Hey everybody, I hope you’re all doing well. I realize I have been a bit negligent with my check-ins here, forgive me. Like you, I have to work and bring home the bacon in order for me to be able to create and publish The Practical Woodsman content (believe it or not, The Practical Woodsman hasn’t made me filthy rich yet. Elon Musk has not asked to be personal friends with me, and I don’t have my own rocket company to take mankind to Pluto).
My point is that real life, and the need to earn a living, takes up more of my time and attention sometimes than other times. I appreciate everybody’s understanding. And especially - especially - I appreciate your support here on this group. It means more than you’ll ever know.
The school textbooks tell you the settlers crossed the Atlantic for religious freedom.
Some of them did, partly. What the textbooks leave out is the thing that sits in the actual letters, in the sailors' accounts, in the merchant pamphlets circulating in English ports from the 1580s onwards: a major reason people came to America was the wild game. Meat you could take. Meat nobody owned. Meat that walked into camp.
For a population legally separated from the animal for five hundred years, this was the whole pitch.
Consider what they were leaving.
A family in a Devon cottage in 1618 eats pottage. Oats, barley, an onion, whatever greens grew near the back door. No meat in it this week. No meat in it last week. There will be meat in it on Christmas Day, God willing, if the chicken is still alive by then. The deer in the forest at the end of the lane have been the king's property under the Forest Laws since 1066. Taking one is a hanging offence. The father has never taken one. His father never took one. The institutional...
