She's a nomad. She follows the food.

We had a bag of persimmons sitting on our floor this morning while I was cooking breakfast.  (I picked them from my aunt's persimmon tree last weekend, and they are waiting to be made into something wonderful.)  At one point I glanced down and realized that she had not only found the bag, but consumed a good portion of a persimmon.  The chalky-tasting skin did not seem to deter her in the least.  This girl loves food.  If I have the nerve to eat something and not give her a bite, it is a true tragedy.