The Foods Of New Caledonia

Deer, Fish, Crabs —and Flying Foxes

From Our Own Correspondent,

Bouloupari, July 16.

THE week has commenced with our usual Monday morning deer hunt.

A young man, living on our boundary, who signs himself “Chasseur de cerf,” goes up into the chain of mountains which runs through the island and puts up a mob of deer, with his pack of dogs.

They hunt this mob down the valley into our small paddocks.

The deer leap over the fences—or crash through the wires if they do not see them in time. Our dogs join in the hunt, and, being fresh, quickly gain on their quarry and pull him down by hanging on to the elbow joint. A rifle shot puts an end to the chase.

There is a law governing the chase which seems to be accepted by almost everyone in these parts: If the “chasseur” has not previously hit his quarry the

owner takes the hide and half the meat, which must be cut down properly, like butchers meat.

“Colporteurs” (dealers), who pass in camions, carrying freight to the north of the island and loading produce for the return trip to Noumea buy this deer meat, which is often preferable to beef. A “chasseur” can earn a good living, as the hides also are saleable.

All New Caledonians are very keen on hunting ("la chasse," as they call it), and frequently car-owners set off for a mid night shoot, with the aid of their motor lamps and a powerful torch. Young calves are sometimes shot in this way by inex penenced hunters who are unable to dif ferentiate the red fire of a calf’s eyes from the green light of a cerf’s.

The flying fox season of late has also been attracting the night hunter. We

often watch their lights as they cruise about in the neighbouring paddocks, in specting the neoli trees, whose white blos som brings the flying fox down out of the mountain chain, to feed.

There are two varieties of this animal.

The black strongly-scented variety is not so sought after as a lighter brown kind.

The latter is relished as a thoroughly delectable dish; and once, eating it by mistake, I was under the impression that I was eating jugged hare out of a tin.

Perhaps the glass of good red wine, which is always added to the French meal, en hanced the delusion.

This is certainly a land in which it would be difficult to die of starvation. The sea, always easily accessible, abounds in fish. This is usually speared by the natives and one sees them carrying their long three-pronged assagais as they pass to the sea. The fish inshore are always safe to eat, though several varieties feed ing on the coral reef can give one a very disagreeable and irritable rash.

The rivers running out into the sea have their crabs and oysters, which al ways bring a fair price in the market in Noumea. The natives make an industry of trapping these crabs, catching them in the mud, they hold them behind, and wind long strips of mangrove bark round their claws and feelers, and place them in baskets plaited from coconut leaves.

These baskets are made by splitting the leaf down the centre, and tying the ends together, and then the leaves are laced in and out, with a finishing roll on the bottom; all done in a few minutes.

The popinees (kanaka women) carry these baskets of crab to the road, where they are taken delivery of by the dealers, and make up portion of their return cargo to Noumea.