He’d eaten some on Lyra’s sandwich, and it hadn’t been too bad. On a few occasions in his life he’d been at a fancy restaurant or party where edible flowers garnished the food, but as far as he knew they generally weren’t nutritious—his body couldn’t process them easily. He knew clover and yarrow were edible blooms, and dandelions could be made into wine. Daisies, lilies, and roses were also edible, and he was pretty sure apple blossoms were too. Other than that, he’d had more interest in fruits and mint when he was in the woods, rather than flowers—and he’d always been careful to only eat plants that were so distinct that they couldn’t be misidentified. Christopher McCandless—and countless others before him—had learned the hard way about eating the wrong plant. He vaguely remembered when he was a kid that his grandfather had told him that most edible plants could be identified—if one was patient—by watching and seeing if any animals would eat them. On the other hand, he was pretty sure birds loved yew berries, and he was also fairly certain that they were toxic to humans.