In Australia there is a strong movement towards using bush tucker - food that grows wild even in the more settled parts. Is there much of this sort of stuff in the UK?
I remember some kind of government scheme that sent us scouring the lanes and fields of Cowling to find rosehips. We were paid (can't remember how much) per pound weight and the hips were then sent to be processed into a vitamin rich essence for undernourished Britain.
I also remember bringing home bilberries - although the first time I brought home a jam jar full of sheep shit - crab apples, blackberries, wild strawberries and other fruit. Mushrooms were plentiful for a short season.
I used to tickle trout in the becks and once used the highly effective medium of carbide to do my fishing. Ickornshaw Moor above Cowling is the only moorland where villagers still have the right to shoot grouse -a wonderful eating bird - and there were plenty of rabbits which apparently you could shoot without permit.
I once tried ferreting with interesting results. My collie Shep waited at the entrance to the warren while I sent the ferret in, then blocked off the other holes. Out came some tiny bunnies, which Shep ate on the spot, then a big mother rabbit, which he also killed and ripped to bits, then up popped the ferret, which the dog also destroyed. I think we were doing it wrong, somehow.
I have no evidence of rabbit massacres in present day Yorkshire though I have encountered people who say that they sometimes cook "road kill".
There is still bilberrying on Ilkla Moor (and many other spots no doubt). You have to get there before the brown rice lot or they've been stripped.
You can still find wild strawberries too, and blackberries, though the latter appears to mean something different to young folk nowadays.
An irrelevant spin-off to tales of bush tucker... once blegging up Ilkley Road after Sunday school, a mate put his shoulder under me so I could get the bigger berries up the wall. I slipped off through the bramble (fortunately not Wilfred)and my best John Collier was picked up to blazes. I thought my mother would go barmy but she calmly said to take it to my aunty who was a mender. In no time she got rid of all the loops and twists with some judicious selection of what were otherwise innocent looking threads.