Jacqui Murry writes wonderful books about life before modern history. I am so pleased to be a stop on her blog tour. She is here to discuss two of her books and give us some information on the life of Neanderthals. So, Jacqui, the blog is yours.
Thank you, John. It is a pleasure to be here. When you originally agreed to host a stop, you expressed interest in what Neanderthals ate. So, let’s go to that subject first.
What Did Neanderthals Eat
–John Howell
Neanderthals lived in a vast swath of Eurasia, from the Atlantic shore to the Altai Mountains in Siberia. They migrated often in response to the movement of herds, the fruiting of trees, and the weather. Evidence left behind in their home-of-choice, caves, shows they stayed there for only a few weeks to a month before moving on.
Why was their lifestyle nomadic? And once we understand the ‘why,’ what is the proof?
History of nomads today
Neanderthals were hunter-gatherers who lived in an area until they ran through its resources and then moved on to a new area. They never stripped it, understanding that enough must remain for regrowth so they could come back and re-harvest. They adapted their diet to the resources that were most readily available and easily accessible.
Feeding a tribe of ten-twenty individuals (a common Neanderthal tribe size) for seven days requires the equivalent of three reindeer. Though common lore shows them as meat eaters, they ate a surprisingly varied diet depending upon whether they lived in forested landscapes, grasslands, mountainous regions, or a seaside (where they ate fish, mollusks, seals, and even dolphins). In Southern Europe–like Germany, where they were first discovered–they ate lots of crabs, clams, fish, and seabirds.
What did they eat?
Specifics of what they ate comes from analyzing their teeth, bones, scat, and fragments in their living spaces. Here’s a partial list: meat, birds, groundhogs, rats, mushrooms, plants, nuts, fruit, nuts, tubers, grasses, cattails, insects, moss, seafood, and other foods that varied depending on location.
When they ate meat, killing and processing were systematic, not a free-for-all. They were savvy enough to know and value the richest parts of the animal–internal organs, eyes, tongue–but used all parts. For example, fat for its purposes, tendons for cordage, and gut sacks for bags. They liked sweet flavors, so were happy to find honey to add to their diet.
At this point in human evolution, food was eaten raw and cooked. Often, the food Neanderthals ate required careful preparation and benefited from the addition of spices and herbs. Many leftovers and scraps were combined into stews. Their expertise in cooking foods was so advanced that we now consider it a strong indicator of their intelligence, akin to modern man.
How did they eat?
Eating large pieces of meat was done by holding a chunk between their teeth and cutting some off with a cutter, then passing the large piece on to the next person around the fire. Leaves were used as plates and then eaten. Bark was also used and then repurposed as tinder for fires. They didn’t use utensils. Neanderthals threw away nothing they could use.
At one point, scientists thought the reason Neanderthals became extinct was because large game disappeared. When we came to understand that Neanderthals were omnivores like you and I, this theory fell out of favor.
There’s a lot of interesting information on how Neanderthals cooked their meals, but I’ll save that for the article on that subject.
Blurbs
Savage Land is the third prehistoric man trilogy in the series, Man. Vs. Nature.Written in the spirit of Jean Auel, Savage Land explores how two bands of humans survived one of the worst natural disasters in Earth’s history, when volcanic eruptions darkened the sky, massive tsunamis crossed the ocean in crushing waves, and raging fires burned the land. Each tribe starring in the story considered themselves apex predators. Neither was. That crown belonged to Nature and she was intent on washing the blight of man from her face.
In Endangered Species, Book One of the trilogy, Yu’ung’s Neanderthal tribe must join with Fierce’s Tall Ones—a Homo sapiens tribe–on a cross-continent journey that starts in the Siberian Mountains. The goal: a new homeland far from the devastation caused by the worst volcanic eruption ever experienced by Man. How they collaborate despite their instinctive distrust could end the journey before it starts or forge new relationships that will serve both well in the future.
In Badlands, Book Two, the tribes must split up, each independently crossing what Nature has turned into a wasteland. They struggle against starvation, thirst, and desperate enemies more feral than human. If they quit or worse, lose, they will never reunite with their groups or escape the most deadly natural disaster ever faced by our kind.
Join me in this three-book fictional exploration of Neanderthals. Be ready for a world nothing like what you thought it would be, filled with clever minds, brilliant acts, and innovative solutions to potentially life-ending problems, all based on real events. At the end of this trilogy, you’ll be proud to call Neanderthals family.
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular prehistoric fiction saga, Man vs. Nature which explores seminal events in man’s evolution one trilogy at a time. She is also author of the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers and Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. Her non-fiction includes 100+ books on tech into education, reviews as an Amazon Vine Voice and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics.
Chapter 1 of Endangered Species, 75,000 years ago, What we call Germany today.
Jun was lost. Again. He gripped his thick-shafted spear in one hand, throwing stones in the other, and brushed aside the prickle of fear that flooded his body.
It wasn’t being alone that worried him. This was his first time hunting with the clan. He’d wanted to do well.
Initially, Jun had kept pace with the hunters, his strides long and easy, eyes firmly locked on the back of the male in front of him, but—as too often happened—he became distracted by a bird’s call and wandered off to find it, maybe talk to it. Someone shouted his name, far away and so muted, he barely heard it. He didn’t respond, of course. Upright voices would frighten the bird if it hadn’t already fled. He hunkered into the underbrush, reduced his breathing, and squatted there long … longer … but the bird fell silent.
I’ll look for it next time I’m out here.
He stood. Feet spread, ears perked, he twisted around, and to his horror, didn’t recognize where he was. Nor did he hear the sounds of his fellow hunters moving along Deer’s trail.
I wandered farther than I intended, and hurried away, through the leaves and dirt, hoping to find Deer’s trace or his clan’s prints, but found neither so he shouted. The sound echoed harshly through the trees.
No response.
They can’t be far. By now, they must know I’m not with them.
He hugged his arms around his chest, suddenly cold, and tilted his head up. Sun had moved, a lot. Instead of worrying him, it comforted him.
I’ll stay here until they return.
He crouched, picked at the forest’s hearty overgrowth, ate a few worms, and waited. No one came. He called several times, but all he heard were insects, a snake slithering, and squirrels chattering.
I’ll go where Deer is.
He knew where the herd headed because he’d followed it several times to where it ate the fresh young grasses, safe, it thought, from prying eyes. He trotted down what he hoped would end up their trail, searching for trace, listening for the rustle of hide-covered bodies passing through dense brush carrying carcasses. Finally, later than expected, he found Deer’s path, but they didn’t stop in their usual place. They must have known they were being stalked—the hunters were noisy—and trotted into a scree pile as though knowing that would conceal prints, which it did. Jun could either keep wandering until he re-located the clan’s path or make his way back to the camp.
He checked Sun, but it was now hidden by clouds.
He crouched, comfortable in his waiting. No one would be surprised. He often returned late with tales of an excursion rather than armloads of meat to feed the clan. The group would have ejected him, forcing him to make his way alone, but his mother was the clan healer and wouldn’t allow it. She was training him to take over when her stiff joints and failing eyesight meant she could no longer fulfill her duties. He had no interest in illnesses, but understood he must fulfill some duty or lose the tribe’s protection. As a result, he assisted her if he couldn’t avoid it and learned enough about herbs and mulches and poultices to be tolerated.
None of which helped him now.
I can’t wait, and scrambled up a hillock, found a landmark he knew, and headed toward it along a debris-laden forest floor, head up, eyes shut to concentrate on a panoply of delightful odors. He heard the hiss but as background noise to his meandering daydreams. By the time it stiffened his hackles and his eyes popped open, it was too late.
Snake!
Jun stabbed with his spear, to frighten not kill, but missed. Snake didn’t. A blur of movement and pain seared through Jun’s body. He collapsed with a thud and Snake slithered away. Jun attempted to stand and crumpled.
I’ll crawl along the path. The hunters will see me on their way back. Sweat broke out across his forehead. As will predators.
He scuttled into the dirt-clotted root ball of a towering tree, sharing the cozy space with worms, slugs, and spiders.
I’ll call out if I hear someone.
He tamped down the pain and dug through his shoulder sack. No surprise, he forgot to restock his treatments. He tried to blink the dust from his eyes and then rubbed, using the cleanest part of a grubby finger. He mulled over what to do as his ankle swelled bigger than his calf and heat flushed through his body. Everything around him spun and his eyes drooped. The more he strained to think, the more his head throbbed. He tucked his legs against his chest and imagined Snake’s poison infecting his insides.
How do I stop it before it stops me?
He solved it by passing out.
The scrape of a foot awoke Jun. Every part of his body hurt, but he managed to crack one eye. An Upright female not his kind strode toward him, a spear in one hand and a blistering frown on her face. He should say something, but his mouth was too dry.
She acts like she knows me.
He tried to rise, but no part of his body cooperated so he stared at her, worried and somewhat disturbed by the dark fury she directed at him.
Why is she so angry? I’ve done nothing to her.
Seeing his swollen red ankle did nothing to soften her attitude. Disgust washed over her in waves and her fists clenched a rough-hewn lance so tightly, the whites of her knuckles gleamed.
There is something familiar about her….
She had the small skull, long limbs, and narrow torso of a Primitive, lacking the musculature common to Jun’s kind. And it hit him.
“Xhosa?”
She growled in response, a sound so like hatred, he would have pulled back if the tree trunk didn’t stop him.
The female Xhosa visited his dreams often and they got along well. They discussed topics no one shared his interest in—where the herds went during their migrations, why Spider’s thin silken strands were so strong, why Sun left if Moon arrived. Did one orb fear the other or had they arranged to share the sky in this way? These types of curious queries annoyed everyone in his tribe, but excited Xhosa.
“Why are you here? I only see you in dreams.” He squiggled, attempted to stand, and collapsed. “Am I dreaming?”
“No, Shanadar. You have forced me to come in person. Night is approaching. It is not safe to be out here alone. Return to your homebase. I have plans for you and being eaten by Cat isn’t one of them.”
Her lips didn’t move nor were her words the clan’s, but he understood what she said. He wanted to ask why she cared if the night stalkers ate him, but what he said was something else entirely.
“Snake poisoned me.”
Shock flashed through her eyes and she scowled. “I see. You won’t be leaving on schedule.”
His head spun, started to ask what schedule, but stopped himself. Whatever the answer no longer mattered.
“Xhosa. Snake killed me. Well, there are treatments for Snake’s venom, but I didn’t bring them. Mother has them, but I can’t get to her fast enough. And the hunters—I don’t know what happened to them. They should have come by now….”
His voice trailed off. Talking exhausted him. Still, he owed her one more explanation. “Whatever your plan, it can no longer include me.”
She dismissed him with a flip of her fingers. “You’re not going to die, Shanadar. Come. My kith can take care of you.”
“Shanadar,” he mumbled. “She keeps calling me Shanadar.” She didn’t explain why and he didn’t ask. Or mind.
But he did ask about kith as Xhosa yanked him to his feet—foot, the injured one dangling uselessly above the ground—encircled her arm around his waist and draped his around her shoulder before replying.
“You call your group a clan. Ours is kith. The Tall Ones are a band, the Canis Pack.”
Tall Ones? He tried to make sense of her answer, but the words got lost in his muddy thoughts.
I’ll ask later.
They slid through the forest, well beyond his clan’s area and Deer’s favorite eating spots, past a tree tall enough to touch Sun. He’d never seen it before. Did it just grow? Soon, they reached a gathering of Primitives the size of Jun’s clan crouched by an overhang. All had low foreheads, prominent brow ridges, and body shapes like a shorter version of the tall slender strangers who occasionally passed through the clan’s territory—
That’s who she called Tall Ones!
The kith members wore long wraps or capes like Xhosa’s, unsewn, as though they simply cut a hole in a pelt big enough for their head to push through. No capes or wraps, and foot coverings were fur or bark strapped to feet.
But the dark, deep eyes, fixed on the new arrival, shone with intelligence. They blinked a greeting before resuming their work.
“They expected us?”
“No. They have adjusted to strangers trailing in here with me.”
Jun’s eyes popped open. “Other Uprights?”
She chuckled, the first smile he’d seen from her since she showed up. “Usually pawed and tailed.”
He had no idea what to ask about that and didn’t bother trying. Ignoring the growing ache in his leg took all his energy. She has much to explain, but it will wait until I recover.
Xhosa pushed him gently toward a boulder. “Crouch there.”
He collapsed. His good leg was numb. Even if she hadn’t told him to rest, he couldn’t have gone farther. The relief to his pounding ankle was overwhelming. He stilled his entire body, his breathing shallow as another Primitive approached, holding supplies eerily similar to those Jun’s mother carried. Then, before he could blink, she cut across Snake’s puncture and squeezed. He started to scream, but stopped because he felt nothing. The poison dried up and Xhosa scrubbed the puncture. Once she deemed it clean, she applied moss to suck out new impurities, as his mother would. All Xhosa’s ministrations were like his mother’s except Xhosa’s didn’t hurt. Mother’s always did.
Xhosa rotated back on her heels with a grunt of either satisfaction or hopelessness. Jun was too hot, tired, and sick to care.
She stood. “I will deposit you where I found you. You will awake groggy, feeling unwell, but you will be fine.”
Today, I randomly opened a proof copy of soon to be published Detour on the Eternal Road to page 150. With my eyes closed, I pointed to the page. The word “stories” was closest to my finger and is the prompt.
“That’s impossible. You’ve seen so much and have been all over the world. There has got to be one you haven’t told.”
“Well, let me think.”
“Oh, goodie.”
“Have I told you about the time I avoided capture by an enemy?”
“I don’t think so. Start it, and I’ll interrupt if you have.”
“Okay. Once upon a time—”
“Hold it. Heard that one.”
“I was just setting the scene.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“Who is the storyteller here anyway?”
“I’m sorry, go ahead.”
“I was minding my business and going into the pantry for a snack.”
“Lots of good stuff in there.”
“Excuse me.”
“What?”
“You want to tell the story.”
“No, but it does take you a while to get to the point.”
“Okay, then the point was there was this large chunk of cheese sitting on a wooden platform with some kind of spring-loaded metal apparatus held by a rod connected to where the cheese sat.”
“So it was a mouse trap.”
“How do you know?”
“Duh. There’s the internet, Dad.”
“So there I was, getting hungry and not knowing what to do.”
“So you grabbed something and threw it on the cheese, which sprung the trap, and you had a delightful meal.”
“So much for the story. I guess you heard it before.”
“Not really, it’s just what I would have done.”
“At least you know what to do if you are in the same circumstance.”
Today, we are going to the Lakeway pool to witness the annual polar plunge, a January tradition. We are catered by Eberly of Austin, and our entertainment is Foreigner.
It is the New Year, and the coffee machine has been working overtime on special coffee requests. With a visit of Son and daughter, there were lattes, flat whites, and dark black coffees. It’s the little things that make a visit so lovely. The machine had a few days off, so it delivered my cup in record time. Taking a sip while cuddled next to Twiggy and Tempest was a short-lived moment of peace. The Westminster chimes uprooted the sleeping dogs, and like the rule states, they should have been left to lie.
Feeling the tiny droplets of blood from shattered eardrums, it is imperative to silence the hounds of Baskerville. A large Benny bone tossed into the bedroom, followed by a slamming door, settled the matter.
Of course, the security system needed to be disengaged before going to the door. The control panel made the process simpler. The boiling oil vats were put on standby, the Trebuchet on safety, the concertina wire rolled, the Claymore mines reset, the tower Gattling guns disengaged, the moat net dropped, and the IUDs and shoulder-held rockets put away. The locks on the door were thrown. The final camera check picked up the image of a guy with a shotgun who looked very much like Elmer Fudd. The AI message was delivered, followed by the snarl of a sabertoothed tiger. “Put down the shotgun.”
He dropped it and threw his hands in the air. The door opened, and he said, “No wabbit, just this message from Linda Hill.” Giving him a hands-down motion allowed the message to pass. “Take your gun and go.”
The Fudd lookalike disappeared around the house. The message was clear. Your prompt for #JusJoJan the 11th and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “It’s the little things.” Take whatever the phrase “it’s the little things” brings to mind and use it in your post. Have fun!
“Since this is my first Saturday post this year, and my friend Dan, who passed away in 2024, loved the security dismantling stuff, I decided to do it.”
“I hope he enjoyed it.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“It’s the little things that mean the most.”
“You have become a philosopher?”
“No. I just thought it was a great place to toss in the prompt.”
“Yeah, that makes more sense.”
“So, how was your time off?”
“It was great. Got a lot of visiting in and had some great food.”
“That is always good.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Speaking of good.”
“Here it comes.”
“Whaddya say to a few Voo Doo Rangers?”
“I missed last week, so they sound pretty good. Uber?”
“Right over there.”
Photo by Dan Antion
“Okay, this is weird.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We don’t get that much snow where we are in Texas.”
Research team makes surprising discovery after planting multiple crops in the same field: ‘It’s a promising combination’
Today’s good news comes from The Cool Down newsletter. Thank you, Noelle Granger, for spotting it and making me aware.
Research team makes surprising discovery after planting multiple crops in the same field: ‘It’s a promising combination.’
Leslie Sattler,
A new study from the University of Alberta points to an exciting way farmers can grow better crops while spending less on fertilizer.
The secret? Planting certain grains and legumes side by side in the same fields.
Researchers from the university planted two perennial grains—rye and wheatgrass—alongside three legumes—alfalfa, white clover, and sainfoin. According to the results published in the Journal of Animal Science, this combination produced high-quality crops that could more effectively feed livestock.
“The legumes naturally supply nitrogen to the soil, improve the organic matter, and improve the forage quality for livestock. At the same time, perennial cereal plants have deep root systems, which helps sequester more carbon and makes them more drought-resistant than annual crops, which is important in Alberta’s dry climate,” Cosmas Ugwu, who led the study, said in a post by the university.
“It’s a promising combination that can potentially help crop performance, reduce dependence on synthetic fertilizers, lower costs for farmers, and promote environmental sustainability,” Ugwu added.
This planting method offers several benefits for farmers. The combined crops are more drought-resistant and provide better nutrition for cattle, making them easier to digest.
The research team tested two planting patterns across Alberta. Both methods worked well, but planting in alternate rows yielded slightly better results, producing about 5% more crops in the first year of harvest in 2023.
This farming approach could help build a more sustainable food system. When farmers spend less on fertilizer, food prices can stay lower. Plus, reducing synthetic fertilizer use helps clean our air and water, creating healthier communities.
The research team continues to study how this planting method affects soil health and carbon storage. It’s working closely with farmers to help them adopt these practices, which could start showing up in fields across North America in the coming growing seasons.
The good news in this story is that more effort is being put into finding more natural ways of growing healthy crops. Today’s JohnKu talks about farming. I hope you have a beautiful weekend.
“I’ll tell ya, Tempeste. This cold weather makes me want to sleep all day.”
“Yeah. Now that Dad is back blogging, you know that’s impossible.”
“I know it. He has been underfoot for what seems like a century.”
“It was fun visiting with our upright sisters and brother, though.”
“You are so right, but having Dad wander around with no purpose is unsettling.”
“At least he is back to work. I hear he has another book tour coming up.”
“Yes. It is a good thing. It’ll take him out for most of February.”
“That’s a long time. You think he’ll forget us?”
“Nah. He needs us. Besides that, it’s three weeks away. He’ll be around begging us to pose for photos. You wait and see.”
“That’s good. Hey, hold on. Mom just went into the pantry.”
“Too early for dinner. What is she doing in there?”
“I can’t see from here. I hear some things rattling, though.”
“Rattling things? Like maybe some pots and pans?”
“I think we ought to go check. You never know what might hit the floor.”
“You kill me. You know this is a split-second house regarding falling food.”
“Yeah, Mom is the quickest thing on two feet. Even if we can grab something, she has that iron grip that makes keeping the mouth closed around it impossible.”
“Man, did you hear that? There was the sound of a dinner can being opened.”
“Yeah, I heard it. You don’t suppose we took a longer nap than usual, and it really is dinner time?”
“That is impossible. Look outside. There is still plenty of light.”
“You must admit we don’t normally hear cans opening for the humans.”
“You are so right. That’s why I need to go and investigate. You coming?”
“Just give me a bark if I need to come eat something. Be careful out there.”
New Year’s Eve is here, and with it, an ideal time to wish you and your family a very Happy New Year.
Also, thank you for your support, visits, and comments. Interacting with you has been a year of joy, and I hope you feel the same.
I have family visiting, so I will take a break from tomorrow until Thursday, January 9th. Twiggy and Tempeste will be back on that date, but they will also take a break for now. I will be offline and will miss commenting on your posts. I hope to see you back on the 9th.
This post was written on December 29th, 2015. Since we are facing another New Year’s Eve, I thought it was worth repeating. I hope you enjoy it.
* * *
Top Ten Things Not to Do on New Year’s Eve.
10 On New Year’s Eve, do not try to set a personal record for alcohol consumption. If you do, at best, your evening will close early. At worst, New Year’s Day will represent your personal purgatory, just begging for relief. (Getting off your knees might be the first step to redemption)
9 On New Year’s Eve, do not set resolutions you think would be great to accomplish if you were a superhero. If you do, at best, you will not last a week on your new plan. At worst, you will consider your failure at resolutions to be among one of the many failures for the year. (Now you need to be talked down off the ledge)
8 On New Year’s Eve, do not think your goodwill to humankind feeling leftover from the holidays should be demonstrated by public displays of affection for everyone you meet. If you do, at best, most will try to dodge your advances. At worst, there will be one person who will think you are the new lost love that they have been searching for their whole life. (Now you have someone stalking you for months despite the restraining order)
7 On New Year’s Eve, do not think your stomach deserves to be challenged with copious amounts of strange food. If you do, at best, your later hours will be spent in a degree of discomfort. At worst, your stomach will get even when you least expect it. (Yes, it is two in the morning, and that’s you calling trains into the ceramic microphone)
6 On New Year’s Eve, do not think your off-key singing throughout the year will suddenly get better with the addition of Champaign. If you do, at best, you will still draw the same looks you got for the rest of the year. At worst, you will begin to gather stray cats and dogs who think you are calling them for dinner while singing Auld Lang Sine. (Better find some kibble fast)
5 On New Year’s Eve, do not think your famous green monster punch will be enjoyed by everyone. If you insist everyone try it, at best, your party may end early. At worst, you may be responsible for sending some guests over the edge due to a strong allergy to Everclear and, if not an allergy, certainly a diminished capability for strong drink. (hint: green carpet spots never come up)
4 On New Year’s Eve, do not try to surprise your significant other with a mystery destination that you promise will make the best New Year’s Eve ever. If you do, at best, you may have selected a place that has some negative memories. At worst, you may spend the entire evening lost in a strange neighborhood which will not be the best destination. (It might be the most memorable as the prime reason your significant other is no longer significant and not your other)
3 On New Year’s Eve, do not get all romantic if all year you act as if romance was as welcome as the measles. If you do, at best, you will look ridiculous. At worst, you could cause a significant upset to the person you are ordinarily ambivalent about. (How was that first dose of pepper spray?)
2 On New Year’s Eve, do not think it a good idea to put that lampshade on your head. If you do, at best, some will laugh not with you but at you. At worst, the shade is an antique given to the host by a grandmother just before her demise, and now it is on the floor under your fanny after you slipped on a bottle and fell to the floor. (Oh, though you would like to know, the video on U Tube has gone viral)
1 On New Year’s Eve, do not think you must stay up past a reasonable hour to see in the New Year. If you do, at best, the next day’s activities will be a challenge. At worst, you will throw off your sleep cycle, not to mention nodding off at your mother-in-law’s New Year’s Day family gathering. (The pool of drool on the damask fabric of the antique couch will be your mark forever)
Today, we are cruising the neighborhood to check out the remains of the Christmas decorations. This is a trigger warning that some of these images may be disturbing to those who don’t want to let go of the Christmas spirit. We are catered by Juniper of East Austin. Our entertainment is Home Free.
NEW YEARS EVE TASTING MENU
PAO DE QUEIJO – Brazilian cheese bread
CURED HAMACHI TARTARE – Maine uni, finger lime, colatura vinaigrette, serrano
CRISPY POTATO & OSSETRA CAVIAR – crab gribiche, chervil
SPINACH & CATUPIRY CHEESE AGNOLOTTI – pecorino fonduta, confit peppercorns, chives odd white truffle
SEARED SCALLOP – toasted fregola, oyster cream, seaweed oil
SEA BASS “MOQUECA” – crispy rice, coconut broth, dende oil
ROSEWOOD WAGYU NY STRIP – hen of the woods mushrooms,
black garlic vinaigrette, watercress, odd black truffle
BRIGADERIO – dark chocolate cremeux, hazelnut praline,
chocolate crunchies
Back to our old bus – Let’s go.
Poor little fella.
Goodness. Looks like a mass deflation.
I have no idea what this is supposed to be.
Another view gives no new ideas on what this is supposed to say.
Whoops, an overserved Reindeer.
That Reindeer should have partnered with the overserved Santa.
Or maybe we should all go to a meeting together.
We know pops. You’re just tired.
Speaking to tired. Wake this one in the morning.
I hope you had at least one laugh on the tour. Now, it is time to enjoy the food and entertainment.
Jacqui Murry writes wonderful books about life before modern history. I am so pleased to be a stop on her blog tour. She is here to discuss two of her books and give us some information on the life of Neanderthals. So, Jacqui, the blog is yours.
