92 EVERYDAY LIFE ON A 



lovely small head. We had it roasted whole, 

 the flesh was white, and much resembled a 

 tender turkey both in taste and appearance and 

 had not the slightest gamey flavour. Last 

 night he brought the quills and leg of a porcu- 

 pine. Porcupine flesh is considered a delicacy, 

 but I can't say I much liked it ; it tasted like 

 pork with a soupcon of musk. One morning a 

 young drake was waddling about in front of our 

 kitchen picking up any tit bit he could find, 

 when a jackal crept stealthily up and gave one 

 snap, and carried him off before anyone could 

 interfere. Rob intends having a hunt after elk 

 and wild pig, and so perhaps I may soon have 

 more to say on this subject. 



Truly our life is such an uneventful one that 

 I am often tempted not to write at all. It is 

 just these trivialities which make up the sum 

 of existence in this remote place, and no true 

 idea of our daily round could be given, were I 

 to omit this very "small beer." Life in the 

 quietest, and dullest English village would be a 

 vortex of gaiety compared to that of Raneetotem. 

 And yet to a lover of Nature in all its forms — 

 human and otherwise — how infinitely more 

 amusing is this, than the perpetual round of tea 

 parties, which usually distinguishes village life. 

 Above all, one is never bored, at all events by 

 others, though I must honestly confess one 

 does sometimes bore oneself, and one gets 



