Daylight at the cave.
I am having trouble visualizing myself as a blogger. Perhaps I should describe something familiar. The smell of the smoke wakes me. In the night I placed dry dung around the edge of the pit. Experience has taught me that it will burn through and begin to smoke as the greener wetter underside catches. It wont burn through till about dawn, if I’ve placed it carefully. An alarm clock of sorts. The kind of thing my people would undoubtedly have taught me if I had any people. I’m here alone, last Paleolith within walking distance as far as I can tell
So now I’m up, and the coals need tending. Dung is good for low heat long duration fires though they tend to smother themselves if not cleaned properly. The ash needs to be removed and wetted down to put any remaining fire out. You don’t want a repeat of the range fire that almost cleared me from the territory.
Next, a small amount of fresh dung is needed as I’ll be out all day. Cry me a river of salt about leaving a fire unattended! I do it all the time! I do use precautions, like stones encircling the dung to lessen my liability. And I’m alone in this world! The alternative is making a fresh fire every night, and the drain on local kindling won’t permit it.
I eat cold hare and yambah, that is rabbit and a native potato. I get my #3 digging stick and my posibles bag and head out.
As to the rhubarb, the spring it grows along is far. Therefore be it known that I shall get their last. The crow’s eggs however occur along the way. Getting them home requires ingenuity. Or, in one piece it requires ingenuity. As yuck it don’t take more effort than to put em in your pockets. Yuck ain’t my type of eggs. So a contraption is in order.
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