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tigeranneSo what is Edgar up to, unstuck in space and time as he is? Let's take a peek into his dastardly journal!
Day 1:
I have arrived at my destination. It's a small, derelict, forsaken farm in the middle of a wilderness. I can't see any neighbours' houses from my land, and I assume that will actually turn out to be a blessing in the long run. Because a long run is what I'm on. I have... shall we say, liberated myself from a boring little misunderstanding on a tropical island that shall not be named. The farm in question belongs to my second-cousin James B. Throttlewood. He's found himself with the need to abscond for a while as well, and I didn't ask any questions because JB tends to get aggro when you do that.
The deal is that I'm supposed to "be" JB as far as anyone's concerned. It seemed simple enough, didn't it, until I discovered that JB has been living under the assumed identity of a certain Mr. Eber Amadelius Foreman for the better part of a decade. As JB explained, this Mr. Foreman was apparently a medieval monk who got deposited into a world parallell to his own, after being rude to a Being of Much Power. Since Foreman had died from old age and natural resources a couple of centuries ago, his identity was free to a good home. When you're a rogue time-and-dimention traveller like JB (and myself) a little anachronism is just part of the parcel.
According to the list of instructions JB has left me with, things are not quite as cut and dried as this, however. He wants me to - and I quote - confuse the authorities, by pretending to be... myself. Well, pretending to be JB pretending to be Eber Foreman pretending to be me, but it all comes down to the same thing, doesn't it? Hi, I'm Edgar.
Day 2:
I've poked around all the corner of this tiny piece of land. It took me all of five minutes. My current charges are a pretty cream-coloured horse, three white chickens and a red goat. According to JB, the goat is a very malicious gossip woman(!?), and I'm instructed to keep her contained away from any piglets I adopt or rescue. Which brings us to why I agreed to this loopy plan in the first place. I have a big place in my heart for pigs and piglets, just like my cousin. Let's just say it... runs in the family. We feel a connection to these intelligent animals, who most of the world only see as future sausages. x( So I have made it my goal to collect as many of these vulnerable young ones as I can, and provide a safe and happy home for them where the word "pork" is not in the dictionary.
Day 3:
I popped by the local farmers' market to see what was for sale, and discovered to my utter delight that I had enough funds to adopt a tiny piglet. She's a Ginger Juliana mini pig, and will remain small in stature. Ginger Juliana is indeed a very pretty name, so that's what I've named her. However, it's incredibly long for someone so short, so we'll just call her Ginger on an everyday basis.
We found a stray turkey chick on the road, and have taken it in. It's probably for the best if we don't feed it any growth formula, though. Adult turkeys are not a joke. I've fenced in the front yard, and put the goat in there. She gets to have the chick in there with her, for company. I don't much care for goats, they're very pokey, but I'm not cruel enough of a man to put anyone into solitary confinement.
Day 4:
My goodness are chickens ever needy! I have to feed them every five minutes or they go all BUCKAAWWWWW on me and peck my shoes. It's not easy to grow crops when you're just establishing a farm out here. The well doesn't hold much water, and refills ever so slowly. I'm trying not to waste too much water on low-quality crops, but these chickens need feeding and I would rather not have to give them the apples and strawberries. They're a lot more filling and more economical in the water demands, but I'm trying to keep a supply of high-quality food for my children.
My scratty orchard only contains three apple trees and four lemon trees. I don't really know what to do with the lemons. The goat needs to eat, but I also need to make money to rescue more piglets, and limonade makes some money. Then again, so does milk.
I've been reading JB's chronicles, to see what insights he had on farming. Not surprisingly, there's not a lot of that to be found. JB seems to have spent his early farming days picking fights with his neighbours and going off on horrifying expeditions to hostile lands. Well, there won't be any of that around here. Too bad, really. I would have loved to go to Hulgaria or Bungary on a monster-trapping quest.
Day 5:
Two of the neighbours came by and insisted on giving me advice on how to properly run my farm. Apparently I need to get MORE GOATS if I want to make the funds to create my piglet haven. The alternative was a sheep. I went looking at lambs, but even regular Shaun-sheep are 9000 a pop. The goats are only 3000, so I swallowed my pride and brought home a kid. And that's what I'm gonna call her, Kid. Then I figured the other goat needed a name as well, and I named her Red. It's not like I can tell the two of them apart, anyway.
The amount of gossip in a confined space became too much for the turkey chick, who escaped back to the pasture. I suppose it feels more at ease around the chickens. Ginger needs a friend her own size, I think. The turkey's not going to be that friend. Not enough brain to be a mentally stimulating company.
Day 6:
So maybe goats aren't as needy as chickens. They don't have to be, do they? Because they have all sorts of advocates telling people how to take care of them! Today I was blackmailed into making their living conditions more inviting by planting olive trees for them. At least I can sell the olives for some profit.
I sold off every item that wasn't edible to my children, or any of the animals for that matter, and raised enough money to buy a lamb. The older Landlord-typey fella refused to help me unless I indulged his sheep-fascination. I named this sheep Dolly, because that's what sheep are called.
JB's journals state that sheep are motherly types, so instead of shutting her off with the goats I let her roam the pasture with Ginger, the horse and the birds. The horse needed a name too, so I called her Pearl. She's a "perlino," and I don't know what you even call horses, so Pearl it is.
Day 7:
I'm getting better at this growing crops thing. After selling off some stuff, I could adopt another piglet. This one is a "Pink Landrace Pig," which is a nice way of saying that she's not bred to any specifics. Which is a good thing, actually. Landraces are healthy and hardy. This girl took a bit more formula and work, and she's grown to be much larger than little Ginger. So even if she's a couple of days younger, she'll have to be the big sister in the family. I've named her Linimpa. It was a name that just came to me, and it just felt right for her.
It's been an eventful first week. Now I need to have a long nap, and then I'm off to plunder neighbours' yards for edibles.
Day 1:
I have arrived at my destination. It's a small, derelict, forsaken farm in the middle of a wilderness. I can't see any neighbours' houses from my land, and I assume that will actually turn out to be a blessing in the long run. Because a long run is what I'm on. I have... shall we say, liberated myself from a boring little misunderstanding on a tropical island that shall not be named. The farm in question belongs to my second-cousin James B. Throttlewood. He's found himself with the need to abscond for a while as well, and I didn't ask any questions because JB tends to get aggro when you do that.
The deal is that I'm supposed to "be" JB as far as anyone's concerned. It seemed simple enough, didn't it, until I discovered that JB has been living under the assumed identity of a certain Mr. Eber Amadelius Foreman for the better part of a decade. As JB explained, this Mr. Foreman was apparently a medieval monk who got deposited into a world parallell to his own, after being rude to a Being of Much Power. Since Foreman had died from old age and natural resources a couple of centuries ago, his identity was free to a good home. When you're a rogue time-and-dimention traveller like JB (and myself) a little anachronism is just part of the parcel.
According to the list of instructions JB has left me with, things are not quite as cut and dried as this, however. He wants me to - and I quote - confuse the authorities, by pretending to be... myself. Well, pretending to be JB pretending to be Eber Foreman pretending to be me, but it all comes down to the same thing, doesn't it? Hi, I'm Edgar.
Day 2:
I've poked around all the corner of this tiny piece of land. It took me all of five minutes. My current charges are a pretty cream-coloured horse, three white chickens and a red goat. According to JB, the goat is a very malicious gossip woman(!?), and I'm instructed to keep her contained away from any piglets I adopt or rescue. Which brings us to why I agreed to this loopy plan in the first place. I have a big place in my heart for pigs and piglets, just like my cousin. Let's just say it... runs in the family. We feel a connection to these intelligent animals, who most of the world only see as future sausages. x( So I have made it my goal to collect as many of these vulnerable young ones as I can, and provide a safe and happy home for them where the word "pork" is not in the dictionary.
Day 3:
I popped by the local farmers' market to see what was for sale, and discovered to my utter delight that I had enough funds to adopt a tiny piglet. She's a Ginger Juliana mini pig, and will remain small in stature. Ginger Juliana is indeed a very pretty name, so that's what I've named her. However, it's incredibly long for someone so short, so we'll just call her Ginger on an everyday basis.
We found a stray turkey chick on the road, and have taken it in. It's probably for the best if we don't feed it any growth formula, though. Adult turkeys are not a joke. I've fenced in the front yard, and put the goat in there. She gets to have the chick in there with her, for company. I don't much care for goats, they're very pokey, but I'm not cruel enough of a man to put anyone into solitary confinement.
Day 4:
My goodness are chickens ever needy! I have to feed them every five minutes or they go all BUCKAAWWWWW on me and peck my shoes. It's not easy to grow crops when you're just establishing a farm out here. The well doesn't hold much water, and refills ever so slowly. I'm trying not to waste too much water on low-quality crops, but these chickens need feeding and I would rather not have to give them the apples and strawberries. They're a lot more filling and more economical in the water demands, but I'm trying to keep a supply of high-quality food for my children.
My scratty orchard only contains three apple trees and four lemon trees. I don't really know what to do with the lemons. The goat needs to eat, but I also need to make money to rescue more piglets, and limonade makes some money. Then again, so does milk.
I've been reading JB's chronicles, to see what insights he had on farming. Not surprisingly, there's not a lot of that to be found. JB seems to have spent his early farming days picking fights with his neighbours and going off on horrifying expeditions to hostile lands. Well, there won't be any of that around here. Too bad, really. I would have loved to go to Hulgaria or Bungary on a monster-trapping quest.
Day 5:
Two of the neighbours came by and insisted on giving me advice on how to properly run my farm. Apparently I need to get MORE GOATS if I want to make the funds to create my piglet haven. The alternative was a sheep. I went looking at lambs, but even regular Shaun-sheep are 9000 a pop. The goats are only 3000, so I swallowed my pride and brought home a kid. And that's what I'm gonna call her, Kid. Then I figured the other goat needed a name as well, and I named her Red. It's not like I can tell the two of them apart, anyway.
The amount of gossip in a confined space became too much for the turkey chick, who escaped back to the pasture. I suppose it feels more at ease around the chickens. Ginger needs a friend her own size, I think. The turkey's not going to be that friend. Not enough brain to be a mentally stimulating company.
Day 6:
So maybe goats aren't as needy as chickens. They don't have to be, do they? Because they have all sorts of advocates telling people how to take care of them! Today I was blackmailed into making their living conditions more inviting by planting olive trees for them. At least I can sell the olives for some profit.
I sold off every item that wasn't edible to my children, or any of the animals for that matter, and raised enough money to buy a lamb. The older Landlord-typey fella refused to help me unless I indulged his sheep-fascination. I named this sheep Dolly, because that's what sheep are called.
JB's journals state that sheep are motherly types, so instead of shutting her off with the goats I let her roam the pasture with Ginger, the horse and the birds. The horse needed a name too, so I called her Pearl. She's a "perlino," and I don't know what you even call horses, so Pearl it is.
Day 7:
I'm getting better at this growing crops thing. After selling off some stuff, I could adopt another piglet. This one is a "Pink Landrace Pig," which is a nice way of saying that she's not bred to any specifics. Which is a good thing, actually. Landraces are healthy and hardy. This girl took a bit more formula and work, and she's grown to be much larger than little Ginger. So even if she's a couple of days younger, she'll have to be the big sister in the family. I've named her Linimpa. It was a name that just came to me, and it just felt right for her.
It's been an eventful first week. Now I need to have a long nap, and then I'm off to plunder neighbours' yards for edibles.
