Friday, August 08, 2008


On 08'08'1856, Thoreau made this entry in his journal -
'When I came forth, thinking to empty my boat and go a-meditating along the river,- for the full ditches and drenched grass forbade other routes except the highway, - and this is one advantage of a boat, - I learned to my chagrin that Father's pig was gone. He had leaped out of his pen sometime since his breakfast, but his dinner was untouched. Here was an ugly duty not to be shirked, - a wild shoat that weighed but ninety to be tracked, caught, and penned, - an afternoon's work, at least ( if I were lucky enough to accomplish it so soon), prepared for me, quite different to what I had anticipated... Thanks to the rain, his tracks are quite distinct. Here he went along the edge of the garden over the water and muskmelons, then through the beans and potatoes, and even along the front-yard walk I detect the hint of his divided hoof (ungular)... here are his tracks again in the cornfield, but they are lost in the grass. We lose him; we beat the bushes in vain; he may be far away. But hark! I hear a grunt...'
You can read the whole story on blogthoreau.
And, always interesting, Gilbert White's diary on line @
August 8th 1781 'We have shot 31 black birds, and saved our gooseberries.'
And in 1785 'Pease lie in a sad state, & shatter-out. Gleaning begins: wheat is heavy. Agaricus pratensis champignion, comes up in the fairey-ring on my grass-plot.'
Apparently this is a champion year for truffles here. ( story via Agricultural Biodiversity)

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