(CMO) Like many other places in the Mekong Delta region in general, and the Ca Mau Peninsula in particular, the weather is divided into two distinct seasons: rainy and dry. After the scorching March sun, when the fields crack and dry, the rainy season arrives. The early days of the rainy season are also called the "rainy season"... In recent days, Ca Mau has experienced many heavy rains accompanied by continuous thunder and lightning, signaling the arrival of the rainy season. When the rainy season arrives, nature undergoes unusual changes. After months of being exposed to the sun, the fields suddenly awaken, full of life after generously receiving the torrential rains. This is also the time when farmers can freely "harvest" the countless gifts that nature bestows.
Báo Cà Mau•12/05/2022
Catch the fish.
When the rain almost floods the ponds, lakes, canals, ditches, and rice paddies, various kinds of fish swarm onto the fields to find new habitats, breeding grounds, and food after a long period of starvation due to being stranded. The fish migrate in the largest numbers right after the heavy rains have stopped. At that time, we children would rush out with baskets and buckets, running along the edges of the ponds and into the fields to catch them. Fish were everywhere; the water was a sea of green. Those with experience would only catch the larger ones, because catching every single one we came across would be impossible. We usually only caught snakehead fish, because the tilapia and other small fish were thin, stiff, and slimy, not tasty to eat, because they had been starving for months. Snakehead fish weren't too thin because their food was small fish, and small fish were always available everywhere.
Catching fish was mainly for the thrill of it, because the fish we caught couldn't be dried, and making fish sauce wouldn't be very tasty either. Sometimes we'd catch a whole basketful (a large basket used for catching fish when draining or scooping from a pond) and dump it back into the pond. At night, each of us would grab a lantern, a spear, or a knife, and we'd follow the flooded, acidic ditches to freely stab and slash the fish. At this time, the fish's reflexes were very slow because the acidity in the water blinded them. We usually went fishing secretly because the adults wouldn't let us, as it was the fish's breeding season.
Catching field mice
When the rice fields were flooded, that's when we'd all go rat hunting. There's no other time of year when catching rats is as easy and abundant as at this time. The water flooded the irrigation canals and all the cracks in the fields. With nowhere to hide, the rats gathered in groups along the edges of rice paddies, on high mounds of earth, or along the banks of ponds in the middle of the fields. At this time, all it took was a good dog with a keen sense of smell to find the burrows. Once the dog found a burrow, they'd all dig it up, catching one rat after another. Some burrows, dug less than two meters deep, yielded hundreds of rats, huddled together.
Once you've found the rats' escape route, just set up a trap, then shush the dog to chase them, and the rats will scurry into the trap. Photo: NHAT MINH
Most of the rats this season are young, each one bright yellow and tender. Bring them home, blanch them in boiling water, and then skin them. The meat is pure white and delicious no matter how it's prepared. For me, the best is rat braised in coconut milk, dipped in a flavorful fish sauce with a few green chili peppers, and served with banana blossom salad. On a rainy afternoon in the countryside, eating this with hot rice is enough to make you want to eat until your stomach bursts.
Catching snails
As soon as the rice fields are flooded, the snails, after months of hiding underground, emerge to seek sustenance. They crawl down into the canals and ditches, their bodies overflowing with water. Snails are everywhere; you can catch a dozen just by reaching down and scooping them up. They cling to each other, basking on the surface of the water. Just an hour of scooping them up is enough to fill a basket. The snails this season are plump and clean. Boil them with lemongrass and guava leaves, then dip them in a fermented fish sauce with finely chopped lemongrass – it's simply delicious. This simple, rustic dish now evokes a sense of nostalgia in many who are far from home.
Now, the rainy season is approaching in my hometown. I'm sure that the produce of the past will no longer exist, or if it does, it will be in very small quantities. This is because, since my hometown shifted its production structure from rice cultivation to shrimp farming, the ecosystem of this land has completely changed. The dry season still comes. The rainy season still comes. But with the fields always covered in vast expanses of saltwater, there are no longer any freshwater fish, snails, or field mice like before to "harvest."
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