FOOD AND SHELTER
I was awakened by a shaft of sunlight striking my face, and opened my
eyes to find the day well advanced. My first thought was of the fire,
which had burned completely out. A thread of bluish smoke rose from the
heap of ashes, however, and by raking these aside and thrusting bits of
birch bark amid the embers I soon had a new blaze started, which I piled
high with dry wood. I was wonderfully strengthened and refreshed by my
long sleep, but I was all but famished, and as soon as the fire was
going well I hurried to the river for more mussels. I found a few here
and a few there, and with a dozen or two went back to the fire and
presently was breakfasting off the shell-fish. I realized that while
these would serve to prevent me from dying of hunger and they were
wonderfully welcome in my present starved condition, I would be forced
to search for something else to eat very soon. In the first place, the
supply of the bivalves was limited. They would, I felt, prove far from
palatable save when I was very hungry, and I doubted how much
nourishment was contained in their flabby meat.
Had I possessed firearms or even fishing-tackle my plight would not have
been bad, for birds and animals could, I knew, be readily found in the
woods, while trout and other fish were abundant everywhere in the
wilderness streams. As I ate my mussels I sought to devise some method
of securing game, but every plan that occurred to me was spoiled by some
unsurmountable obstacle which arose. I had often snared game and had
even caught partridges with a slender noose on the end of a pole—for in
the north woods these birds sit stupidly upon the low fir-trees and
allow the hunter to pull them from their perches without taking flight.
But a snare required a fine line, a slender wire, or a horsehair, and I
had none. Fishing with a line was cast aside as out of the question for
the same reason, with the added lack of a hook. Then a bow and arrow
occurred to me, but I soon realized that arrows without feathers or
sharp, heavy points would be impossible, and that neither heads nor
feathers were within reach. Then I thought of spears, for I knew that
many savage tribes used spears both in fishing and in hunting, and I
decided to try my skill at harpooning some unsuspicious fish or some
unusually stupid partridge. It was a long time before I could find a
straight, light stick for a haft, but at last I found a slender pole of
weathered, dried spruce cast up by the river, and, by dint of whittling
and trimming, this was worked into a very straight, well-balanced shaft
which I judged would fulfil my requirements. I tried throwing it several
times and found it easy to handle, but that it could not be depended
upon, for one end was nearly as heavy as the other and it would fly
sideways and strike a glancing blow as frequently as it would strike end
on.
I realized that a head of some sort was required, but this I could not
furnish, and rather than lose all the time I had spent on it I
determined to try my hand at spearing a fish before throwing my weapon
aside. Whittling the end to a sharp point and cutting numerous barbs, or
notches, in it, I walked to the river and looked carefully into each
pool and backwater. I saw several fish, but each flitted out of view as
the spear was plunged downward, and I was about to abandon my attempts
when luck favored me. Approaching one small pool, I gave a little start
as a great bullfrog leaped almost from beneath my feet with a loud
croak. A moment later he appeared on the farther side of the pool, his
goggly eyes just showing above the water, and, approaching him
carefully, I drove my sharpened stick at his big, green body. It was a
lucky stroke, for the frog was fairly impaled upon the stick, and I drew
my first victim from his watery home with a wonderful feeling of elation
to think that unaided and alone I had actually succeeded in hunting and
capturing a live, wild creature to serve my needs.
Strangely enough, frogs had not occurred to me hitherto, but, now that I
had obtained one, I bestirred myself to capture a number. I realized
that with my crude spear I could not expect to kill many frogs, and that
my first success was pure luck more than anything else. Many a time when
a boy I had speared frogs when spending my summers on a farm, and now
that frogs were in my mind I remembered the two- or three-pronged spears
which the farmers’ boys used. I was still hungry, and while my frog was
broiling I busied myself in making a real frog-spear. It was not a
difficult task. I had only to attach two slender, barbed pieces of hard
wood to the sides of my spear. I had some trouble in binding them on,
but I sacrificed strips of my clothing for the purpose, and although the
completed spear was very crude, I felt sure it would serve its purpose.
I knew, however, that it would soon be blunted and broken among the
rocks of the river and I also knew that in such spots frogs would be
scarce and that in muddy or stagnant pools I would stand a much better
chance of finding them. No swamps or pools were in the immediate
vicinity, but I had little doubt that I could find some by a short
tramp. I was very anxious to try my spear, but I also realized that I
must give time and thought to constructing a shelter to protect me in
case of rain, and, reluctantly abandoning my frog-hunt for the time
being, I gave my whole attention to the problem of house-building. I had
seen many a shack or “lean-to” built and had helped at the work myself,
but without an ax I knew that to build even the smallest and simplest
shelter would necessitate a tremendous amount of hard labor and would
present almost insurmountable difficulties. With only a pocket-knife to
cut the necessary trees, poles, and branches, I would be obliged to make
the shack of small stuff, and I trembled to think what fate might have
in store for me if I should break my knife in an attempt to cut tough
branches from the trees.
However, if I was to have a shelter at all it behooved me to begin at
once, and I started forth to select a site for my home. I found a
sheltered, dry knoll with good drainage a short distance from the river
and with plenty of building material in the form of balsam firs, pines,
and birches near at hand. I first selected two young trees, about five
feet apart, and from these I cut the lower branches, leaving the stubs
projecting a few inches. Across two of these I placed a light spruce
pole and from the ends of this I laid other poles extending back at an
angle to the ground.
This all sounds very simple and easy, now that I come to write it down,
but as a matter of fact it required hours of hard, back-breaking,
hand-blistering work, and by the time this much was accomplished I was
faint with hunger. I succeeded in finding and eating a few mussels, but
I had no time to devote to frog-hunting, and hurried back to my
house-building. Across the two slanting poles other lighter poles were
placed, and over these the broad “fans” of fir were spread like
shingles, the lowest layer being placed first with each succeeding layer
overlapping the last. This was comparatively easy work, for the twigs
were small and easy to cut, and by late afternoon I had a shack which,
though not by any means complete, was far better than nothing but the
blue sky for a shelter.
[Illustration: HOW THE “LEAN-TO” WAS BUILT]
I had an hour or two of daylight left, and determined to look for a
likely spot for frogs. I dared not walk far into the forest for fear of
losing my way in the fading afternoon light, but even a tramp of a few
hundred yards away from the river was enough to convince me that there
were no swamps or ponds in the vicinity, for the ground was quite hilly
and rocky. Deciding that my only chance lay in finding stray frogs in
the pools of the river, I walked down-stream for some distance,
searching carefully wherever there was a backwater or a puddle of water
along the shore. I found a number of mussels, which I pocketed, but no
sign of frogs until I had traveled perhaps half a mile from my fire. At
this point a small brook fell in a tiny cascade over the bank into the
river, and, clambering up, I found that the little stream ran through an
open vale or glade luxuriant with ferns, brush, and rank-growing plants.
The stones over which it flowed were dark with a coating of moss, and in
the deep, still pools between the boulders I caught glimpses of great
speckled trout lurking in the shadows. It was an ideal trout-brook and I
tried my best to spear one of the beautiful fish, but without success.
However, I was rather pleased at my discovery, for even without
fishing-tackle I felt confident that I could dam up one of the pools,
bail out the water, and catch the trout with my hands. But there was no
time for this just then. In the hope of finding a frog I went on up the
brook. I had all but given up in despair when I reached a second
miniature waterfall, and above this cascade I came upon a little pond
surrounded by alders and birches. It was a cool, shady spot and the
dark, black water flecked with patches of green weeds and lily-pads gave
promise of frogs. Hardly had I reached the edge of the pool when I spied
a fine bullfrog squatting among the weeds, and a moment later he had
been successfully speared. I was delighted with the success of my crude
weapon and crept cautiously around the pond, seeking more victims. Frogs
were plentiful and were very tame, for probably man had never disturbed
them, and before the growing dusk warned me that it was time to return
to my camp I had obtained seven fine, big hoppers. As I was making my
way toward the brook and the cascade I was startled by some good-sized
creature which sprang from the grass at the border of the pond and
plunged into the water. A moment later I saw a furry, brown head
followed by a silvery, rippling wake, cleaving the placid surface of the
pond, and realized that the animal which had caused my momentary fright
was merely a harmless muskrat. I stopped and watched the creature for
several moments and longed to be able to secure him, for I well knew
that muskrats are edible and are even esteemed a delicacy. More than
once I had eaten their tender, white meat when cooked by Joe. It was
useless to give the matter any consideration, however, for without a gun
the muskrat was far beyond my reach, and reluctantly I proceeded on my
way.
Presently I noticed a path-like trail winding through the grass and
weeds, and, looking closely, discovered the imprint of little feet upon
the soft and muddy ground. I recognized the muskrat’s runway, and with
the realization came the thought that I might trap the rats. To be sure,
I had no traps at hand, but I had seen deadfalls set in the woods by the
fur trappers and, while my memory was hazy as to just how they were
arranged, I felt quite confident that my ingenuity would find a way to
rig up some sort of snare or deadfall which would serve my purpose. With
my mind filled with such thoughts I made my way back to my fire, which I
reached just as darkness fell upon the wilderness. I dined well that
night on frogs, and placed my mussels in a pool beside the river as a
reserve for another day.
Much of the evening I spent experimenting with bits of twigs and sticks
of wood, endeavoring to devise a deadfall, and by dint of racking my
memory for details of traps I had seen, and by trying various methods, I
finally discovered several different triggers which I felt would work,
and, well satisfied with my day’s labors and success, I fell asleep upon
a bed of soft fir branches in the lean-to.
A couple of the frogs, which I had kept over, with a few mussels, served
for my breakfast the next morning, and I then set diligently at work to
complete my shelter, for a light shower had fallen during the night and
my clothes were soaking wet when I awoke. To make the roof water-tight
was my first consideration and to accomplish this I peeled sheets of
birch bark from the trees, laid them like shingles on the roof, and
secured them in place by rocks from the river-bed. At first I had
trouble in preventing the stones from sliding and rolling off the
slanting roof, but I soon devised a means of holding them in position by
placing light branches across the roof and catching their ends on the
projecting stubs of the roof timbers. In many ways I was greatly
handicapped for want of string or rope. It occurred to me that strips of
birch bark might serve, but I soon found that this had no strength to
speak of, and I determined to try other materials. The Indians, I well
knew, used bark, roots, and withes for rope, but I had no knowledge of
the particular barks, roots, or withes which they employed, and I set
myself to experimenting with everything that grew in the neighborhood. I
soon eliminated many as useless, although certain roots appeared tough
and fibrous, but these were all too gnarled and knobby or too short to
serve as string. It was then that I began to realize how little I really
knew of woodcraft or forest lore, although I had spent so many vacations
in the woods. No doubt Joe or any other woodsman would have found life
easy and simple if cast, as I was, upon his resources in the forest, but
I had depended so completely upon others’ knowledge that I was obliged
to seek blindly for the simplest things and only occasionally remembered
some trifling bit of woodcraft which I had seen when in Joe’s company in
the forest.
While thinking of this I was sitting beside my hut. When I attempted to
rise, my hand came in contact with a sharp stub projecting from the
earth. It was a small thing—merely a twig which I had cut off while
clearing the open space before my shelter—and to avoid further trouble
with it, I grasped it and strove to pull it up. Much to my surprise, it
resisted my efforts. Seizing it with both hands, I jerked at it with all
my strength. Slowly it gave, and then, with a ripping sound, broke from
the loose, thin earth, and I tumbled backward and sprawled upon the
ground. I was curious to learn how such a small thing could be so
strongly embedded in the soil and I examined it carefully. Attached to
the bit of stem was a mass of long, fibrous roots. Seizing one of these,
I attempted to break it. I twisted and pulled, but the root remained
intact, and suddenly it dawned upon me that here was the very material I
desired—that these roots were as strong and tough as hempen rope, and
that by merest accident I had stumbled upon the very thing for which I
had been searching. Unfortunately, I did not know what plant the roots
belonged to, for only an inch or two of stem remained, and while the
supply of roots it bore would serve my present needs, I was very anxious
to learn the identity of the useful growth in case I should require more
roots in the future. With this end in view I set about comparing the
bark and wood with other young sprouts in the vicinity, and whenever one
resembled it I pulled it up and examined the roots. I searched for some
time before I was rewarded, and discovered that my lucky find was a
young hemlock. Pine fir, spruce, and other trees I had tried in vain,
but hemlocks were not abundant, and those about were mostly large and
had been passed by in my former search. Now that I had discovered a
source of supply of binding materials, many problems which had
confronted me were simplified and I was greatly encouraged.
It must not be supposed that during these first days of my life in the
wilderness I had given no thought to making my way to the settlements.
In fact, this matter was ever present in my mind, but the very first day
I had decided that before I attempted to make my way out of the woods I
must be equipped to secure food, provide shelter, and make fires.
Anxious as I was to reach civilization, yet I knew how foolhardy it
would be to start blindly forth, trusting to luck for food or shelter,
and with my limited knowledge of woodcraft. Here, where I had been cast
ashore, I was safe, at any rate, provided I could secure enough to eat,
and I determined to make my headquarters at this spot until I could
learn by experience something of the resources of the forest and how to
make use of them. Already I had acquired much useful knowledge, and I
felt that if I could only succeed in trapping animals or snaring birds I
could start forth on my weary tramp in comparative safety as far as
starvation was concerned.
I should have felt far more confident if I could have carried food with
me, and I wondered if it would be possible to dry or cure frogs,
mussels, or other meat. I knew that the Indians dried venison and made
pemmican, which I had frequently eaten, and I had heard of certain
tribes who subsisted upon dried salmon, but venison was unattainable
with my present resources, and I was not at all sure that trout, even
if I succeeded in obtaining them, would dry like salmon. Finally I
decided to experiment, and, lacking all else, to carry a supply of live
mussels along when I set forth. These shells, I knew, would live for
several hours without water, and, as I intended to follow the river, I
could easily keep them alive by frequent immersions in the water. Such
thoughts brought up the question of vegetables, and I wondered if in
these woods there were edible roots or tubers of any kind.
I remembered many boyhood books and stories telling of men lost in the
woods and subsisting upon roots and berries, but, try as I might, I
could not remember a single one which told just _what_ roots and berries
provided sustenance for the fictitious heroes.
Berries, I felt sure, existed somewhere in the woods, but, aside from
blueberries or blackberries and the tiny scarlet partridge berries, I
knew of none which were edible, and I smiled to think how hungry I would
be if I depended upon the meager and uncertain supply of such things for
a livelihood. Once, when a youngster, I had dug up and eaten
ground-nuts, but they were gritty, tasteless things, and moreover I
could only tell where they grew by the delicate white flowers which
bloomed only in the spring. Nuts did not exist in this forest, or, if
they did, they were not ripe at this season, and I therefore cast aside
all ideas of securing a supply of vegetable food. Determined to try my
hand at trapping and also to attempt to capture some trout, I started
again for the brook, carrying a supply of hemlock roots and my spear. It
occurred to me that by braiding fine roots together I could devise a
fishing-line, but the question of a hook then confronted me and I
decided to try my plan of bailing the water from a pool before
experimenting with hookmaking.
I soon found a pool containing several fine fish, and cautiously, for
fear the trout might slip out among the stones, I piled gravel and small
rocks in all the visible crevices which connected the pool with the
running waters of the brook. This accomplished, I piled rocks across the
little channel where the brook ran into the pool, and by chinking all
the crevices with grass, twigs, and mud I at last had the satisfaction
of seeing the water diverted to one side. The pool, with its fish, now
remained cut off from the surrounding water, and all I had to do was to
scoop out the contents, leave the trout floundering about on the bottom,
and pick them up with my hands. This all sounds very simple and easy,
but I had no scoop with which to bail out the water, and until I
attempted the work I did not dream what a task I had set myself. I first
tried bailing out the water with my hands, but as fast as I threw it out
more oozed in through tiny crevices and I soon gave this up as
impossible. Then it occurred to me that one of my shoes might serve as a
dipper and, removing it from my foot, I tried to throw out the water by
this means. I _did_ succeed in making some progress, but very little,
and I commenced to think that all my work had gone for naught when a bit
of birch bark caught my eye and I had an inspiration. Many a time I had
used birch-bark dippers and cups for drinking, when in camp with Joe,
and I had seen boxes, packs, and other utensils made of the material. In
fact, Joe had once proved to me that water could be boiled in a
birch-bark dish, and I laughed to think how I had so far overlooked the
manifold uses to which the bark could be put. It took but a few moments
to strip a large sheet of bark from a convenient tree, and but a few
moments more to bend this into a deep, boxlike form. The ends were
easily secured by means of the hemlock roots, and with the bark dipper,
which would easily hold a gallon of water, I proceeded to empty the
pool. In a very short time the water was reduced to an inch or two at
the bottom and the flashing, bright-colored fish were flopping about
among the stones.
Four fine trout were the reward of my labors, and, placing them in my
birch-bark dipper and covering them with cool leaves, I set them among
the bushes beside the brook to await my return and then made my way
toward the muskrat runway to set the trap.
[Illustration: SETTING THE DEADFALL]
I did not know what sort of food the muskrat ate and I therefore decided
to arrange a trap which would be sprung by the rat passing along the
trail. First I placed a smooth stick of wood across the run, and on
either side among the grass I drove two stakes with a space of a few
inches between them. In this space I slipped a fairly heavy log which I
found beside the pond, and I then lashed the tops of the stakes together
so the log could slide readily up and down between the stakes which
served as guides, and across the lashing of roots I laid a light stick.
For a trigger I selected an “L”-shaped twig, and from one end of this I
tied a strong root, with the other end of the fastening looped about the
heavy log. This was adjusted until, when the trigger was placed across
the light stick between the uprights, the heavy log was raised a few
inches above the log set in the pathway. Next a very light stick was
placed just above the lower log and the end of the trigger was placed
resting against this, so that the pressure of the drop-log forced the
trigger against the stakes. It was a very simple arrangement, but I knew
that if any creature attempted to pass over the log upon the ground he
would of necessity move the trigger-stick and allow the log to drop upon
his back. The trap being set, I spent some time in securing a supply of
frogs about the pond, and then started toward camp. I soon reached the
brook and turned aside for the trout in their birch-bark receptacle,
thinking with pleasurable anticipation of the fine meal in store for me.
[Illustration: HOW THE DEADFALL WAS ARRANGED]
I passed the pool, which was now rapidly filling up again, pushed aside
the bushes, and gave a gasp of astonishment—the birch-bark dish was
lying on its side, absolutely empty.