It was a very cold night. Neither of us were dressed for wilderness survival, so with little choice we just snuggled closer. The ground was rough, the noises unfamiliar, and I had a hard time getting sleepy thinking of all the new animals I might find. I was remembering all the tracks I’d seen that day and wanted to track the animals that had made them. Rusty drifted off beside me and I tried listening to his breathing to calm my thoughts. Everything here was new, and new to me was interesting, and anything interesting was something to explore, so sleep was a long time coming. I didn’t even know I’d fallen asleep until I awoke in the morning. As usual, dawn was barely beginning when I stirred. I was torn between checking the snare and keeping Rusty warm. He must have been freezing, but practicality soon won out over warmth. If there was an animal in the snare I’d need to clean it, gather firewood, make a fire and start cooking it. That could take a few hours, and we needed to get as many miles behind us as possible. I wriggled free and rolled out from under the parachute, then noticed water had settled on top of it. That was good. We’d need that water, every little bit of it. I walked back to the game trail and checked the snare from a distance, nothing. Rats. I walked around looking for edible plants, but the forest here was unfamiliar to me. I avoided the area of the snare hoping something would wander down the run. Critters often moved around in the early morning hours, so there was still hope for a meal. As I wandered I found leaves full of dew and drank as I went. I decided to wake Rusty before the dew was gone so I made my way back to our camp. Slipping under the parachute, I sat quietly next to him, hating to wake him but knowing it was the smart thing to do. I shook him gently and he awoke with a start.
“What is it?” he said nervously.
“Nothing, you’re not a cop today, just relax.”
“I was.”
“We need to get up before the dew burns off. It may be our only water today so we should get as much as we can while it’s still here. Don’t hit the parachute. You’ll knock the water off it. Bad news this morning is that nothing tripped the snare. Good news is there is lots of dew. Water’s more important so let’s have a drink to celebrate.”
“Some celebration, dirty water.”
“It’s better than no water. Here, pinch the parachute and tip it towards you. Some of the dew will run down and you can catch it in your mouth.” He pinched and shook and a trickle of water started down the fabric gathering more dewdrops as it went. “If we get dew like this every night we ought to be fine, thirsty but fine. At least we are both desert rats and we’re used to less water than these northerners.”
After drinking from the parachute we walked around in the woods and I showed him how to spot dew in other handy places. When we approached the snare I saw a small movement ahead and froze. I held my hand up as a signal to Rusty. We stopped and watched. A rabbit was investigating the odd smells. I intended to remove the snare so we could set it up again when we stopped for the night, but maybe, just maybe…
“Freeze!” I whispered to Rusty.
I settled into a stalking crouch and silently made my way to the game trail behind the rabbit. The rabbit was very alert and sensed my approach. It froze, whiskers twitching. Rabbits usually freeze before they flee. If I could just get it to take off down the game trail I’d snare it. I kept my eyes on the rabbit, staying out of sight as much as possible. I crept, quietly following the tiny trail through the woods. I couldn’t just walk the game trail. It was just a tunnel through the undergrowth but I could follow along next to it. As I stalked the rabbit I wondered if I might have to catch it with my bare hands. It wasn’t moving. I didn’t want to dive for it. It would probably get away and even if it didn’t, it would put up a fight and I could get scratched or bitten. At last the rabbit gave me a nervous look and dashed forward. There was a snap as the trip stick released and a whoosh as the sapling straightened again, then the rabbit went flying up in the air and hung dangling on the end of the noose. Yes! In a way I was glad to have been there when the rabbit was caught. I hated the thought of animals dangling helplessly from the noose so I killed it quickly.
“Rusty, gather some firewood while I skin this critter. We have food!”
I took down the snare, saving the stake and the trip stick arrangement for use at the next stop. Then I skinned the rabbit and prepared it for cooking.
While Rusty turned the rabbit over the fire I scraped the skin clean. It wasn’t very big, but the night had been cold enough to make me appreciate every bit of the rabbit’s fur. Any little bit of insulation helps. If you know where to put a little warmth it can help warm the whole body.
Rusty patiently turned the rabbit this way and that, trying to prevent it from burning. I took down the parachute and rolled up the snare and rabbit skin inside. Then I fashioned the remaining parachute cords into straps so we could carry it backpack style.
The rabbit was good as far as survival food goes. When the outside meat was cooked we sat by the fire peeling off strips of meat and eating it, then roasting the next layer.
“Have you ever eaten rabbit before?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve seen it in grocery stores so I know people must eat it occasionally.”
“I’ve eaten my share but never from a grocery store. It was usually like this, over an open fire, after a time of hunger. I have to admit it’s a lot more fun being on a survival trip with you than it is alone.”
“This is fun?”
“Yeah, this is fun. It would be better with more food but I like this, hunger and cold nights and all. I have to admit, I’d have preferred a working parachute. But I’ve thought of taking a trip like this many times. I think about being dropped in an unfamiliar place and what I would do to make my way back to civilization.”
“Cass, this isn’t a game we are playing.”
“I know, but I’m not worried yet. We have a destination in mind. I think we’ll do okay for water, if the dew comes each night. We can make it a few days without food. But don’t worry, we’ll find something. All we have to do is keep our heads on straight, watch for anything edible and we’ll do okay.”
“Does anything ever worry you?”
“Of course, and I’ll be sure and let you know when I become worried. For now we’re doing good.”
When we’d taken all the meat off the rabbit that we could, I put out the fire and erased all the evidence that I could from our camp. I noted the direction of the shadows and we set out north again.
As we hiked, it was natural for me to lead. I watched for food, tracks, opportunities. When we went on search and rescue calls I was always the leader because I was the tracker. So we just naturally fell into that familiar formation, me leading, Rusty following. Sometimes he would track me as he followed along. It was good practice for him. Normally I hid my footprints as I walked but I wasn’t hiding my footprints here. I wanted us to be found, if people were looking for us. So I left clear footprints and even marked our trail occasionally, just in case. If I saw rocks I’d stack them or place them in a line so people would see inconsistencies and watch for more. If there was a stick handy I’d even write Rusty’s initials next to the rocks. I thought, since Rusty had made the travel plans, they would know his name. And so I tracked and walked and left a trail when I could. By noon I was hungry again, but we just kept walking. In the afternoon I spotted a welcome sight.
“Wait here,” I instructed.
I stepped away for a moment searching through the undergrowth but was met by disappointment. I only came up with one small strawberry. I picked the leaves off of several plants and put them in my pocket. I palmed the one small berry and found Rusty again.
“I have a present for you,” I said, and placed the berry in his hand. He looked at it. “That’s all there was, sorry. We’ll watch for more plants. Go ahead, eat it. It’s only one berry.”
“Cass…”
“When we find a good water supply I’ll make tea. I saved some of the leaves. And we’ll find more strawberry patches, you’ll see.”
“How can you make tea? You don’t have anything to hold water.”
“If we can find a good water supply I’ll show you.”
We continued on. He ate the one berry, looking guilty about it. Finding strawberry plants was encouraging to me and I kept a sharp eye out for more. We walked and walked, weaving in and out of trees and brush, always following the shadows north. I saw lots of animal tracks, and that was encouraging too. The woods were alive. I could track the animals if the tracks were fresh. Each time I came across a very distinct track I examined it, deciding whether it was worth the time to track it. Most of the time the animal was too big, like a deer, or the track was old enough that I figured the animal was miles away.
I’d eat almost anything. If I could catch it, I’d eat it. The only problem was in the catching. I wasn’t hungry enough yet to take down an animal too big for my uses. I also imagined as soon as I brought down a deer some game warden would magically appear, arrest me and haul me off to jail. It just went against my principals to take more than I could use from the woods. I was trying to remember just how my woods lore had come about, why I had decided just when it was okay to kill and when it was not, how much to take, how much to give back, exactly what was the proper way to treat nature. I didn’t know when that had developed but I was very set on it. I’d have to be very desperate to break my own rules.
We were walking, and I was thinking, when I ran across a trail. It wasn’t a manmade trail but it was a very well used game trail. I looked at the tracks on it. Many deer had passed this way. I wasn’t looking for deer but wondered if they were headed for a source of water. If they knew the way to a stream, maybe the stream would lead to a lake. Any water source was worth investigating. I followed the deer tracks. Rusty followed me. We had to stoop and crouch down in spots but the tracks led me on. I worried a little that we were no longer heading north but water seemed more important. If it did lead to a stream I was hoping it would be deep enough to try a fish trap. There are all kinds of options in the woods, if you know what to watch for. These woods seemed more livable than the steep, dry mountains back home. What we weren’t prepared for on this trip was the cold. I continued following the tracks of the deer until we finally came to an open meadow. I was disappointed. I sat down under a tree and brooded.
“What’s wrong, Cass?”
“I was hoping these tracks were leading to water. We don’t need a meadow, we need water.”
“Maybe if we followed them the other direction?”
“Maybe,” I sighed. Well, there was one useful thing that I might be able to find in a deer meadow, and that was grass. Most grasses are edible but I was hoping for a certain kind that would make a good straw. If I was able to make tea, we would appreciate a straw to drink it with. I looked across the meadow, resting and watching for the plant I was hoping for. Rusty sat too. I rarely rested, so he was taking advantage of the situation.
“Wait here,” I said, and headed into the meadow to look around for a stalk. A round, hollow stalk. I found some of the younger blades of grass and picked them. I chewed them and swallowed the juice. Not great, but not too bad. I doubted they were very digestible so I chewed until the grass was tasteless then spit it out. It wouldn’t make our stomachs feel better, but maybe it would give us some of the nutrients we needed. I used my knife to cut a handful of young blades and brought them back to Rusty.
“Grasses are almost always edible. It doesn’t taste great but if you chew it and swallow the juice it’ll provide a little nourishment. Don’t swallow the fibers. Just spit them out when you are done. I was looking for a straw. I’ll be back.”
I continued looking around the meadow and finally found a stalk that I cut off with my knife. I blew through it and air came out the other end so I stuck the stalk behind my ear so I wouldn’t have to carry it. I cut another handful of grasses and then led Rusty back down the deer trail. We chewed, and walked, and chewed, and spat. When I reached our former trail the only way to recognize it was by tracking. We had never had a real trail to follow, so when we got back to where we’d turned west I was torn. I finally decided to give the deer a chance for a mile or two. I followed the deer in the other direction and this time I was rewarded with an immense, slow flowing stream.
“Yes!” I said enthusiastically. I turned to Rusty beaming.
“It sure doesn’t take much to make you happy,” he observed.
“We have water, and if we build it right, we can probably catch fish. Then we can follow this stream and maybe it’ll lead to our lake.”
“How are you going to catch fish?”
“Do you want to learn how to make a fish trap?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Okay, all we need is about thirty sticks that are longer than the stream is deep. So we need to start looking for those.”
I studied the stream and guessed we’d need the sticks to be about four feet long.
“That’s a lot of sticks.”
“Yeah, but they don’t have to be any particular size, branching is okay too. We are basically building a fish fence. They don’t care what it looks like. And we can keep an eye out for one nice, long stick that we can use for a spear.”
We started gathering sticks. After finding about a dozen of them I waded into the stream and began placing them in the water, stabbing them down into the creek bed a few inches apart. As Rusty brought me more sticks I arranged them into a wide V with a little circular fish corral at one end. The theory was that the V would herd the fish into the tip where we could catch them easily. It took work and time and patience. If there was one thing that came in handy in the woods it was patience.
“How do you learn these things?” Rusty asked.
“When I was a kid, I read survival books. Then I tried all the tricks in them over the years. There’s a lot I don’t remember, but the few things I do remember have been effective. Did you happen to see a large branch lying around? Or a log?”
“No, what do you need a big branch for?”
“Making tea.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. A rock might work, too, if it had a bowl shape to it.”
I walked around near our camp and found a dead tree that was leaning over the stream. Perfect. I got out my knife again and began hollowing out a bowl shape in the top of the log. It was rough going. The wood was old and hard, but I kept at it, pulling out the shavings and splinters and watching them float downstream. I scraped, and scraped, and dug until I had a rough bowl shape. I scooped up water and put it in the bowl and watched. The first bowlful was absorbed by the wood so I scooped more water in until the bowl remained full.
“Okay, I announced. “We need a fire.”
Rusty built up a fire. I found several small river rocks and added them to the fire. Then I went to the stream to catch fish. I began up stream from the fish trap and waded around scaring the fish downstream.
“Cassidy, some of the things you do sure seem odd,” Rusty observed.
“What’s odd?” I asked.
“What are you doing?”
“Fishing. Get the parachute ready.”
He untied and unrolled the parachute and I waded closer to the fish trap. I could see three fish swimming around in circles in the end of the trap.
“Ready?” I called, “Don’t let them get away.”
I waded closer to the trap with my arms dangling in the water. I slowly made my way closer to the fish. When I felt the slippery sides of a fish I closed my grip suddenly and flung it into the parachute where it flopped around. I went after the second fish knowing my day’s food supply was trying its best to get away. This was easier to do the more fish there were in the trap. When they were crowded up it was harder for them to slither out of my grasp. I closed in on the second fish. It took patience. When I managed to touch it with one hand it would quickly dart ahead and fish are fast and slick. Finally, I had the fish swimming between my hands and I closed my grip as quickly as I could. I felt the fish flap back and forth, so I lifted my hands and flung the second fish into the parachute. One more to go. This one was smaller and the hardest to catch. I didn’t really want a second fish but I knew Rusty might. Several tries later and I still hadn’t caught it, so I waded up stream and scared more fish down and into the trap.
“How many fish can you eat tonight?” I asked.
“Right now, I could eat a grizzly bear, but after two fish I’ll probably change my mind.”
“So you want two?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I waded around upstream, and slowly made my way down stream again. This time there were four fish in the trap. They were all crowded together, so it was easy to grab one more for Rusty. I took out two sticks from the trap and released the rest of them. I left the trap in place hoping we would have fish for breakfast too.
When I got to shore Rusty had the first fish cleaned and he was working on the second one.
“Cut the head off mine. I can’t stand to look my dinner in the eye as I eat it,” I said.
“This from the girl that eats snake, and traps and cleans her own animals.”
“Sorry.”
We roasted the fish over the fire. They cooked quickly and we ate them off the sticks like corn on the cob. When we were finished I went to the log with the bowl hollowed out.
“Are you ready to try strawberry tea?” I asked.
“I’m ready to watch you make it. I don’t know if I want any,” he answered.
I put the strawberry leaves in the bottom of the bowl. Then I nearly filled the bowl with water. I went to the fire and used sticks to pull out the river rocks. I used the parachute as a hot pad and grabbed the hot rocks and rushed them over to the bowl. I dropped the rocks into the bowl with a small splash and a hiss of steam. The rocks heated the water, the water steeped the leaves, and in a few minutes we had strawberry tea. I took out the cooled rocks and added a third hot rock to make sure it really was steeping well. When the water had changed color, I handed Rusty the straw.
“Tea time,” I said cheerily.
“Do we have to hold our pinkies out when we drink?” he asked.
“I doubt it.”
“You first.”
I climbed up onto the log and straddled it on one side of the bowl and Rusty climbed up and straddled it from the other side. I stuck in the straw and sipped. Not bad. I would have preferred it cold but it wouldn’t stick around long. We needed to drink it while we could. It could use some sugar, too, but that was obviously not an option.
“Try it,” I said. “It’s not like the tea back home and it’s good for you. It has lots of vitamin C in it.”
When we finished the first bowl I added more leaves and water, then ran for a few more hot rocks. It was important to get whatever nourishment was available. We drank the second bowl of tea, and then ate the boiled leaves.
“It’s getting dark and we need to find a place away from here to sleep. There’s too many food smells here. I don’t want any surprises in the night.”
We followed the stream north for a little ways and found a sleeping spot. We doubled up the parachute and pulled it over us. There was no need for it to catch water since the stream was nearby. Instead, it would keep the dew off and insulate us a little from the cold.
“When I am off on searches and night falls and I am trying to get to sleep, I always wonder what you are doing. I know you are probably working or getting dinner, but I always wonder anyway. Now I wonder what Strict and Victor and Landon are doing. While we are up here looking for Upper Loon Lake and a single cabin, I wonder what they are doing. And I wonder if anybody is looking for us. And what happened to the airplane and the pilot. Surely, if the pilot had made it they would have sent people out looking for us, yet I haven’t seen or heard a plane.”
“Are you getting worried?”
“About us? No. I worry about the pilot. But I don’t know that we could have done anything. He was heading for a lake, that’s all he told me. He was hoping to land the plane, but he didn’t expect to be able to. That’s why I worry. But I know there’s no use in worrying. I can’t do anything.”
“You’re doing plenty right here. I still wonder how you know how to do most of the things you’ve done since we bailed out. How in the world did you learn to make tea without any tools? I’d never think to use a log for a cup or rocks to heat water. Where did you learn how to clean an animal?”
“I hunted with the ranch hands.”
“And they made tea?”
“No, but they taught me how to field dress my deer and it’s all about the same from one critter to the next. I learned how to make tea by reading about outdoor survival and then trying things on my own. That’s how I learned how to make a fish trap, too. We need to check the trap in the morning in case there is breakfast waiting. And we need to take it down. Any kind of trap we make needs to be taken down before we leave the area. I don’t want to leave critters trapped. I only take from the woods what I know I will use wisely.”
“You’ve gone deer hunting?”
“Sure, the ranch hands go out hunting every season. They bring back two deer, although they could bring back one per hunter. We only take two because that’s what they use in a year. Usually Steve and Randy each shoot a buck, but when I was a teenager Steve let me do it for the practice. At that point he was a better shot, but I could get closer to the herd. He made brownie points with the boss when he came back with a stalking story for my dad. I had a lot of pressure growing up to keep up with the hands, especially Steve. My dad considered him the stable one, so he was the one I was supposed to be like.”
“Was your dad a hard man to live with as a kid?”
“Only occasionally. As long as I was out doing things he approved of, he let me do just about anything. Even when I got in trouble at school, he was pleased with me if I got in trouble for doing something he approved of, so he usually didn’t give me a hard time. When he did, though, I sure knew it. When I wrecked a dirt bike I had to fix it myself. When I got stuck on the side of the road going to town because I hadn’t checked the truck over I spent the summer rotating tires, checking oil, air filters and replacing everything that can be replaced on a truck. If I put Shasta up without brushing him down, I was assigned stable boy duties for two weeks and had to do all the horse care. So I learned a lot because of him. I got mad, but I never got vindictive. I knew I deserved what I got and now I’m glad I learned all the things I did.”
“What did your mom think of all that?”
“She thought he was being hard on me, but he never asked me to do anything that would hurt me, so she let it go and sympathized with me.”
I wondered why Rusty asked me so many questions, and then I wondered the same things about him, but we were all talked out and sleepy so I didn’t take my chance to ask him.