I saw a pretty fox yesterday morning. I knew it was morning because my stomach was still growling like a baby bear hungry for a mouthful of anything at all. I have taken to eating no breakfast, a pinch of food at midday, then a little more along about sundown. I lessened my meals, as my greatest fear is to run out of food.
I do not believe I will be much of a hand at snaring rabbits, and I have not nearly enough shotgun shells to kill game of any size. That does not mean I don’t still try to hunt. I attempted to make a bow and arrows, and while I managed something that worked, I lost two of my three arrows in the snow. One loss I can understand, accept it as the lack of skill of a beginner at something. But two is stupidity on my part.
I poked around in the snow, scuffing up a sizable patch, but the snow is deep, and in places the land slopes. For all I know those arrows are a good five, six feet down. After too much time spent rooting for them like a pig after acorns, I was out of breath, tired and shaking. I must learn to go about my days at a slower pace, lest I burn up the scant amount of food I take in to survive.
Cages as traps, that is another thing I have tried. I spent a good long while building a pair of traps big enough, or so I thought, to catch rabbits. I used a length of rope, unraveled it to make thinner ropes, and built a fine mess of woven branches and hairy little strings poking out here and there. I tried a second cage, made a better job of that, then rebuilt the first.
The next morning, I took them out along a well-traveled rabbit trail. But after a week, I caught nothing. There was not even sign of tracks nearby. I determined that rabbits are far too cunning for me. I am still puzzling it out, but maybe cages will work in the spring. Perhaps I’ll use them up in the trees for other critters.
I have decided to try my hand at setting snares again, this time along that same rabbit run. At least I was a little familiar with how to make them, as William had been interested in such things a couple of years back. I helped him a time or two, but finally left him to it when he plain didn’t talk while we were out along the creek. I got the feeling he wanted to be alone.
He is an odd duck sometimes. I find it difficult to figure out what is in his head. Then I reasoned that there is only room for me in my head, so why should he be any different?
In truth, I did not mind not going along, as every time I saw those poor bunnies hanging by their necks or their legs, and they caught sight of us coming along the trail, they set up a fuss, well, the ones that were still alive.
They set to twisting and screeching and squealing out sounds like a tiny baby might make, only worse. It didn’t bother Will. Curious, though, that I don’t mind the last bit, skinning and cutting them up for the stewpot. It’s the killing I do not care for.
That said, I believe I am done being that girl. I could use some fresh rabbit. And if the smells attract bears or wolves or lions, so be it. I will fight them to the death over a fine pot of rabbit stew.
Now I need to catch a rabbit.