(Continuing from Part 22)
My second year on the island began with new hopes.
I had survived the first year, built a secure home, and discovered that I could grow barley and rice.
But I soon learned that planting grain was only the beginning of farming.
If I wanted bread, I would have to protect the crop, harvest it, and find a way to prepare it for eating.
Every part of the work presented a new difficulty.
I had planted my grain carefully, using only a portion of the seeds I had saved.
When the rains came, small green shoots appeared.
I watched them with great satisfaction.
As the plants grew taller, I began imagining the day when I might eat bread made from my own grain.
But one morning, I discovered that something had damaged the young crop.
I examined the ground and found signs that animals had entered the field.
Some of the plants had been eaten or trampled.
I suspected that goats and other small creatures were responsible.
I realized that I needed a fence.
I cut wooden stakes and placed them around the cultivated ground.
The work required several days because I had to cut each piece of wood and carry it into position.
I made the fence as strong as I could.
When it was finished, I felt more confident that larger animals would not destroy my crop.
But another danger soon appeared.
As the grain began to ripen, birds discovered it.
They gathered around the field and landed among the plants.
I watched them pulling at the ears of grain and eating the seeds.
This frightened me.
My harvest was small, and I could not afford to lose much of it.
If the birds ate everything, I would have no grain to plant the following season.
I took my gun and went toward the field.
When the birds saw me, they flew away.
I waited nearby, hoping that my presence would keep them from returning.
But as soon as I moved away, they came back.
It seemed that they had learned how to take advantage of my absence.
I became angry.
I had spent so much time preparing the ground and protecting the plants that I could hardly bear to see the grain being stolen.
I decided that I must frighten the birds more effectively.
I loaded my gun and shot several of them.
Then I hung the dead birds near the field as a warning.
The sight frightened the others.
For a time, they stayed away.
I continued watching the crop carefully until the grain was ready to harvest.
When the barley and rice had ripened, I began cutting them.
I had no proper sickle.
I remembered that among the weapons rescued from the ship were several swords.
One of these had a curved blade.
I used it to cut the grain.
It was not an ideal farming tool, but it worked well enough.
I gathered the stalks into small bundles and carried them to a dry place.
I was careful not to waste any grain.
After so many months of waiting, every seed seemed valuable.
When the harvest was finished, I examined what I had collected.
It was more than I had expected, although still not enough for regular meals.
I was tempted to grind some immediately and make bread.
But I knew that this would be foolish.
I needed to save the grain for planting.
If I ate it now, I might have to begin again with almost nothing.
I decided to continue living mainly on meat, fruit, and the supplies I had preserved.
The grain would become the beginning of a larger harvest.
I stored the barley and rice separately and protected them from moisture.
Then I began thinking about the tools I would eventually need.
Even if I grew enough grain, how could I turn it into bread?
First, I would need to separate the seeds from the stalks.
Then I would need to remove the outer coverings.
After that, I would have to grind the grain into flour.
Finally, I would need something in which to bake it.
In England, these tasks had seemed simple.
I had never given much thought to the work required to produce a loaf of bread.
Now I understood how many people and tools were involved.
Farmers grew the grain.
Workers harvested it.
Millers ground it into flour.
Bakers prepared the dough and baked the bread.
On my island, I would have to perform every task myself.
I began experimenting with ways to prepare the grain.
I tried beating small quantities to separate the seeds.
Then I looked for a suitable stone that I could use to grind them.
But I could not find a stone that would serve as a proper millstone.
The rocks near my shelter were either too soft or unsuitable in shape.
I considered making a wooden mortar.
If I could find a strong piece of wood and hollow it out, I might be able to crush the grain with a heavy wooden pestle.
This seemed more practical than building a mill.
I searched for a suitable tree.
The work of cutting and shaping the wood would be difficult, but I had learned to be patient.
I also thought about baking.
I had no oven and no proper baking pans.
I could cook meat over a fire, but bread required a different method.
Perhaps I could make clay pots and use them to bake small loaves.
I had noticed clay in several places on the island.
I decided that I would experiment with it when I had enough time.
Meanwhile, I continued preparing the ground for another planting.
I had learned that the seasons mattered greatly.
If I planted too early or too late, I might lose my seeds.
I watched the weather carefully and waited for the proper rains.
When the time came, I planted more barley and rice.
I hoped that the next harvest would be larger.
As I worked, I reflected on how much my life had changed.
Before the shipwreck, I had often been impatient.
I wanted quick success and exciting adventures.
Now I understood that important achievements sometimes required months or even years.
A single loaf of bread might represent an enormous amount of labor.
But I no longer considered such work beneath me.
I was grateful for every useful thing I could make.
My little field had become a source of hope.
It reminded me that even in isolation, I could improve my condition through effort and careful planning.
I still dreamed of returning to the world beyond the sea.
But until that day came, I would continue learning how to provide for myself.