‍You can read all other entries to my Wildbiome Project Diary by visiting our Field Notes page or alternatively click here to read the first one.

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So there we go. The first month of the Wildbiome Project is now officially complete. I am one third of the way through. 

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I would like to resist the urge to either simply update you with my measurements - over a stone-and-a-half off the scales and about 2 inches off my beltline - or by grumping about this project more so than I feel I should, especially as this is being keenly observed by members of the public hoping to hear about the positive effects of eating exclusively wild food. No doubt these will come, but how honest should I be? I’ve not really enjoyed the experience (that’s a massive understatement for the early stages) and I feel like I am shedding a pound a day at the moment so my energy levels are on the floor. Where others have seemingly connected with the project in a really positive way, I feel lonely and like I am failing by not enjoying it - why though? I’m eating plenty of wild greens and protein but I am just so BORED. Due to various geographical and social factors, I am isolated in my wild food adventure and it feels like such a chore getting enough calories into me to even get out of bed in the morning, let alone start work or play with my kids.

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This isn’t a blow-by-blow account of all of my meals, toilet trips or symptoms (although my plan to do a daily diary entry that rapidly became a weekly, fortnightly and finally monthly entry might tell you about my declining enthusiasm levels), but I will take you back to my first week. I had spent the previous month weaning my way off the good stuff - processed carbs, caffeine, booze, sugar and other delicious vices - but it still hit me hard. I had plans for venison to be an occasional treat but soon found myself having to throw tallow into every meal to keep my energy levels up. 

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Those first four or five days were grim. My palate was in shock (I will never take tomatoes for granted again) and my guts even more so. Trips to the toilet were far too frequent and it was pretty agonising knowing that what I had just eaten would be through me within a couple of hours. I worked hard for those calories and I wanted to hang onto them! I’m reliably informed this was a symptom of ketosis, the body’s way of adjusting to life without sugar and carbohydrates. It is a really grizzly side-effect and possibly why all those stacked gym hunks with aggressive haircuts on the modern keto diet need to use the cubicles on a night out so much. Or maybe that’s something else.

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Told you it might get grumpy.

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Now, I am fully aware that you are reading this on a wild food website and that I should be championing foraging. To be absolutely clear: I love foraging. I love the mindfulness of it. I like the way it stops my marriage becoming TV Club in the evenings as we instead prepare ingredients for storing or eating. I even like the feeling of dirt under my fingernails from having really got stuck into the wild. It’s a thrill that hasn’t waned after so many years. And of course, I love the food. I am on record as having said that wild food should enhance modern cooking rather than replace it. Wild food can elevate a dull plate of pasta to something exquisite. It can take a 15 minute meal to new heights and depths of flavour with just a drizzle of something you cannot get in the shops. This project does threaten that though. I have already become weary of nettles, tired of common hogweed and reluctant to eat yet more wild garlic. Ingredients that used to liven up the meals I had prepared for my family are now run-of-the-mill. Oh not that green soup again, please! 

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There has been the odd triumph though: a plate of St. George’s mushrooms for breakfast; a crab bisque at a dinner party that was arguably superior to what the host had prepared the guests who aren’t completely insane; even acorns had their time in the sun with a pancake drizzled with birch sap syrup that was swoon-worthy. Instagram tells me that southerners are starting to see thistle stems rising (a vastly underrated vegetable) and I will be keeping my eye out for the unmistakable pale flashes of chicken of the woods and dryads saddle mushrooms on my travels to and from workshops soon enough. Foraging on the hoof is part of the fun and I hope our new locale delivers on that front.

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That has also been part of the tricky start for me. We moved house to a completely new area just a few months ago and haven’t had the chance to really explore properly yet. Foragers spend so much time growing their internal map of where the best crops can be found, yet I have had to start from scratch with my mental database. Sure, I can find loads of wild garlic, sea aster and linden leaves simply by heading to the right sort of habitat. These plants grow in abundance in the right space. But just this afternoon, I took my dog for a walk along a route we have not frequented since February and I was deflated to find a patch of Solomon’s Seal now past its delicious young shoots stage and instead at the no-longer-safe-to-eat flowering stage. I will enjoy that patch in future years, but it would have been such a boost to have stumbled upon that a month or so ago.

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Now the weather has warmed up and the days are longer, I hope to explore further. I am lucky to live near the coast so I can get plenty of salt marsh, sand dune and foreshore plants. Seaweeds are thin on the ground here due to it being mostly sand and I haven’t the energy or time to traipse across the vast sands of Morecambe Bay in the hope of finding razorclams, oysters or scallops. I have got plenty of mussels and cockles in the freezer though.

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So now I face May, and my second month of doing something I am unlikely to want to do again. I still want to embrace it. Find the positives in it. I’ll be getting my fishing rod and net out, exploring my local patch a little more, and hoping that my body catches up with its effort-to-energy ratio management. I have created an achievable 'to do' list of wildbiome tasks I would like to achieve this month - a successful fishing trip, hang out with a fellow Wildbiomer or two, and rejuvenate my enthusiasm at the Scottish Wild Food Festival, among other minor goals - which I hope will lift my spirits and make me feel more like those I see thriving on social media.

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And I must remember that it is important work each Wildbiome Project participant is doing, myself included. There aren’t many people in the country who could achieve what I will achieve, given the unique knowledge base required to pull it off. It's a worthwhile exercise all in the name of science. Speaking of which, it’s time to pop some poo in the post…

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You can donate to the funding of this exciting project by either donating a few quid at https://chuffed.org/project/114196-wildbiome-project-2025-jim-parums . I will also be running a special ‘Wildbiome’ event in the middle of the project, aimed at showcasing some of the ingredients and recipes that have featured so far.

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