Today
Today I saw a big wild pig that had been torn to shreds on the highway. I imagine a big wild pig would be a pretty shocking thing to hit on the road, as they are both large and solid. Apparently, this area is infested with them, and people can't really even shoot them fast enough (they breed fast). If I see another one in the woods, maybe I'll take a shot at with my shovel. I have been sharpening it assiduously every morning, and feel fairly confident I could behead almost any animal but a pig with it without too much trouble. Pigs, of course are tough, mean, hard to kill and have shockingly heavy bones protecting most vital stuff. Why do these journal entries always go south on me? I set out to write a nice little account of my day and the next thing you know we are attempting to club pigs with a razor sharp shovel. Some people write nice sensible journals. Sigh.
I spent all morning fighting my way through dense brush and greenbriars. I was very glad I had my machete (i think I may have to start calling it a 'corn knife' - it has a nice rustic, East Texas feel) with me, or I might still be out there. At one point, a branch grabbed my glasses off my face and flung them in a random direction. It took me quite a while to find them. When I finally got out, there was a big thorn sticking out of the side of my nose that I hadn't noticed. Archaeology is a charming job.
I spent all morning fighting my way through dense brush and greenbriars. I was very glad I had my machete (i think I may have to start calling it a 'corn knife' - it has a nice rustic, East Texas feel) with me, or I might still be out there. At one point, a branch grabbed my glasses off my face and flung them in a random direction. It took me quite a while to find them. When I finally got out, there was a big thorn sticking out of the side of my nose that I hadn't noticed. Archaeology is a charming job.