Times were tough. We lived in the bush when I was growing up, my dad was a float plane pilot shuttling loggers around - he'd bought a piece of land close to where he worked. In the winter time, the lake we were on froze and we were on our own unless we wanted to skidoo 6 hours to the nearest town. My dad, also a hunter, was keen on keeping his family fed - so he'd often use the guise of our remoteness to to maybe, bend the laws a smidge to provide some nourishment. Early one spring, he was out in his fishing boat when the Ministry of Natural Resources flew in for a random check. Known to all the local MNR folks, my dad willingly greeted the couple of officers and recognized one of the guys he'd known from piloting. The other was a young, first season recruit who was "leading" the check. My dad had been out on the lake all morning and had amassed quite the haul, which he'd kept under a tarp in the front of the boat. After some pleasantries, the young officer asked him to pull back the tarp and was aghast at what he saw. Almost 30 loon. Loon are a protected species here in Canada, and a bit of an easy target for a father trying to keep his family fed. After some time, explanation and deliberation, it was decided that my dad would need to appear in court to answer to the charges, and the MNR would confiscate the birds and destroy them. Accepting his fate, my dad didn't put up much of a fuss and the young officer wrote up the paperwork required. As the birds were being loaded onto the MNR plane, the older officer had my dad aside and asked him; "So, Gary - what do loon taste like anyways?" My father looked at him stone cold and said; "Kinda like bald eagle..."