Mycoprotein

 It's been about a year since I've eaten any meat.  Not that I'm a vegan--I'm not, but I want to dramatically limit my consumption of animal flesh. (Boy, don't my friends hate it when I call it what it is!)  

Why?

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS, "Mormon"), we were given instruction by God to "use meat sparingly, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine". 

Yea, flesh also of beasts and of the fowls of the air, I, the Lord, have ordained for the use of man with thanksgiving; nevertheless they are to be used sparingly; And it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine.”  Doctrine and Covenants 89: 12 and 13

In another place in the Doctrine & Covenents, we are told that we will be held accountable for every death.  

    Wo be unto man that sheddeth blood or that wasteth flesh and hath no need.” (D&C 49:21.)’

I occasionally find myself hankering for sausage and pepper, or sausage and onions, or even sausage and sauerkraut, and I have Field Roast Sausages, a vegan alternative, in the freezer,but it lacks that extra oomph.

I love mushrooms, and this has been a particularly good mushroom year.  I've harvested chicken of the woods and oyster mushrooms, been given wild maitake mushrooms, use shiitake mushrooms in my dog's diet, and today I'll probably check the oyster mushrooms that I saw growing just a few days ago.  I like the texture of mushrooms as well as the taste and they are the closest thing to meat protein I've found.  

I occasionally use organic TVP, but it's just not the same, so I was excited to find a podcast this morning about mycoprotein grown on potatoes.  It's called Rhiza, and it looks like meat.  How it tastes is another question.  I'm hoping to get a sample and I'm hoping to be pleased. It's made from fungi fermented with potatoes and harvested within 24 hours, so yes, it's a processed food, but it appears to be an easily produced food.  Frankly, it sounds like a much better alternative than Bill Gates' "impossible burger", which is made with genetically engineered soy.  (No, thank you, Mr. Gates, I don't want to be part of your great experiment, not this one or any other.)

I'm looking forward to trying this, and I'll report back.  I plan to write much more often now that winter is reaching its fingers my way.  

 

Rabid!

 

Yesterday was exciting. Late morning I let Chance outside. A few minutes later Shawn looked out the kitchen window and remarked, "Chance has something cornered under the car. He's dancing all over the place....It's a raccoon."

Knowing that raccoons can do a number on dogs, I called him in. Such a good boy, he came right away! In a few minutes, Shawn went outside and squatted down next to the car. The raccoon had not moved. After watching for a bit, he came in and said, "Call the game warden. That raccoon is sick, and he's not looking very good. He has foam dripping from his mouth." Rabid raccoon. Late stage rabies causes the throat to constrict so they can't swallow, and saliva has nowhere to go but out.

 

I called Maiine Fisheries and Wildlife, and was switched to a phone number that told me to call someone else. That person told me she was in fisheries and didn't know how to get ahold of a game warden. Back to square one. I called Waldo County Sheriff's Department and Dispatch (bless her little heart) placed a call to the game warden and said to look for their call. First, though, she had to ask me some covid questions. Really? I think rabies is far deadlier than covid! This covid nonsense has reached the ridiculous.

 

In the meantime, the raccoon had been wandering all over the place. Up our light pole and down again, hanging on the screen door, 

 

trying to climb up the garden tools that were in a corner by the house, roaming round and round the house, hiding under a tarp that covers the lawn tractor, back to the shed and crawling underneath, meandering past the sunroom, completely ignoring the birdseed that is littered all over the ground. That last is another great indication of rabies.  Can't eat, can't drink, ataxia,

 

After about an hour, I called a friend to come shoot the darn thing. He said he'd be there in half an hour. Finally, a deputy sheriff showed up, and of course, the raccoon was nowhere to be found. After about 15 minutes, he left, and the game warden called. Turns out the nearest one is in Damariscotta, about an hour away.

 

Shortly after, Ralph showed up. He'd seen the raccoon at the end of my road. I was supposed to be somewhere, so I got into my car and pulled out of the driveway just in time to hear three shots. Off I went to the house again to get a shovel, then back again to get a couple of big paper bags, and then off again to get a plastic bag. The shovel was for moving the raccoon into the double bags, and then pop him into the plastic bag. He was a big sucker! I'll bet he weighed at least 20 pounds.

 

One of my neighbors from across the road was there, on the phone with the game warden. She'd also seen the raccoon wandering haphazardly.  Since my car was sitting in (blocking) her driveway, she conversed about the raccoon for a minute or two before I bagged the animal in plastic.

 

Thankfully, the dump was open and I took the critter to his temporary grave, at the direction of the game warden.  Apparently the only time they test is when there is known physical contact with a suspected rabid animal. Thankfully, that wasn't the case.

 

This morning I let Chance out.  Within a few minutes, he was barking at something under the shed. We are overdue for a rabies outbreak in this area. I do hope it was just a squirrel he was barking at.

A Walk Down Hart Road, Where I Saw The Black Fox

 

I haven't been on Hart Road for a long time but it's a good place to walk, little traffic, paved road, uphill all the way out and downhill all the way back. At the top of the hill, a dirt road goes off to the right. I can choose to walk down it  to extend my walk or I can turn back and make it a short mile. 

Chance and I had just started out and were maybe a quarter mile from the car, when I spied an animal sitting in the road ahead of us. At first I thought it was a cat but it exhibited strange behavior unlike that of a cat.  It sat there in the road as we approached, half turned toward us. It watched us coolly, almost sizing us up. I was curious, but I didn't know what else it could be, though what else it could be except maybe a very small dog? I wondered, though, why a little dog would be out in the middle of the road that way.  There's not a lot of traffic on that road, and it is a dead end, but the few cars that travel it drive at a good clip. It watched us cooly as we approached.

 

As we drew nearer, the animal turned and trotted into the woods. That's when I got a good look at its shape. The ears were large and erect, the body lean and fluffy, and the tail long and bushy. It was a fox, but a black fox. I've seen many foxes, but at that point I wasn't sure that I had actually seen what I thought I had seen, so I looked it up on my phone. Sure enough, a black fox is a color variation of the red fox,  thoughsightings are very rare. I wish I had had the wit to take a picture, but I  was unprepared because I'd thought it was a cat. The picture below shows a Google image of a black fox that looks much like the one I saw, except for the white-tipped tail.

 

 

After I saw the fox, I decided to record my thoughts as I was walking.

 

Here I am standing at the entrance to the blueberry field on Hart Road.The rocks spreading across the way look like a granite waterfall.  Every time I go by this entrance, I want to walk into that field. I haven't done it yet, but I think I will soon.

 

 Chance is looking steadfastly out Into the woods. He is sure that there's something out there that he wants to chase.  I'm sure, too, that there's wildlife out there that would interest him very much indeed. He may not know it, but I know that if he starts to take off he will end up leashed.

The light is beautiful this time of evening. I'm passing a field full of flowers. They're pink and profuse.  As I look closely, they appear to be in the Scrofulariaceae family. I'll have to look it up when I get home. I love Maine, I feel so blessed to live here. I can do without the winters but if I had to choose between city all year round in the South in a perfect climate, or Maine with its winters and me having to stay here, I would choose Maine.

 Before we left the car, I  turned my app on to find out how far I'm walking today. I'm guessing it's going to be close to two miles but I'm not sure. Whatever it is, it's a good walk. There are so many late season flowers around.

 Om our way back, I notice blackberry bushes. The blackberries are small and hard this year . There wasn't enough rain for them to fill out with juices. 

Chance is trailing behind me. I wish he wouldn't do that. I'd much rather see him in front of me so I can keep an eye on him. At least then if something catches his eye,  I can catch him. Truth be told, though, if I hear a squirrel, I look around to find Chance, because chasing squirrels is one of his favorite pastimes.

 I should be carrying my field glasses with me, I just saw a small bird flying right in front of me only a few feet away. He swooped, reversed course and swept around a tree, landed on a branch on another tree. After sitting there for a moment, he then took off again. I think it was a nuthatch but I'm not sure because I just can't see well enough without those binoculars.

Now I'm coming to a private road that is blocked by a gate every time I come here I want to walk down that road, or rather up that road Iwant to see what's on the other side. Maybe one day I'll run into the owner, maybe1one day I'll get the opportunity to walk up that road. In the meantime it's on my bucket list.One of my dreams.  I'm always curious what's at the end of the road.

 Just as I was thinking that I haven't seen any purple flowers which I associate with fall, I came across several bushes with purple aster. Hallelujah! Fall isn't fall without purple flowers.

 We're back at the car. My estimate was very close, 1.9 miles. It's getting  dark. Tme to go home.

An Evening Walk

It's been a long time since I blogged, but my walk this evening felt so good that I wanted to share it.

Maine is beautiful in the summer and fall.  As I walked today, I found myself appreciating the natural world that is so much a part of rural Midcoast Maine.

Stone walls are everywhere, a reminder that "Good fences make good neighbors".

A reminder, too, of just how many rocks came out of fields when plowing in the early days. Maine grows rocks, heaving them out of the ground in the spring when frost thaws.

 Dead and dying trees become home for grubs and insects, and in turn, feeding grounds for woodpeckers. Slowly the wood returns to the earth as it crumples.  The patterns are marvelous, mysterious holes begging to be considered.

A late Scotch Bluebell blooms next to a dying tree. I was surprised to see it there.  They usually bloom in July.

The blueberry field always offers a spectacular view of the bay, making it one of my favorite spots.

It's fascinating how the ripe grasses take on a feathery aspect as we move into fall. 

The last of the blueberries.  The harvesters came very late this year. I wasn't sure they were coming at all, but they appeared the last week of August, rushing in one day and gone the next.

This patch escaped their notice, probably because it was on the edge of the opposite field, which was fallow this year so escaped notice.  There are many varieties of wild blueberries in Maine, some very dark, almost black, and some the familiar blue that we associate with "real" blueberries. These are falling off the bush, ripened and left behind for birds and wildlife, and sometimes the occasional gleaner.

When I see the string left behind by the harvesters, I worry that small animals can become entangled.  I think tomorrow I'll go back with a knife and a spool to collect as much as I can.

It's easy for the unwary to be fooled.  These are not blueberries, not even in the same family. Alder Buckthorn are native to England but are found in North America. The plant is prized for use as hedgerows, but can be used medicinally as well.

 

Granite is everywhere in New England. The frost heaves that grow stones in Maine also break granite into pieces. The result is fascinating and beautiful, Earth's sculpture.                                    

 

 

Pyrotechnics

        My friend Laura Tasheiko called me a couple of days ago to come join her for a bonfire in her yard.  She had several piles of brush and the day was mild with little wind.  Off we went.  Maddie was so happy to have a playmate, and she and Chance ran together, exploring the woods, for a good hour, until Chance decided he just wanted to hang out with the humans--and Maddie decided to go exploring by herself. 

Maddie and Chance had a great time running and playing...

After a while, their interests varied.

        Laura and I dragged fodder for the fire from the brush piles (she did a lot more than I did), and I found some very dry sticks that I snapped up (literally) for kindling.  I had to fight Maddie for them, though, because she loves to play with sticks and kept running off with them.  Worse, Chance decided he wanted to check out the new play toy.  No!  I do not need a dog that gets splinters in his mouth!

Chance guarded the bonfire...but at a distance.

Once dry leaves or fir needles caught fire, the flames became quickly spectacular.

           Laura’s friend Leslie and her friend Martin came over a while later, and then we all got involved.  By the time I left around a quarter to four, there were two bonfires and a good chunk of the brush piles had been consumed.  Our inner pyromaniacs had been well satisfied.

At first Martin helped feed the first bonfire...

...but eventually he and Laura started another, all the quicker to get the brush burnt.

 

And we kept adding to the original.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the road again.

           Even before I moved out of Unity, I had a housesitting job lined up in Pennsylvania.  Basically, it’ll pay for my expenses there and back, but I get to spend Thanksgiving with Valerie and Jack again, and take care of Duke, the Carolina Dog, again.  Yes, that’s a real breed of dog, though it was new to me when I first met Duke last spring, the first time I housesat here.

 

           So, on Tuesday morning I left Maine, knowing that I would have to stop half-way and spend the night somewhere, because I just can’t drive at night anymore.  Couchsurfing to the rescue!  This is a site that I joined when it first went online years ago, and I’ve both hosted and been a guest.  It’s a great way to meet new and very interesting people.  My host for Tuesday night was Ruthy, who co-owns a huge house in Northampton, Mass, and shares it with multiple housemates and guests.  With an easy smile, and a good conversationalist, she turned out to be hugely interesting, not in the least because I never was sure of her gender.  I mean, she had a small beard, a slim but not-very-curvy body, and there was a book about using gender-neutral language on the table when I got there.  She and 17 others run a business called “Pedal People”, and they collect trash from people and take it to the transfer station for a fee.  They do this using bicycles, and it was fascinating to watch. 

 

           Ruthy comes from Kentucky and her father raised Saanen and Sable-Saanen goats.  How’s that for a small world?  We talked about ADGA and Saanens and Sables for a bit, and then moved on to vaccines.  Turns out Ruthy has a radio show every Wednesday and she asked if she could interview me for the show.  We discussed vaccine safety and lack of testing, the VAERS system, and the 1986 law that gave vaccine manufacturers a free pass.  I’m curious how it was received, as anyone questioning vaccines is usually viciously attacked.  Vaccination is now in the category of religion, and woe to anyone who questions the doctrine.

 

           The next morning, on to Pennsylvania and my cousin Val’s.  I spent the night and stayed for Thanksgiving dinner.  And what a dinner it was!  Jack, Valerie’s husband, is the chief cook and he is a very good cook.  I had brought with me three kinds of cheese (two of which I made), hummus, and liver paté and we all snacked on that.  While there,

I also made a paleo pumpkin pie.  Mmm.  It turned out very well, and since dinner was so late, Val and I quieted our grumbling stomachs with a piece of pie and a generous dollop of raw heavy cream, the kind you can spoon out of the jar.  Sooo much better than whipped cream!. 

 

           After dinner, I started my housesitting and, happily, Duke not only remembered me but was happy to see me.  We spent a good part of the evening playing ball.  When I reached under the sofa to retrieve a ball, and found a bone he hadn’t finished, the game was over.  He’s been carrying that bone around ever since.

 

 

 

 

           It was COLD when I got up in the morning, and it took me until early afternoon to take Duke for a walk.  That didn’t last long, about a half mile.  Duke needed to have some free time, I thought, so we headed over to a dog park recommended by his owners.  Alas, it was closed, padlocked, locked up tight.  No dog park activity allowed when the town offices are not open, apparently.  I headed for another dog park that I’d taken him to last spring.  I’d forgotten about Black Friday.  The traffic was thick enough that I headed home.  

 

        I took Duke to the Cuddy Dog Park this morning.  There were two more dogs there: a 2 year old French Bulldog and a 4 year old rescue that looked like the RCA Victor listening dog, which turns out to have been probably a Fox Terrier cross.  Mario (the rescue) and Duke played hard for almost an hour, and then the three owners/handlers went for a walk together.  I wish I'd had my phone to video their play, but I left it in the car, even though I had my purse with me.  Not the first time I've done something like that and later regretted it.  By the time we got home, Duke was played out.  Within minutes, he was sacked out on the floor.  Even tonight, he's quiet and sleepy. I am so glad I took him there!

        

A morning walk

          Having Chance motivates me to get out and go walking.  It's far too easy to become house bound, but an energetic dog needs more exercise than squirrel chasing.  Now that it's fall, it seems the wind picks up around 9:00, so if I want to enjoy my walk, I'm out the door by 7:30 latest.  This morning I decided to park at the end of Hart Road and trek down the dirt road that connects Hart with Hunt Road.  I recall driving it several years ago when it was in good shape, and then driving it a few years later when it was less maintained.  Road extensions in neighboring towns seem to go by the wayside and eventually disappear.  What has saved Hart/Hunt Road extension is the blueberry barrens that are raked annually.  Trucks and cars have to get in there, so even though there are a few rough spots, the road is still intact.

Blueberry fields in fall are a sight to behold. This picture doesn't do it justice.

           It's a beautiful walk through the woods from the Northport side.  As expected, I found a few places that were challenging--puddles that covered the entire road, places that a car might sink into, washed out portions that didn't matter much on foot but would give pause to someone in a low-slung vehicle.  Luckily Chance showed me where the dry spots were.  Is there anything better than a dog to show you where to walk high and dry?

One of the easier puddles to navigate, but I was glad I was walking and not driving.

 I even saw one pathway that veered off the road and down the hill. Deer path?  Something to explore another day.

A pathway to the right and down the hill, saved for another day.

           We walked all the way down to within a few yards of Back Belmont Road, then turned and walked back.  It's obvious that it's election time. Even on this quiet road, signs proclaiming candidacy march one ahead of the other.  Chance, perhaps making a political statement, marked them all.

          As we approached the end of the pavement to return home, I let my eye wander over a track to the right, taking in the fence, and musing on where it might lead. 

A track off to the side, just where the pavement ends, looked very inviting.

Chance was ahead of me, intent on something in the woods...I thought.

Not wanting to trespass, I kept on my way. Chance had no such compunction.  As I peered through the trees, I discovered a house just visible. 

It's hard to see the house through the trees, but as I peered, it came into view.

The house at the end of the lane.

I realized Chance was not with me, called his name, and in a minute he came bounding down the track.  No doubt he got a close-up view, but like the wonderfully obedient dog he is, he left his explorations to return to my side.  I love this dog!

          Maine has some of the most beautiful stone walls, and this road is no different.  I sometimes envision the early settlers hauling them one by one, stacking them into useful borders. "Good fences make good neighbors."  Ayuh!  I'm glad I get to admire them rather than build them.  Farming was not an easy task when the ground was such a challenge.

Good fences make good neighbors.  Having hauled a few stones by hand, I can imagine the labor to build this.

           I think we walking in total a little less than two miles.  We got back to the car a little before 9:00.  By 9:15 it had started to gust.  Perfect timing.