Day Fifty: A New Discovery (Part One)

Perhaps it was because I hadn’t tasted rabbit meat in such a long time, or maybe the seasonings were just right. Last night’s rabbit stew was exceptionally delicious, lingering in my memory; even now, I can recall the pleasure that danced across my tongue. As for the roasted rabbit legs, I won’t even mention them—they were all devoured by Little Black.

It was my way of compensating him. When he and I returned to the treehouse, he was no longer a black dog, but a mud dog. Except for the places his tongue could reach, his entire body was coated in grime. It took me nearly half an hour to get him clean; I scrubbed off so much fur, yet Little Black cooperated, only protesting with a few whimpering howls.

After he was washed, he became quite pleased with himself. While I was still crouched beside him, he shook himself vigorously, sending water flying everywhere. As one might expect, his little prank left my face drenched.

Of course, I didn’t blame him; instead, I rewarded him for his obedience and cooperation. Yes, his reward was the four roasted rabbit legs—a compensation for his muddy ordeal today.

It’s somewhat ridiculous, but last night I couldn’t resist the familiar scent of bananas and secretly ate one behind Little Black’s back. The outcome was predictable: not only was the green banana utterly devoid of sweetness, it was unbearably astringent! My tongue felt as though it were coated with a sour film; since I was sneaking, I took a big bite and swallowed it whole.

When I tried for a second bite, the sourness exploded on my tongue, making me miserable; I quickly flung the banana away and scraped my tongue with my fingers, hoping to rid myself of the discomfort. It was useless—after drinking a few mouthfuls of water downstairs, the astringency on my tongue was even stronger.

Only after eating two juicy fruits did I finally recover. So, sneaking food is not wise—one must have self-control. From now on, I will never touch those green bananas again.

Fortunately, today is another beautiful day, and my mood is buoyant. After a night, the leaves of the potato seedlings have fully unfurled, entering their second stage of growth. Their vitality inspires me greatly.

Once they survive, a cycle of maturity, fruiting, harvesting, and sowing will begin. They can be turned into a variety of delicious dishes—mashed potatoes, fried potatoes, braised, steamed—the possibilities are endless, making them the ideal convenient food.

Of course, another unknown seed is growing rapidly nearby, but I still can’t identify what plant it is. Before coming here, I had never farmed or grown any vegetables; I’d only tended to succulent plants, and even then, “tended” is too generous—I simply bought them and cared for them a bit.

So, I have no idea what this plant is. I suppose only when it blooms or bears fruit will I be able to discern its identity.

The garlic, too, is growing swiftly—shooting up nearly half a centimeter overnight. I suspect the land’s fertility is responsible, nourishing them to flourish.

Wasting good weather is not in my nature. Today, I intend to venture out again—to search, or rather, to explore. My main goals are to find food and to understand any potential threats in the vicinity.

Traveling through the forest is no easy task, so I plan to try a different route. Yet, when I actually set out, I regretted it; out of the woods, exposed fully to the sun, it was simply too hot.

Because of this, I had to return to the forest, continuing along my original path. I thought the woods would be less damp today, but it was just as wet as yesterday—moist leaves and soggy ground.

Such dampness, with fallen leaves, twigs, wild fruits covering the ground, hides countless insects. Each time I step down, a swarm of little bugs scatters in all directions.

At first, I was covered in goosebumps, but seeing it again and again, I grew accustomed—like someone long immersed in the fish market who no longer notices the stench.

Today, I didn’t bring Little Black with me; he went off to play by the sea early in the morning. I didn’t force him to join me—I know he dislikes these damp places.

Before long, I returned to the spot with the banana trees; nearby, a few small ones looked healthy, likely to bear fruit soon as well.

Here, my progress slowed. I had to hack through vines and thorny bushes, my arms scratched and stinging from branches snapping back at me.

Still, I didn’t stop or turn back. The path of exploration is paved with hardship. Just now, I encountered several snakes—not just one, but many.

Now I realize snakes are probably common on this island; the reason I hadn’t met many before is likely because most of them hide in the damp woods.

I avoided conflict with them, trying not to show any hostility. Usually, after a brief standoff, the snakes would leave on their own.

However, there was one particularly dangerous moment, which still makes my heart race. When cutting away vines, I typically grab one end and swing the axe to cut it.

But just now, as I reached for a vine, I felt something entirely different—a sensation that should have been rough was instead smooth and cold.

Startled, I looked down and was terrified—I had grabbed a snake. My hand recoiled in a flash.

Luckily, the snake didn’t bite me; it raised its head, flicked its tongue, and threatened me.

“Whew, whew, whew…” I gasped for breath, struggling to calm my shaken nerves.

Perhaps the snake was just as startled by my sudden grasp; when it saw me retreat a few steps, it quickly slithered away.

This unexpected event slowed my progress considerably. Now, I had to inspect carefully before grabbing a vine to cut.

The sensation of clutching a snake keeps replaying in my mind—I feel I narrowly escaped death, perhaps because I happened to grab just above its vital spot, preventing it from biting me.

Of course, this is merely my speculation; I can’t say for certain what saved me.

Onward, I continue…

Once again, I brush off the crawling insects from my body and move forward…