Amy Smith Linton
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Would-Be Farm Porcupine Sighting

8/31/2016

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With the Bobcat and the tractor both roaring away a few yards away, this porcupine was sound asleep in a tree.
​When I crashed around the base of her tree, she barely lifted her eyelids. I imagine she's a teenager, probably lazing her way through yet another sunny day to the despair of her folks.


As we were closing up Base Camp later in the summer, Jeff spotted something at the other end of the field. Instead of reaching for the field glasses, we just hustled off to investigate.  

It was a windy day, which meant a lot of leaves rustling and a strong breeze carrying our scent away from the slow-moving blob on the horizon. ​
Of course it turned out to be a porcupine. Who else in our animal kingdom is going to be ambling along in broad daylight in the middle of an open field? Only a few predators –– at their hungriest and most desperate –– will take this rodent.
No, they DON'T shoot their quills when threatened.  And though I did really really want to pet his furry little snout, I kept my hands to myself.
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To What Did My Wondering Eye Appear?*

1/5/2016

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To celebrate both the turn of the season and my own return to full ambulatory powers –– she walks![Let us pause for a moment while the saga of the putrid toe remains untold.]

Phew. Even when a thing is remarkably astonishing and revolting, it does not always need to be told in full. 

Now, back to the celebration...

A beautiful day at the start of the new year, my husband and I taking a walk before breakfast in the park that recently opened its gates. It's not a "park" park, but a buffer zone for wildlife, separating coastal mangrove wetlands from the recently sprouted Homes from the $200's. There's a signboard, dirt parking, and a sandy path in the watery space between the Homes's PVC privacy fence and the big wide open. 

When it's warm, the mosquitoes and gnats will pretty nearly carry a human away.  Even when it's cool, bugs lurk in the lee. A cool and breezy day, like this celebratory first hike of 2016, is ideal.
White Pelicans
Among the birds we spot right away are white pelicans all goofy and lovely, plus egrets, wood-storks, white ibis, a grumpy blue heron, a Cooper's hawk, a tough-looking shrike, an osprey, and more. Like this bald eagle, which was scrunched down in the nest, just at the end of my telephoto's range
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And though there's a long list of wild Florida wildlife we didn't see, we did find evidence of what happens in these parts while we aren't looking. 
After about three-quarters of a mile, the path ends and we are both ready for breakfast, so we retrace out steps, the rich, muddy-smelling air buffeting us as we go.

And the silly white pelicans –– so skittish they must have been mistaken for ducks by some hunter in 2015 –– spook again and flap noisily past. 
White Pelicans


​*That quote would continue something like "...a miniature sled and eight tiny reindeer," as I am not quite over the hump of Christmas. And it's not an exact quote, but my inner pedant will have her way from time to time. 
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A Ham by any other name

6/20/2013

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I’m not a fan of ham. 

Not much of a carnivore overall, but swine?  I raised pigs one summer --–part of my colorful 4-H youth -- and frankly, they were a lot smarter than my dog.

Toby and Mr. D were fast, clever, and deeply committed to their freedom. I often needed to hare off on horseback to retrieve them from the neighbor’s garden. When anyone drove up to the house, the pigs would come galloping from around the corner of the barn, oinking spiritedly. 

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I think we all know the single word that has the power to overcome scruples and grief both. That would be “bacon.”

And now let me add: "Prosciutto." 

            Prosciutto is a rustic ham, dry-cured and tender. I ate prosciutto and pecorino cheese and bread at least twice a day: for breakfast, lunch, appetizer, for two weeks when I was in Italy. Occasionally, cantaloupe would be involved. More than once it was simply a ribbon of prosciutto folded luxuriantly straight down the old gullet. Neither proud nor elegant, but yum yum yum.

After a week of pig- and pecorino- and bread-free days back at home, I lingered at the grocery store for a long time. I suppose pre-sliced prosciutto packaged in plastic would only disappoint. And naturally, I wouldn’t find a chunk of sheep’s milk peccorino without heading to a specialty store. But I did buy some rustic boule bread and serve bruschetta for dinner. More than once.

While in Italy, I didn’t develop a taste for porchetta, which does say something about my overall commitment to pork. Porchetta falls into the category of “Meat on a Stick.” More or less. 

Pork parts wrapped in pork belly (i.e., unsliced bacon) and cooked slowly, porchetta is served on a roll, often from a food truck on the street. My mom would have recognized the texture and flavor of chittlins in the mix, as well as fennel, rosemary, salt and pepper. The result is juicy, crunchy, savory, and very meaty. Some porchetta-istas might sprinkle a few mushrooms or chopped liver into the sandwich. One of my traveling companions was a fan, and while I appreciated her enthusiasm, honestly, I just miss the prosciutto.
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They liked to have their backs scratched, they enjoyed baths, and they picked up half a dozen tricks that the dog, a wonderful working retriever, could never quite manage. 

At the end of the summer, I sold the pigs and sent them -- screaming -- to the slaughterhouse.  Not that I had a real choice, as I had taken out a farm loan for the summer. And any farmer will tell you, if you have livestock, you are going to have dead stock. Hard work.

Still, I didn’t eat pork for years. 



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