A friend said he had never heard of rook pie, which was mentioned here as a staple, almost, of English rural life, some time ago anyway. The rooks, of course, being young ones not yet out of the nest. But the other day the English Field magazine had an article telling of the practice as being alive, in Somerset anyway, with pictures to show the men with guns and the cook preparing the dish. An excuse is given that rooks can devastate crops, but an annual supper at Wedmore village helps to solve "this pest problem in a tasteful manner". Come to think of it, is there any reason why young rooks should be less palatable than, say, partridge or snipe or any game bird? And while some farmers welcome the killings, other point out that rooks destroy harmful grubs, too, therefore being an aid to the farmer. Nevertheless, the young rooks (old ones, we are told, are not palatable) are not all that goes into rook pie. Only the breasts of the rook are used and the pie includes steak, hardboiled eggs and a few other ingredients.
When the writer of this article, Adrian Tierney-Jones, mentioned to his friends that he was invited to eat rook pie, most "pulled a face". Several, however, remembered the time when it was a staple dish in the countryside; the "four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie were reputedly young rooks." But the rook pie is dying out in England. The writer says that, apart from the one to which he was invited in Wedmore, Somerset, the only other he could trace down was in Didmarton, Gloucestershire. May is the time. The shooting takes place just when it is judged the young are preparing to leave the nests. They are known as squabs. But "we don't shoot them in the nests, that's bad sport. . . It's easier shooting than some, but it's also good for youngsters to learn how to hit moving targets."
With all the talk of banning foxhunting in England and maybe more field activities, some rook-shooting enthusiasts, according to this article, fear a regulation of their tradition. Anyway, after a good dinner of rook pie and homemade puddings with some wine, the chairman stands up, and after a few wry remarks, for his farm has suffered, we are told, from the rook, he nevertheless says: "As far as I am concerned, I would like Wedmore to go on doing this sort of thing forever." Then he picks up his glass: "To the rook".