Most people don’t associate the words “roadkill” and “delicacy.” But in Alaska, roadside remains are moose, not possum or armadillo. And for people living on the edge of poverty, wild game offers much-needed sustenance, whether the animal is killed by a hunter or an 18-wheeler.
“There’s generally a lot of good useable meat,” said Paul Harrell, a layman at Friendship Baptist Church in Fairbanks, Alaska, in Tanana Valley Baptist Association. “Trucks usually hit the moose in the front or the rear. We hope they don’t hit it in the rear. That’s where most of the good meat is.”
As leader of his congregation’s roadkill salvage and gleaning ministry, Harrell works hard to make sure the meat doesn’t go to waste but helps feed people whose diet traditionally has included wild game.
Alaska’s highway patrol, in cooperation with the state’s fish and game commission, maintain a list of nonprofits the officers contact when they discover a moose that has recently been hit by a truck or other vehicle.
“We’re at the top of their list because they know we’ll come, day or night, and provide a quick cleanup,” Harrell said. A late-night phone call sometimes means he and his co-workers may spend up to three hours in 40 below zero temperatures as they field-dress a carcass. And they work on the dark roadside close to high-speed traffic.
Frigid temperatures make the work difficult but help preserve the meat and keep away insects, Harrell noted. When the weather warms, he and other volunteers have other methods of repelling pests.
“We’ve done this at 65 degrees, and it’s fine if we do it quickly,” Harrell said. “I keep a 50-50 mix of Tabasco sauce and lemon juice handy to spray down (the carcass) so the flies won’t land.”
He has turned his garage into a butcher shop, where he hangs the meat, allowing it to drain for a couple of days before he grinds and packages it for distribution. One large moose can provide up to 350 pounds of processed ground meat, Harrell noted. “It’s a prized meat, particularly among the native elders,” he said. “Some of the elders even want parts that others don’t, like the head and the liver.”
Roadkill makes up only part of the church’s benevolence ministry. Alaska’s indigenous people also welcome the fresh salmon caught by sportsmen from the church, as well as the caribou they hunt and the wild blueberries they pick. The church also distributes canned goods and staples provided through an area food bank.
“Anyone who comes to ask for help, we serve,” Harrell said. “We have some people who live in the woods or on the streets who come to us. It’s our way to open the door for ministry. It’s a real witnessing opportunity.” (ABP)
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