Truffles at Dawn

As dawn disolves the Transylvanian night tall, forbidding trunks of oak, beech and hornbeam emerge from the surrounding woodland. Bears and wolves live here and deep-seated fears from ancient myths lurk in the shadows. We shiver in the cab of the battered 4-wheel-drive that steers us past a local shepherd, his dogs escorting us noisily along the track. One resonant, silencing bark in response from the deep-chested hungarian vizslas in the back and we enter the woodland. The turreted landscape below is cloaked in low-lying morning mist and, as we cut the engine, the only sound is of silence as the dark forest wraps around us.


Released from the confines of the vehicle, smooth-haired "Matty" and wire-haired "Sisi" scope out the terrain, rustling through the carpet of dry leaves, noses down and tails on the level, at once alert, focused and joyful. They know their business and relish every moment. Cornell leads us along the forest track as morning light starts to percolate between the branches. No tangled undergrowth here; the canopy is high - oak driven upwards to match the skywards spread of the hornbeam, not wasting time or energy in side branches along the way. These are oaks beloved of carpenters and builders, straight and true, left to mature for a hundred years.





At their base are wraiths of movement. Matty is seven, has worked with Cornell since she was a puppy, and is a mistress of the art. He watches her closely as she quarters the gentle slopes, then pushes her quivering snout into the layers of leaf litter and pauses. Usually he is in time to mark the spot and feel amongst the leaves to collect the earthy brown truffle growing on buried roots. Sometimes she saves him the trouble and presents him with her find, collecting a tasty dog treat and a touch of Cornell's hand in recompense. Often she will dig enthusiastically to uncover deeper treasures. It has been unseasonably dry for nearly two months and Cornell is surprised that the moist vizsla noses remain so effective in the dry leaf mould. "It's easier when the snow comes" he offers "less competing smells, they find them more quickly".



Wire-haired Sisi is only two. In the forest shadows she disappears against the crackling leaves, camoflagued by a broken outline of silvery hair and constant movement. As if covered in tumbleweed and on a secret mission she goes her own way, emerging with earthy mouth that speaks of truffles known but not delivered. "I need to spend time with her on her own to train her properly" Cornell admits "but it is difficult to leave Matty home alone when we are going to the forest". Meanwhile, Matty is inadvertantly tackling the training of her canine companion herself. Digging into a promising lead at the base of a trunk, the two work together, but it is not a truffle that emerges in that soft vizsla mouth; it is, or rather it was, a velvety mole, woken abruptly to face its last day. Matty was not about to deliver that prize quite so easily, but Cornell guided her back to business. Sisi lagged behind, rolling luxuriously in the patch of late summer leaves, topping up her coat with aroma of mole.

Reluctantly leaving the forest to return to work and workshopping, we ease our way back along the bumpy track to the village, surprising a Roe deer, leaping over shrubby pasture and into cover. A forester for many years, these truffling excursions with his vizslas are Cornell's solitary lead-in to the hustle of the autumn day. We have intruded but we are grateful and carry delicious memories away - along with a couple of nodular truffles nestling at the bottom of our jacket pockets.

Cornell is part of a talented team helping local communities in rural Romania retain small-scale farming and traditional cultures by making them more profitable. Good for nature and for local economies alike, the Adept Foundation helps retain high nature value grasslands, working with a variety of partners including Fauna & Flora International.

The deal with dogs

Emerging into the world this week, this hour-old beagle pup is destined to be a loved family pet. As such, she will be part of a mutually-beneficial relationship with her human family - reducing their stress levels and improving their health (see 'Dogs are good for you', elsewhere on this blog).

As she was born, an article in the New Scientist reported on calculations that average sized-dogs have a larger "footprint" on the earth's resources than most cars. While debatable, that would rather pose a dilemma for those of us enjoying the health benefits of canine companions, while also trying to be eco-friendly and care for the planet. Time to eat the dog then? Possibly so according to Robert and Brenda Vale who did the calculations, although they do include the question mark in the title of their Guide to Sustainable Living.

Eating dog meat is a tradition in several parts of the world, either for the various properties ascribed to it, or as an emergency food, as some polar explorers attest. Occasionally the dogs have their revenge, as eating the liver of sled dogs produces the condition Hypervitaminoisis and the explorer Mertz died from this in 1913. With such a widespread practice what, apart from avoiding the liver, is the problem?

Well, its just not part of the deal. The canine-human relationship has grown up around a variety of needs based on the dog's abilities to sniff out trouble or point out game. In much of the world there is now legislation prohibiting the eating of companion & working dogs, even in Korea and parts of China.

Too late for this one in Vietnam, however. And how long will our ethics within this trusting deal survive if things get really sticky?

(P.S. Predatory cats however are a whole 'nother issue, and I'll return to that when I've plucked up the courage)

Crickets lovely Crickets

Taste buds tired of potato crisps or carrot sticks? Try roasted crickets or deep fried spiders - possibly a more sustainable snack on our land-strapped planet. (For recipes click through from "Biting on Bugs")

From an ancient Chinese culture that has traditionally eaten anything that moves it is encouraging to see from Jonathan Watts some signs of a home-grown NGO movement emerging to challenge the decimation of endangered wildlife in the cooking pots of the country:

"The nascent NGO conservation movement is stepping in where the authorities have had limited success by monitoring markets and restaurants, reporting sales of endangered species and trying to change the consumer culture. Among the youngest of several small groups is the Asian Turtle Rehabilitation Project, established earlier this year to save the reptiles from the soup pot. The founding members say they are trying to cross the divide between the culture in which they were raised and the global conservation concerns they have been exposed to via the internet and schooling".

Hopefully not too late for tasty, tortured, troubled turtles and their ilk.

(Photo above copyright Dr. Stephen Browne, with permission).

Biting (on) bugs

Entomophagy is back in the news.

What's news? Insect-eating is common in many cultures in central & south America, Africa, Asia and Australia. Although, to modern Luos in Kenya it is considered soooo last Century; food scientist Francis Orech found that only people over 45 knew reliably where to find bugs, how to catch them and prepare them for eating. When they do, it is worthwhile - 3 crickets provide the daily recommended allowance of iron (how about that on the breakfast packets of the future?).

Ready to buy, fry and try? Try these recipies for inspiration. Hesitating? Ever eaten prawn, crab, or lobster? Why....they eat naught but trash, hoovering up detritus. Their arthropod cousins, however, often feast from nature's salad bars. Now there's a thought... I'm off to set up my new business - insect smoothies. Any suggestions for the brand name?


P.S. In case anyone is questioning the flippant use of "Bugs" here, yes "True Bugs" are a group of insects called Hemiptera but the term has been so widely hijacked to mean "creepy crawlies" that even the UK Natural History Museum uses it!

Sweetness and Light

The excited voices reached us across the clearing - the honeygatherers were already high on a rare sugar rush, hands sticky with fresh, wild honey, shaking their heads to ward off the angry bees coming out of their smoky coma and resenting the destruction of their hard labour. This treat had required scaling the heights of the gigantic baobab where the bees had constructed their castle safe from marauding honey badgers, filling its hexagonal vaults with the nectar gathered from the woodlands of northern Mozambique.

A sharp intake of breath - we had seen that that the honeygathers were oblivious to the large "tusker" - a bull elephant in his prime, mellow ivory tusks weighing down his weighty head, swaying slowly down the hill into the same clearing, just a few feet away through the scrubby trees. In an instant, he was alerted to their presence and paused, ready for action..... swinging surprisingly athletically on his heels and making the choice to move away, lifting the dust of Africa into the sunlit air.

Why is this moment in time on today's blog? Partly because I felt the cloying depression of what we are doing to our world and needed to lift myself back out of it with some sweetness and light! Partly because the question of food security is increasingly becoming part of our daily lives, and partly through the train of thought generated by the reaction to Barak Obama calling a journalist "sweetie"! "Honey", "Sweetie", "Sugar".... all sweet names for people we like - and depend upon.

Swiftlet soup for supper?

Rather an avian flavour to this blog recently so here’s one more post that takes that literally. Birds nest soup has been a menu option in China for over a thousand years, although it went out of f(l)avour politically for a while. Now the demand from the Chinese diaspora is huge, and over-exploitation of the traditional supply from caves across south-east Asia edged the nest building swiftlets onto the CITES menu a few years ago.

One of many memorable Attenborough moments – the sainted Sir Dave, feet traditionally planted in bat and bird guano, peering into the upper reaches of Malaysian caves as the local nest collectors risked life and limb to secure “white gold”, the set saliva of the male swiflets that is meant to protect the eggs and nestlings. The birds can produce three nests per breeding season so collecting only the first two can allow one brood to survive and sustain the supply.

Sadly though, the trade has become just too profitable. Where there’s muck (can’t get that image of the cave floor out of my mind!) there’s money … but where there’s money there’s muck too. Over-exploitation, trade rackets – demand exceeding supply leads to a $60 price tag on a single bowl of soup in Hong Kong. Its big business and people will kill to protect it.

Enter the entrepreneur. Colonies of twittering swiftlets that have set up in town houses are now managed for productivity; even though some of the techniques are mean (“Midnight Music” post – 20^th February), they are cosseted as valuable residents. Have a look at these photos though – new build along the coast of Borneo is all for the birds – the giveaway is the large flat sides with evenly spaced ventilation holes. Bordellos for working birds. Swiftlet Hiltons – except its build your own bed, at least twice. Populations are increasing though, so just who is exploiting who?

P.S. And why? Chinese scientists have recently determined that the active ingredient (thought to have a range of medicinal properties) is destroyed as the nests are prepared for consumption. Ah well.

P.P.S. There is a nasty sting in this tale however. The birds eat insects from their surroundings, and not surprisingly the most sought-after nests are ones where the foraging is from natural environments. Another ecosystem service at risk?