A loaves and fishes thing

Bill Robichaud has always been an adventurer. He was once the youngest falconer in Wisconsin. He spent much of his life in the mountains of Laos, working to find (and save) a wild animal so rare it is often called “the last unicorn.” From the snow-tipped mountains of Switzerland to the jungles of Vietnam, he has traveled the world.

But his latest adventure is taking place much closer to home. In fact, the entire idea is based on the idea of finding what you need right outside your door.

Before anyone had heard of COVID-19, before widespread lockdowns and quarantines, before stockpiling and rationing and limited access to essential food and drinks and toilet paper, Robichaud decided to experiment with the idea of self-sufficiency. Today, for more than 100 days, he has not gone grocery shopping, relying instead on the land around his rural home to provide nearly all that he needs. 

Rather than starving or eking out a life eating watery gruel, he has been surprised to find himself with an overflowing larder and an abundance of vegetables and meat. From the land around his home in the Town of Brigham, Robichaud harvests venison, turkey, rabbit and trout. From his garden last fall, he stuffed jar after jar (last fall, before he even intended to begin this experiment) with pickles, sauerkraut and other fermented vegetables. His freezer brims with frozen squash. And just as he began running out of certain types of vegetables this spring, he walked out his door and noticed they were popping back up as the last frosts of winter receded. 

The idea came to him in January, but he developed the tools and mindset to do it over many years. 

Robichaud grew up in the countryside of Waukesha County, and later moved closer to the capitol, graduating from Middleton High School. He earned a degree in zoology from the University of Wisconsin and eventually found himself working in conservation, primarily in Laos and primarily in search of a mysterious antelope-like animal called the “saola.” It’s never been seen in the wild by a biologist, but it does exist, and the handful that still roam their ancient habitat are sometimes spotted by villagers. The saola wasn’t even known to science until the end of 20th century. 

When Robichaud decided he wanted to come home to Wisconsin in 2011, he already knew the Driftless area. He had frequented his brother’s home in Mazomanie, and was fond of the surrounding landscape. 

“Where should I live?” he remembers. “Mount Horeb. I always liked Mount Horeb. So I rented a small house there. I would walk to yoga class, walk to Sjolinds. Then in 2012 I found an old farmhouse out in the country.” 

“I found a way to work in Wisconsin and travel back and forth,” he says. 

Robichaud always had an interest in figures like Marco Polo and the vast countries and cultures of Central Asia. He remembers sneaking into Afghanistan in the early 1980s, during the Soviet occupation, to walk on and learn about the land that fascinated him. There, he founded a non-profit for Afghan refugees.

“I’ve always been attracted to places off the beaten path,” he explains. 

“Off the beaten path” could just as easily describe the place he now lives. It is an old farm that dates back to 1881 and sits on 880 acres of land. For the past eight years, Robichaud has rented a home there. He began casually gardening, as well as hunting, for food, with no real goal in sight. He hunted for morels, tossed seeds in the ground, and waded through area trout streams. 

“There’s just this satisfaction you get in growing your own food,” he says. 

After decades working in conservation, he took last summer off, spending more time gardening. In the fall, he packed around 200 large jars with veggies. 

“I just kept canning, and by the end of the year I had 200 jars,” he says. 

He has squash and beans, and his cupboard was full. Then he visited his girlfriend in Switzerland during the winter. On an airplane, on his way home, he had a thought: “How long could I go without going to the grocery store?”

“I wanted to see how long I could do it, with no expectations, but I did still go to cafes and coffee shops,” he explains. “I just didn’t buy groceries.” 

“I found out that with some frozen tomatoes and old pasta on the shelf, you can make a lot of meals,” he says. 

“I’m surprised how easy it’s been,” he says. “There is still so much food. It’s kind of this ‘loaves and fishes’ thing going on.”

Robichaud says he isn’t really trying to prove anything, and he’s quick to point out that he isn’t living the life of a wan ascetic. If he’s traveling, he might stop at a gas station and grab a bag of chips or a couple Reese’s peanut butter cups. The only time he broke his rule was to get popping corn for cold winter nights. 

“I don’t have any hard and fast fundamental rules about it,” he muses. “People ask me when it will be over, and I say it will be over when I no longer have the resources to make a delicious, healthy meal, but I’m not even close to that.” 

One thing he’s been surprised by, he says, is an “absence of craving.”

“It’s amazing what you can do with a little fat and a little flour,” he says. 

So out in the countryside outside Mount Horeb, Robichaud found adventure very close to home. All he needed was a shovel, a rifle, a fishing pole, a bit of Wisconsin wilderness, and a few neighbors to barter with from time to time. 

“It doesn’t feel like an exercise in self sufficiency,” he says. “In truth, no human being can live completely alone. You just can’t survive. And it doesn’t feel like I’ve disconnected from people, either. In fact. I actually feel more connected now.”

Check back next week to read Robichaud’s account of his experiment, in his own words. Or read more at www.birdinthebush.net.