Obviously he will be nutty if he eats nuts. I can tell this by the way his mouth looks, anyway. But if I eat him (a squirrel) will I be squirrely? Or will it merely define me as being a huntin’-fishin’ (and possibly poverty-stricken or lower-class) type person?
The sender of the squirrel card writes, on October 19, 1949:
Potatoes all dug. Snow last night – ground white. Louie did some ploughing yesterday & we all got in apples this week – not many apples here – Hope business is good with you. Ella
Keeping with our squirrel and bird theme, here is a California quail. Will I quail if I eat it? Or will I be tiny and difficult to de-feather? Or will I just be considered elegant perhaps, and from the upper-class?
Seagulls are not considered good as food nor good around the farm. Horses apparently are more well thought of, but do we eat them? Not here, usually. There is a long history of eating horses in other places, though – and they are considered quite delicious. Would I be horsey if I ate a horse? I wonder.
I could be soft-boiled, scrambled, hard-boiled or freshly-laid if I ate an egg.
None of this matters to the sender of the egg card. He says, to his friend at John Hopkins Hospital:
We can beat you playing Set Back. Good Bye.
No signature. I’m not surprised.
Mice are not all that far away in thought, from squirrels or birds. But usually we don’t eat them. In Ancient Rome though, dormice with honey was considered quite a delightful dish. Were the Ancient Romans like mice?
The mouse on the card is trying to eat cheese. Obviously he wants to be cheesy. His wife is not allowing him, for she sees that there is danger in being cheesy.
And so it goes. Are we what we eat?