Roadkill: One from the road

Early autumn and the fields are stubble; tree branches droop with cobnuts, and dead rabbits and squashed game birds litter the A roads. It is a tragic fact of country life that as soon as the harvest is over, the roadkill season begins.

Not every animal crosses the road to get to the other side. Furred and feathered creatures wander on to roads to get the grain that drops from trailers after harvest. Last week, our car nearly hit two deer as they scampered across the A354 between Salisbury and Blandford Forum.

My husband much prefers a squashed rabbit to paying the butcher. When we first began renting a Dorset cottage, he approached the highway supermarket too enthusiastically. As far as Dominic was concerned, if it was ready-made bolognese sauce, that wasn't going too far. Fights in the car over the admission of various body parts ended with me threatening to get out if the mangled rabbit came in. Rules have now been made; no more than one squashed leg and nothing headless is about the sum of it. I dare not wonder what he eats when I am not there.

Motor vehicles are responsible for the deaths of millions of birds and mammals each year. The trouble being that up to 100 years ago the wildlife population had little more than horse-drawn carriages to contend with - they have not evolved Green Cross Code instincts to deal with two tons of metal coming at them at 60mph. Sad as this is, for those who enjoy eating game birds, rabbits and venison, roadkill is an opportunity. If the condition of the meat on the dead creature is good enough for eating, leaving the poor thing to become more severely squashed by passing cars seems a terrible waste.

Neither the Department for Transport, the Highways Agency nor English Nature keeps statistics, but the conservative estimate is that at least 10 million birds and mammals are killed on our roads each year. Only a proportion of these are species that humans normally eat; sadly, far too many owls and rare birds hit car radiators. There is a human cost to road/wildlife confrontation, too. On average, 12 people a year are killed when deer hit their cars, or when swerving to avoid animals.

The highest death toll relates to the abundance of certain species, not to suicidal behaviour. In spite of their joke status among truckers, hedgehogs are rarely killed. Foxes, deer, badgers, pheasants, rabbits and wood pigeons top the league, with pheasants outnumbering everything at least six times.

The British Association of Shooting and Conservation (BASC) estimates that 25 million pheasants are farmed and released (into the wild) each year for driven game-bird shoots. Of these, 40 per cent (10 million) are not shot but die from predation, disease or on our roads. Mortality among wild birds is up to 80 per cent in their first year. If a third of those 10 million pheasants are killed on the road, and 20 per cent of the casualties are in an edible condition, 600,000 pheasant meals will go to waste unless the public makes use of roadkill.

Ownership of roadkill is debatable. Most country people assume that the driver who kills the rabbit, pheasant or pigeon may not make a meal of it, but the driver of the car behind can. In 2004, when I was researching my book on economic cooking, The New English Kitchen, the Highways Agency told me that it owns roadkill, but this rule is rarely enforced. It is, though, the party that is responsible for clearing it away.

Trying to get involved in roadside animal welfare is not recommended. One Dorset neighbour stopped his car when he saw an injured deer. Taking a garden tool from the boot, the experienced countryman raised it, on the point of putting the wretch out of its misery. But before he could deliver the blow, a woman leapt from a passing car and attacked him, believing the deer to be his victim.

It is illegal to kill an animal, even if it is suffering, unless, like a vet, you have the appropriate insurance. This means animals are left wounded, sometimes for hours, as the appropriate red tape is unravelled. Some organisations insist that rescue should be attempted. The charity Wildlife Aid raises funds to pay for treatment of animals involved in road accidents; £175 is the average cost of treating a deer.

The hunting ban means more than one hare has been brought to my door by owners of errant lurchers. Guilty faced, they ask if we can do anything with their dog kill. Certainly. I'll whip it into a hare ragout in no time, to serve with parsley (no cheese) over buttery egg noodles. The meat must be cubed, not minced, or the texture will be gritty. Lots of celery (but no carrot) is essential. So is red wine and a little tomato paste. Wash it down with a dark, beefy wine from the cool hills of Tuscany.

Avoid all bruised meat (it will taste sour), and make sure the roadkill is fresh. In late summer the flies begin to arrive almost immediately and you do not want maggoty meat. Don't dress the carcass - simply cut any healthy-looking meat from the bone. Rabbit is excellent for a stir-fry or a curry, and a sautéed fresh rabbit liver is a delicacy. Above all, don't be squeamish; the roadkill is long past caring whether its future is either to be marked with more Michelin treads, or served with a red.

The New English Kitchen by Rose Prince, Fourth Estate, £12.99

Is it legal?

There are no clear laws governing the consumption of roadkill. The most relevant regulation is the EU Animal By-Products Regulation.

Wild animals not suspected of having an infectious disease fall outside of this legislation - and so there are no rules governing their disposal. A wild animal is defined as any animal not "kept" by a human. So squirrels, rabbits, pheasants, hares and badgers are likely to be fine.

Animals that are owned, however, must be disposed of according to EU rules - which usually means they have to be processed and incinerated. This includes pets, circus animals, and farm animals. It would, therefore, not be legal to eat them.

Nussaibah Younis

First, find your pigeon...

Roast woodpigeon crowns and rabbit with apples and cobnuts

(serves 2)

1 pigeon
1 rabbit
softened butter
1 shallot, finely chopped
2 discovery or other English apples, cored and diced
1 rasher of smoked streaky bacon, cut into small pieces
the leaves from four sprigs of parsley
1 glass of white port
sea salt and black pepper

First separate the crown (breast-bone with attached meat) from the rest of the bird. Pluck some of the breast feathers away; cut the head off close to the breast then remove the wings at the joint closest to the body. Place both your thumbs in the cavity and pull hard. Once the bone cracks, the crown should lift easily away from the rest of the carcass. Pluck any remaining feathers; keep the liver if it is in good condition.

Prepare the rabbit, making a cut from throat to anus that only pierces the skin. Remove the feet. Ease the skin off, over the front legs, and down the torso. Hold the top of the rabbit in one hand and skin in the other. Pull hard and the whole skin will come off. Pinch a piece of skin close to the back legs and make a horizontal cut. Pick up the rabbit by the back legs and let the guts slide out. The liver and heart will be left in the cavity; pull them out and set aside. Cut out the saddle meat (along the back bone) and joint the back legs (if un-bruised). Heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Rub both the rabbit and pigeon with butter and season. Roast for 15 minutes, then remove and cover with foil. Allow to rest for a further 15 minutes.

Melt about 2tbsp of butter in a pan, then saute the shallot with the bacon, liver and heart until lightly browned. Add the apple and cobnuts, and cook for a further minute. Stir in the parsley leaves and port then cook for 30 seconds more. Divide the meat between two plates, spoon the nuts and apple mixture around it. Serve with boiled wholewheat grains (ebly) or pearl barley.

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