The International Herald Tribune extols the virtues of putting common North American gray squirrel on the menu. Demand is apparently already rising:

Though squirrel has appeared occasionally in British cookery, history doesn’t deem it a dining favorite. Even during World War II and the period of austerity that followed, the Ministry of Food valiantly promoted the joys of squirrel soup and pie. British carnivores replied, “No, thank you.”

These days, however, in farmers’ markets, butcher shops, village pubs and elegant restaurants, squirrel is selling as fast as gamekeepers and hunters can bring it in.

Perhaps you, like me, wonder why. First, it makes for good conversation:

“Part of the interest is curiosity and novelty,” said Barry Shaw of Shaw Meats, who sells squirrel meat at the Wirral Farmers Market near Liverpool. “It’s a great conversation starter for dinner parties.”

More importantly in England, however, eating gray squirrel is a matter of national security — it helps protect the native squirrel species from competition:

Enter the “Save Our Squirrels” campaign begun in 2006 to rescue Britain’s red squirrels by piquing the nation’s appetite for their marauding North American cousins. With a rallying motto of “Save a red, eat a gray!” the campaign created a market for culled squirrel meat.

Nothing like fear to compel consumption, but it obviously would have to be adjusted somehow to work in America. Eat the reds?

Some chefs relish (no pun intended) the opportunity to wax on about nature:

Henderson, who cooks with both poetry and passion, sometimes prepares his squirrels “to recreate the bosky woods they come from,” braising them with bacon, “pig’s trotter, porcini and whole peeled shallots to recreate the forest floor.” He serves it with wilted watercress “to evoke the treetops.”

And finally, some are said to even like the taste.