Big Rapids — While turkey hunting this spring, I spotted a porcupine huddled up in a maple tree. It hunched away, quills spiked in a bad mood. I learned on a mountain lion hunt in Utah that big cats love to eat these rodents, which are legal to hunt or trap year-round in Michigan. The one I shot had quills stuck in his hide. They’ll flip them upside down and unzip them at the belly.
But me? I’d eat just about anything else first.
That spiky blob yanked me back to one day in my youth, traipsing through Michigan’s woods with my cousin and an old .22 rifle. The stench of a porcupine swore me off quill pigs for life. They are the foulest thing. I’d never eat one, even if I was clawing at roots to survive.
My cousin and I were after squirrels, or maybe rabbits. If I’m being honest, we were after anything that dared to move in the canopy above or the bush below.
Then we saw it: a black lump far up in an old pine. “Porcupine,” my cousin grinned, egging me on. I fired, and quills rained like barbed shrapnel, sticking my T-shirt and grazing my cheek. Another shot, more quills. I let fly until it thudded, branch by branch, down from above.
The smell hit us like a punch in the face. The musky emanation reminded me of rancid body odor dialed up to 11. Porcupines, solitary herbivores that munch on bark and leaves, have scent glands that pump out this BO-like stank to fend off predators. It worked. I gagged, but we dragged that stinking rodent home, quills jabbing our legs the whole way.
That funk left a scar. I love wild game: venison, squirrel, and bear smoked low and slow. I’d dig at grubs or choke down questionable berries before digging in to a porcupine. Those 30,000 quills make cleaning a bloodbath, and the smell’s a gut-punch. Only a wild lion could stomach it.
I’ve gutted deer, hands slick, and wolfed a greasy burger after. But porcupines? That’s the bottom of the barrel when it comes to a survival meal. The woods offer better: rabbits, deer, and roots if you’re scraping.
This “forage everything” hype? I’ll pass. Some things belong up in trees, not on your fire. Michigan’s wilds are too generous for that misery.
But if starvation actually hit, I’d plug my nose and turn that putrid porky into a grim stew. You can eat just about anything with enough seasoning, right?
James Zandstra is an experienced outdoorsman with a passion for the Mitten State. Follow his work on X @TheFairChase1.
