Long knowledge for his visions, the German Hildegarde abbesse in Bingen (1098-1179) has gained an increasing audience in recent years thanks to two more of his donations. This genial benedtine, whose long life was particularly active, is trying with so much success in music and medicine, where few women have left their names. Her liturgical edges (of which she herself made up the text and music) have been preserved in contemporary manuscripts of their author, and are plenty of play and recorded. Its natural science, on the other hand, although it attracts an ever-increasing number of followers seeking alternatives to traditional medicine, does not offer the same guarantees of reliability: Hildegarde’s medical precepts, which the public is rediscovering with enthusiasm today, have been transmitted to us by late manuscripts, which may have undergone many changes. Do the scientific writing it designs and drafts really coincide with those who came to us? Is the edition given to the Renaissance in Strasbourg leaked on the basis of a manuscript that has disappeared, or is it a nice inloyal? And if Hildegarde’s astonishing naturalist knowledge is his own, why did this monial claim to imcult that knowledge? So many questions the author tried to resolve by taking these medical treatments into spinning over the centuries: the results of the survey provide a narrative of the adventures and avatars of a rare bird, a scientific work made up of a woman outside the North century West.