and are more confident to be able to outsmart or outrun the odd predator than the small bunnies.

Soon after the black crows, a protect “bird of prey”, started to fly around, tacking their murdering intensions elsewhere and completely unaware of me as a potential predator or source of danger of even nuisance.

However, I was happy to see that the beautiful woodpigeons will shy away from a person walking the fields, which indicates that some dedicated hunters still use a good load of number sixes to keep them educated and wild.

To that I must say “Weidmanns Heil” and bid you farewell!

Algoma Bear Hunt

Ursus americanus

Two years ago this week my friend Bob Scott and I came back from our first, and so far only, black bear hunt.

We hunted with Jeff Helms of Agawa Canyon Outfitters. Jeff lives most of the year in Grand Rapids – MI, but from July through September he exiles himself in Ontario, or more precisely the Algoma Sustainable Forest, about one hundred miles East of Wawa.

Some place deep inside the Algoma Forest is Half-Way Heaven, a lodge known for the price of their gas that caters for snowmobilers during the winter and hunters in the fall.

Half-Way Heaven is Jeff’s headquarters during bear season, and the owners Gail and Steve, along with Billie, the god, and John, the “nefu”, took excellent care of us, which included a long trip to the nearest town to buy chocolate milk and Oreos for my breakfast.

During fall black bears eat up to twenty thousand calories per day in order to prepare for the winter hibernation, and in order to keep the bears around Jeff keeps between twenty and thirty active bear bates, each with a tree-stand or other suitable shooting “platform”.

The carefully prepared bate is a mix of marshmallow, chocolate fudge and cherry pie filling, and every other day or so a half gallon is deposited in the bottom of a 55-gallon drum. A cover is placed on top with a heavy rock over it to prevent smaller animals from getting to the bait. Caramel is poured over the rock, and “liquid smoke” generously spread all around.

In order to estimate the size of the bear a piece of frozen beaver (courtesy of Steve’s winter trapping) hangs from a tree, and if a bear can reach it then it should be a shooter.

We got to the lodge on a Monday morning, and after proving to Jeff that we could hit a stationary target at twenty yards or so we had a light lunch and got ready to go to the stands by mid-afternoon.

Besides minimum shooting proficiency, Jeff’s require two basic pieces of equipment from all hunters; rubber boots in order not to leave human scent on the trail and “cut in contact” fixed broad heads for bow hunters.

Jeff placed me on my tree-stand around 3:30 PM, baited the barrel making plenty of noise (sort of ringing the dinner bell), and told me that someone would be back around 10:30 or 11:00 PM to get me.

Then the game of waiting began. I started counting minutes (I was advised against bringing a book as Jim, a fellow hunter, dropped his book and scared a bear away the previous year), observing squirrels and birds, and dedicating time to “philosophy”. I would look at the bate barrel frequently, but all was calm. Then some ruffed grouse came to a log not thirty feet away, opposite the bait, and I was admiring these wonderful birds.

Then, when I looked at towards the bait one more time there it was, a bear standing on its hind feet and snatching the beaver from the tree. The bear had not made any noise at all and I was not even sure for how long it had been there.

I could not take my eyes from the bear anymore. It came down on its hour paws and started licking the caramel from the rock. Suddenly it slapped the barrel and tumbled it. Then the bear walked away into the bush and my heart began to sink. But soon it returned.

The bear started to feed on the bait and as it got inside the barrel for the first time I was able to get my bow ready.

The angle that the barrel had fallen prevented the optimum “quartering away” shot, and I had to press my back against the tree to get a better angle, almost broadside. As the bear got inside the barrel once again, I pulled the bow to full draw and released the arrow.

I was so focused that I actually could see the fletching disappear into the bear coat.

The bear turned back and growled at the same time, and then ran towards the woods, but I could see it go down not ten yards away. The final below came in seconds, and there was a great silent in the northern woods.

I came down from the tree-stand, walked to the bear and snapped some pictures. Then I looked at my watch and it was 5:32 PM, and I had decision to make, I could either wait for another five hours or walk the ten kilometers to the lodge. I choose the walk.

Two hours later I faced a group of happy people having cold beers around the bonfire and asking me why I was back so soon. Had I given up?

One Shot, One...

Today while shooting SKRAP (trying to hit wobble trap targets from skeet stations) with friends at the Southern Michigan Gun Club, I was listening to some rather “intense” rapid fire coming from one of the rifle ranges and started thinking about the benefits (or lack of) of rapid fire.

On the occasion that I got my first whitetail deer (Opening Day or November 15^th of 2003) someone was just blasting away with what I believe was an extended magazine shotgun, and from first light to 9:00 AM I heard this person shoot at least two strings of eight shots from it.

That was at least a bit unnerving, and today I wonder if that person was a card-carrying member of PETA just trying to keep deer out of harms way!

Anyhow, I just continued to consider the benefits of rapid fire versus deliberate or precise shooting, and remembered a scene from the film “River of No Return”, which besides featuring a wonderfully beautiful Marilyn Monroe, has one of the best dialogues on proper rifleman ship that I ever heard.

Matt Calder (Robert Mitchum) is teaching his son Mark (Tommy Rettig) how to shoot, and before Mark takes the first shot they have the following conversation:

Matt:    “What is important?”

Mark:   “To hit the target.”

Matt:    “When?”

Mark:   “The first shot.”

Matt:    “Why?”

Mark:   “Because I might not get another.”

If that is not the best and most concise lesson on rifleman ship ever, I don’t know where to find a better one.

To continue to pursue the point of accurate shooting versus “spray and pray” I also looked for some for some data on military snipers. Several years ago I read (don’t remember where) that during the Vietnam War on average 12,000 (that is right, twelve thousand) shots of small arms ammunition were required to cause an enemy casualty, while snipers had an average of 1.42 shots per “kill”, or 70% hit ratio.

Finally, I tried to recall my own record of big game hunting (which is not particularly extensive), and if memory serves me, I shot to date twenty-four animals from multiple species, at ranges varying from less than ten feet (alligator which I shot with a .38 Special revolver) to over 300 yards (a Kudu shot with a .30-06 rifle). The total number of shots that I fired at game was twenty-nine, which would result on average of 1.20 shots per kill, or 83% hit ratio.

In no way I want to compare myself favorably against military snipers. First, my shots are at much shorter distance; second, animals are not shooting back at me.

In the 1993 Gun Digest (47^th Annual Edition), Ken Warner, the editor at the time, made “A Modest Proposal” (page 6). Basically he proposed that the sportsmen should limit the amount of ammunition they bring afield as a way to either cure or prevent slob hunters.

The point is that we hunters, shooters and sportsmen are probably much better if we concentrate in being better shots than just increasing the amount of lead and other metals that we pour in our woods, fields and mountains.

This is not only safer and good for the environment, but also easier on our wallets and brings more game to our ladders.

Go Anywhere Gun Battery

Three guns to go anywhere

I really like firearms, and I must confess that I have more guns than I really need, but less than I would like to have, although my wife will only agree to the first part of this comment.

But many times I ask myself what would be the minimum gun battery that I could get by?

If I had to be very frugal or would have to explore new country; or take a long trip restricting my luggage to manageable size and weight; and yet have enough flexibility to hunt almost any game, survive for long periods and be able to defend myself, I narrowed down my choices to three firearms.

First and foremost would be a 12 gauge side-by-side shotgun with double triggers. Many people would say that they would do as well with a Remington 870 or other comparable pump shotgun, but let me explain the details of my first choice.

A double trigger side-by-side shotgun, hammerless or not, is effectively two guns into one. There is a separate locking mechanism and trigger for each barrel, so if one of them breaks down for some reason, you still can use the other half of the gun. Over-under shotguns could also be an option, but they are less common with two triggers and I like the way that side-by-side guns handle better.

Also, for the occasional or roaming hunter, the two barrels can be stuffed with different loads for small and big game. Load buckshot or slugs in the right (open choke) barrel and a charge of No. 6 birdshot in the left (tighter choke), and you are ready for just about anything in the American continent, provided that you can get within 40 yards or so. This would be effective protection even if traveling in bear country.

Another reason that I would select a 12 gauge double barrel shotgun instead of another action or smaller gauge is the flexibility that this platform provides. The 12 gauge can take a multitude of sub caliber devices that allow it to use a lot of different ammunitions. “Little Skeeters” (www.littleskeeters.com) are ones that I have experience with. They are basically a chamber within a chamber, and in a 12 gauge “break-up” shotgun you can use 20, 28 and 410 shells. There are many other similar devices, but these are simple and relatively low cost. Actually, anyone with a late and some aluminum bars could make such devices.

I also have an adaptor that allows me to shoot .22 Short, Long and Long Rifle from any break-open shotgun (I will cover than in detail in the future), and I have seen others in .22 Hornet, .38 Special and .45 Colt. I have a friend in Brazil that made a .38 Special sub caliber for one of his shotgun out of discarded carbine barrel. While my unit has an extractor and the point of impact can be adjusted, his home made version is bit more like the “Little Skeeters” mentioned above, but it works properly.

The final advantage of a shotgun is that is easy to reload its ammunition. Basically the only “store bought” components that you need are primers and some kind of gun powder. When I was a teenager growing up in Brazil I would use brass shot shell, black or smokeless powder, use old newspaper or even toilet paper for wads, and just about anything that fit the barrel for projectiles. If the intended prey was large game (in my case, capybaras) I would just look for some large sinkers from my dad’s fishing box, more or less fitting the bore and I had a new slug load in less time than it takes to write this. I could keep all my reloading supplies in a small zip lock bag.

Next gun would be a .22 LR carbine because it is light, quiet, easy to use, the ammunition is cheap and low weight (a brick of 500 .22 LR cartridges probably weights less than a couple boxes of 12 gauge shot shells).

In a survival situation it is most likely that you will see a lot more small game than big animals, and the .22 LR is about as perfect a small game round as any. But the .22 LR can take even large game (although that is probably not legal anywhere in the US and Canada), and I once killed a 1,600 pound Brahma bull with a single .22 bullet to the forehead.

My personal choice for .22 LR ammunition is the solid bullet. In order to preserve edible meat in small game animals we should take head shots, and for larger game in survival situations (please, remember that rimfire ammunition is generally illegal for big game animals) we need all the penetration that we can get from such a small bullet.

The exact model and action of the .22 carbine is a matter of personal preference. The old Winchester Model 62 and similar rifles that can accommodate .22 Short, Long and Long Rifle would be a plus. My personal choice is a Browning 22 Auto for a couple reasons. It is a classic design, light and reliable, easier to scope than the Model 62 and I already have one.

The other important characteristic is that, like the Model 62, The Browning 22 Auto is a take down rifle, just like almost all double barrel shotguns. This means that the long guns can be disassembled and transported in a ruck sack or backpack. Many times being inconspicuous is an advantage.

I would strongly recommend a robust scope in your rifle as bullet placement is the most crucial aspect of bringing game down, especially with the limited power of a .22 rimfire. My rifle has a 2½ power Lyman, but I would be as happy with a 4X or 6X unit provided it is not bulky.

The final component of my “minimum gun battery” would be a handgun, and the main reason is that it can be carried in a holster all the time while keep your hands free for other shores.

Having at least one gun always attached to your body is not a bad idea. During the late Coronel Roosevelt’s expedition “through the Brazilian wilderness”, and after their party had split in two, the naturalist Mr. Fiala and his team capsized their canoes and lost almost their gears and our their guns, and had a lot of trouble securing food through hunting afterwards. A revolver in the holster and a dozen or so additional bullets would mitigate this problem.

Modern auto loading pistols are completely reliable, but my personal choice would be a revolver. I am a traditionalist at heart, revolvers are very robust and much more flexible is digesting different bullets and loads, and they keep the fired cases inside the cylinder chambers so it can be reloaded later.

The specific revolver choice, especially regarding caliber, would depend on your “environment” or location. For general use I believe that the .38 Special is hard to beat. The ammunition is available almost anywhere, powerful enough for personal defense and medium sized game, and easy to reload. Off course, a .357 Magnum could be an alternative, but I personally don’t see the benefit.

A nice point about the .38 Special (and .357 Magnum) is that you can reload it with 9 mm Parabellum, 380 ACP or 38 Super components. Also, the .38 Special takes a lot less powder per shot than the .357 Magnum.

If you are in a “low intensity” scenario, than a .22 revolver would probably fit most of your needs. It can’t be reloaded, but it shares the ammunition with your rifle, and you can carry a lot of it, with reasonable low weight.

However, if I were in big bear country, I probably would choose a .44 Magnum. I have a very nice Smith & Wesson Model 29 in almost mint condition, and a Ruger Bisley single-action, and the later would be elected to go rough. The Ruger is very robust and is probably the most affordable .44 Magnum in the market, used or new.

Most common pistol calibers can be reloaded with a “Lee Loader” (www.leeprecision.com) that weights less than a pound and costs less than forty bucks. With a bit more money you can add a bullet mold to it.

Although shotgun and pistol ammunition takes different primers, they will generally use the same type of fast burning powder. A couple hundred primers and a pound or two of gun powder should fit in your long-term travel or survival bag. Lead can be scavenged if you are creative enough.

My choices are not particular high tech or tactical. The guns that I selected for my minimum battery are time proven, robust, available and affordable. They can be used for many hunting and survival situations, or just for plain fun. You probably can put together a similar kit that fits your specifically needs with firearms that you already own.

Chasing Cougar Over 30 Years

Original illustration by Ralf Birch

Imagine a child that wants to take possession of a treasure, and as simple as a child’s treasure can be, they can be unachievable, owned by giants, guarded by tradition.

Imagine now that same child, having crossed oceans, explored continents, still loving the same giants, and unsuspecting of the passing of time, suddenly coming across the once much desired treasure.

I already told you about the farmhouse I grew in and about the 1960’s vintage cabinet that there was in the front guest room and some of the treasures that it contained, one of them a paper box that once encased a hunting knife.

Ivete was a close friend to my mother that sometimes would visit us at the farm. Ivete worked at the “Casa Bardaro” in Ribeirão Preto, a very traditional hardware and home appliances store that did not survive the turbulent evolution of the Brazilian economy during the 1980’s.

On one of her visits, in the early 1970’s, Ivete presented my father, who at the time was a dedicated outdoorsman, with a hunting knife. This knife was made by Mundial, a large Brazilian cutlery that unhappily no longer makes sport knifes, and had a design inspired on some Puma skinners, and was aptly named Cougar.

Although a cougar is a puma by any other name, and vice-versa, this Cougar knife had a distinct personally. The blade is forged from high carbon steel and then hard chromed; the handles or scales are some kind of Brazilian hardwood and a long leather tong passed through an eye on the tang. A leather sheath accompanied the knife. I remember an occasion when my father took this knife on a duck hunt and lost it on his way back to the truck and then backtracked through the swamp until he found it.

But if the Cougar knife was attractive its paper case was fascinating. On the cover there was a picture of a high power bolt-action scoped rifle and some bottlenecked cartridges on top of a jaguar or leopard pelt.

All these things were rare and exotic for a child in my situation. Brazilian gun laws being restrictive as they have always been and American or African big spotted cats also not being available around the corner (not that there were many street corners in the farm) made my imagination take off. Compound that with a healthy dose of Tarzan comic books and movies and stories generously supplied by my grandfather and you may see me flying from our farm to the jungles of Mato Grosso and from there, to the savannahs of Africa.

But children are careless with their treasures and one day that box disappeared and the knife submerged in some obscure kitchen duty and the years went by.

Just before Christmas of 1999 we visited our family farm in Goiás state, central Brasil, just weeks before I relocated to the Netherlands with my wife and children and as I snooped around drawers and cabinets I found that Cougar knife, rusted, broken tip but never forgotten. I took it to the shop, cleaned all the rust, reshaped the blade and sharpened it until it could cut as well as a cougar can bite and let my father know I just had taken possession of a treasure.

During the short three years that we lived in the Netherlands I used the Cougar intensively, special on barbecues and when we again relocated to the United States it came along with us.

But since the world is full of surprises this story is not over yet.

One Saturday on the summer of 2004 I was looking things around at a gun show in Kalamazoo, Michigan, when coming on to a table I saw a card box with the picture a high power scoped rifle and some bottlenecked cartridges on top of a jaguar or leopard pelt and inside it a brand new Cougar knife.

After asking for the price of the knife I paid the amount so fast I must have frightened the seller. I had to be quick or Cougar could get away.

Clearly, that gentleman did not know that he had a treasure on his hands. A treasure that, after 30 years, I now own.

Note from author:

This feature was first published as part of my book “A Wild Beast at Heart” (www.publishamerica.com, ISBN-10 1424147212) in 2006. During the launch ceremony of my second book “Caçadas: Estórias e Outras Mentiras” my friend Eloir Mário Marcelino and Colonel Trajano, both passionate hunters, book collectors and internet scroungers were telling me that they were able to locate several Cougar knives at “Mercado Livre” and other internet shopping sites, and that both had bought a couple each. I understand that Cougars are commanding a premium price, and I am very happy to have mine well guarded for “ future generations”.