wilderness survival : living off the land with the clothes on your back and the knife on your belt

WILDERNESS SURVIVAL

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WILDERNESSSURVIVAL

Living Off the Land with the Clothes on Your Back and the Knife on Your Belt

Mark Elbroch and Michael Pewtherer

Ragged Mountain Press | McGraw-Hill

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d e d i c at i o n

D

To my wife Diane for her unwavering support,

and to our two boys, Wyatt and Torrin, in hopes

that they soon surpass what is contained within

this book and share their knowledge with all

who care to learn.

Mike Pewtherer

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ix

Introduction 1

A Journal of Wilderness Survival by Mark Elbroch 5 and following

Essays by Mike Pewtherer

Survival 6

Traps 10

Shelter 25

Making Camp 32

Meal Preparation and Cooking 40

Eat a Balanced Diet in the Woods 48

Carcass Care 54

Working with Pitch 68

Bone Hooks 72

Trout Hunting 77

Canteens 88

Stalking and Hunting 95

Preserving and Storing Food 101

Cooking Containers 111

Tipi Fires 116

Rock Boiling 119

Liquids, Water Gathering, and Purification 122

Stone Pecking 126

Fire Making with the Bow and Drill 132

Hunting Tools 157

Camouflage 172

Baskets 177

Acorn Flour 188

Cordage 198

Hygiene 208

Rawhide and Sinew 221

Epilogue 235

Appendix: Wilderness Living and Survival Schools 241

Index 253

ACKNOWLEDGMENTSMy early adventures in primitive skills were shared with many;foremost among them are Kalya Sanford, Mike Pewtherer,Jonathan Talbot, Ricardo Sierra, Frank Grindrod, JoshKaufman, and Casey, Hanneman, Catherine, and the so manyothers I shared time with while I worked with Hawk CirclePrograms, and who supported and shared in my enthusiasmand learning in the field. Several particular hills, a valley filledwith wild edibles, a wild stream and a swimming pond wereessential in my learning and enjoying primitive skills so manyyears ago—a very special thank you to the lands which sus-tained us while we practiced, learned, fumbled and laughed atourselves; these places remain a quiet place inside me where Iturn in times of need and sanctuary. Thanks also to the wildflora and fauna.

The core people who provide me with enduring and con-sistent support include Keith Badger, Nancy Birtwell, FredVanderbeck, and my family. My grandfather introduced me tonature and birds many years ago among the hedgerows andfields of Suffolk, England. Since then, every member of myfamily has not only suffered with, but also supported andencouraged my obsessive interests in wildlife, birding, andtracking. My parents support me in every way possible, as doesmy grandmother Liz Gorst. And a special appreciation for myUncle Rob, also known as Christopher, who shares a specialinsight into survival after years in Africa.

Thanks also to Jonathan Eaton at Ragged Mountain for thisopportunity, and Anne Hawkins for her enthusiasm and nego-tiation of the contract. Of course, a heartfelt thanks to MikePewtherer as well, for sharing in such a life-changing adventureand our continuing friendship.

Mark Elbroch

ix

DI would like to thank my wife Diane for her endless patience andwillingness to transcribe and proofread many of my notes andessays and Mark Elbroch for his friendship and help in this work. Abig thanks goes out to Sylvan Incao, my childhood friend who firstset me on the path to the skills contained in this book and toRicardo Sierra who taught me so much and provided a sound plat-form from which I could begin in earnest my journey with the“skills.” I would also like to thank my parents for their constant sup-port and their faith that I would find my way both into and out ofthe woods around our home. The following people also deservethanks for their contributions both large and small: JonathanTalbott, the Hawthorne Valley Association for their stewardship of“my” woods, Conrad Vispo, Keith Badger, Frank Grindrod, JonYoung, Tom Brown Jr., Kevin Reeve, Craig Holdrege, Henry Glick,Joshua Kaufman, Daniel Grey, Michael Schuldt, and all those peo-ple who have found, and those yet to find, value and comfort in liv-ing with the earth.

Mike Pewtherer

x WILDERNESS SURVIVAL

IntroductionMark Elbroch

Mike Pewtherer, David MacDonald, and I met at Hawk Circle, alearning center started in 1989 by Ricardo Sierra to teach wildernesssurvival skills to children and adults. Mike had worked with HawkCircle since its inception, and David and I joined in subsequentyears. While exploring woodlands, teaching others, and practicingsurvival skills, we became firm friends and continually pushed eachother’s interests, applications, and knowledge of wildlife andwilderness skills.

It was during my three years with Hawk Circle that I was able totransform the many notes I had acquired during courses on survivalskills into working reality—to put skills to the test. Practicing withothers exponentially increased the speed with which we learned,because each of us brought unique perspectives to new challengesand offered distinctive strengths and interests. Mike saved us days ofpractice by sharing what he was learning in his experiments withtraps, David taught us much about primitive pottery and alternativemethods of making cordage and baskets, and I contributed what Icould from practicing hand-drill fires and tracking. Our pooledcommunity knowledge grew quickly. To intellectually understand asurvival skill is never enough, as countless variables and trialsemerge when you enter the landscape, gather raw materials, andattempt to produce results. Practice, and more practice, is essential.

This book has two components. One is Mike Pewtherer’s essayson how you can begin to practice survival skills. Mike has been

1

practicing survival skills for seventeen years, and his extensive fieldexperience provides the details that make these essays most useful.The book’s other component is a personal journal.

The journal is my own account of a wilderness trip that Mike,David, and I undertook nearly ten years ago in the Northeast. Dueto the illegality of practicing primitive hunting and fishing skills(and out of season, too), this is as specific as we will be. It was ourlongest survival trip to date and was attempted only after each of ushad practiced fire making and other skills for many years and hadtaken several short solo trips into the woods with only knives andour clothes. We selected a location with which we all had varyingdegrees of familiarity and an environment that provided springs fordrinking water.

As you read the journal, it will quickly become apparent that wewere not experts. The three of us were in our mid-twenties, and wewere each in a transitional period as we attempted to follow ourhearts into more focused careers and interests. This adventure wasa natural progression in our growth, for if we didn’t take the oppor-tunity to apply the survival skills, then why were we practicing themin the first place?

The breaking of laws over the summer did not bother us in theleast. Speaking for myself, at that time in my life I believe I assumeda moral high ground on the matter; I firmly believed that what wewere practicing was closer to true conservation ethics than theimposed laws we broke. Naturally, we were more innocent and ide-alistic then, as is apparent in the journal’s language and tone.Clearly, we were seeking something inspiring, or even spiritual, insurvival skills that we could not find in American culture.

Our trip was neither well planned nor perfectly orchestrated.Ground rules were never discussed beforehand. Yet I knew thatMike and I wished to “survive” for a period long enough to provethat we were no longer drawing on the fat reserves we’d accumu-lated in our everyday lives. We wanted to be sure we’d been success-ful in living away from modern society. Yet I also believe weexpected to simply enter the woods, survive and then reappear onlyat the completion of the experience; but this is not what happened.

2 WILDERNESS SURVIVAL

Of the three of us, Mike was most focused on skills of survival.He already knew he wanted to devote his life to practicing and per-fecting these skills, and he wanted to teach them to others. Mike alsosought to test specific skills to see whether they were really useful ina survival situation and to fine-tune their application accordingly.He needed to gain his own stories to share with others.

David, too, harbored an intense desire to master survival skills.Yet David vacillated between practicing skills which would keephim alive in the woods and the finer crafts. He enjoyed and was veryskilled at making beautiful things, and spent most of his days mak-ing baskets and other products.

For me, I knew this trip would offer closure to my era in wilder-ness living skills and the start of completely focusing on just oneskill—animal tracking. I was more invested in what I might learnfrom the overall experience than in the individual skills themselves.What would I learn about myself, the natural world, and humanityfrom living so simply and in a fashion imitating our human ances-tors who perfected these skills over untold generations?

Realize that “wilderness” has evolved and forever changed. Puredrinking water has become a luxury; wildlife dynamics and densi-ties have been altered; and exotic fungal, plant, and animal speciesinhabit nearly every niche of North America. We could never re-create living as was done 500 years ago, so instead we attempted amodern wilderness survival experience. And rather than our adven-ture be borne of dire need, we chose to do what we did. It was a lux-ury and gift to ourselves.

Our summer was filled with learning and wonder, and I keptpen to paper throughout. I had intended this journal to be writtenfor others, but as I reread it, I noticed that I had written somethingfar more personal. In it, I witness a transition from physically doc-umenting each day to the philosophical ramblings of a mind andspirit with time to reflect. As I lay in stream pools and forest debris,the stress in my neck and shoulders dissipated and my views on theworld mellowed. I’ve learned much about myself from the relivingof the experience.

So the story begins. Try not to judge us too harshly. Rather you

Elbroch and Pewtherer 3

are encouraged to laugh with or even at us, and enjoy the lightnessof the tale. Mike, David, and I believe survival skills offer many les-sons in and of themselves. Whether you read about them or prac-tice them in the field, they provide direct insight into self andplanet. Survival skills are primal, and their effects can be experi-enced by anyone who has an open mind and heart.

Be forewarned that you may find portions of the journal dis-turbing, controversial, or even disappointing. The three of us visitedtown on one occasion, and David decided to spend half of nearlyevery week in society with friends and family. We killed numerousanimals—sometimes in a brutal fashion—frequently trespassed,and disregarded hunting and fishing regulations. After years ofrumination, my perspectives on what we did have changed, and I’llshare them in the epilogue.

This journal is a snapshot of that earlier time. It is an honest,stumbling account of learning through countless mistakes and fol-lies. Above all, it is a story of simplicity. We hope it will inspire youto make a trip of your own.


A Journal of Wilderness Survival

June 25th

Tomorrow I enter the woods, build a shelter, and sleepensconced in sticks and leaves. Quite a contrast from this weekof bed-and-breakfasts and hotels, a rehearsal dinner, weddingfeasts, restaurants, and breweries. I packed on a few extrapounds for the lean times ahead.

I’m sitting in one of the greatest technological creations ofall time—a massive metal craft flying from Chicago to Boston.I am eager, anxious, and incredibly nervous about my time inthe woods. I expect to suffer a bit—not to a torturous degree byany means—but I will experience a niggling discomfort as Islide from plush, modern living to a rustic life in the woods. Ialso hope to achieve a clarity that many preach is possible onlywhile living so simply and purely.

We are now a mobile people, so mobile that we have lost thesense of place we gain from learning and experiencing onehome over time. We don’t know the names of the plants in ouryards or the animals that live among us. I move through lifemissing all but the obvious. I feel the need to slow down, andthe remedy might be a lengthy stay in nature.

5

What do you picture when you hearthe word “survival”?

For many, the image that comesto mind is of a skinny, disheveledperson shivering in a damp cavewith a few worn skins for clothing.The American Heritage Dictionary ofthe English Language provides theroots of the word survive as comingfrom the Latin “super,” meaning“superior or above,” and “vivere,”meaning “to live.” Thus, one inter-pretation is “superior living.”

Survival need not be a struggle.Most often, survival experiences arespoken of as “man pitting himselfagainst nature.” Anytime you workagainst something rather than withit is a struggle! Swimming againstthe current, carving against thegrain, going up the descendingescalator—all are examples ofstruggles caused by workingagainst the nature of the situation.

In the wilderness, if you’re thirstyand you run randomly to the bot-tom of every valley looking forwater, you will become frustrated,discouraged, and likely dehydrated.A better idea would be to first go toa good vantage point to see if anyclear indicators of surface water arevisible. If there are none, then per-haps you’ll look for trees that


require a lot of water, such as cot-tonwoods, willows, and basswoods.Knowing that water is either on ornear the surface when these waterindicators are present will drasti-cally increase your chances ofmaintaining morale and health.

Likewise, if you make a beeline toa particular spot in the wilderness,you will probably encounter plenty ofresistance—thickets, cliffs, and per-haps swamps or rivers. If you moveas the landscape dictates and you gowith the flow of the landscape whilekeeping in mind your goal, yourmovements will require less energyand will probably be more efficient.

In the wilderness, you mustattend to five priorities in a survivalsituation, and the order in whichyou attend to them can make thedifference between life or death. Thefollowing list goes from the greatestpriority to the least:

1. Attitude. If you look at your situa-tion and panic, or if you merelylament your ill luck, nothing ben-eficial will happen. However,comprehending your predicamentand deciding on a course ofaction are productive activities,getting you closer to your goalsand easing the journey.

Survival

2. Shelter. Without shelter, nightscan be long and sleepless.Exposure to the weather, fair orstormy, can leave you hypother-mic, tired, and ineffective when itcomes to other survival tasks. Invery cold or hot climates, shelteris an obvious need—you can diefrom exposure in a short time.With shelter, your “batteries” canbe recharged. You have a“home,” a base from which tomake forays for other needs, anda physical and emotional aid.

3. Water. Without water, your men-tal faculties begin to diminishafter about three days, and yourability to function decreasesquickly from this point. Dark orstrong-smelling urine andheadaches are clear indicators ofdehydration. Drinking unpurifiedwater, however, can result invomiting and diarrhea, causing afurther loss of water. Findingpotable water will help keep yourhead clear and your body healthy.

4. Fire. Fire is a higher priority thanfood for these reasons: Fireimproves morale, provides heatto supplement a shelter, purifieswater, aids in the making oftools, and makes it possible todry clothes and supplies.Cooking food, of course, isimportant as well, as are dryingand otherwise preparing food forconsumption or storage.

5. Food. Even though food is oftenthe first item missed when you


have none of the above, it is theonly one you can do without fortwo weeks or more. Gandhi’stwenty-one-day fast while in hisearly sixties is tribute to that.

If you find and/or create every-thing described in this survival list,you can remain in the wild indefi-nitely. Although the prioritizationshould be followed strictly in a sur-vival situation, don’t think that whileyou are looking for a shelter loca-tion you should ignore good fire-making materials or foods thatpresent themselves. The list ismerely a guide to show you whereyour main focus should be.

Practice skills independently, butperiodically look at the larger pictureto see where each skill fits in as partof survival as a whole. Walking outinto the woods and making a shelterbecomes a different experienceentirely when you have no gear orsupplies, no backup, and no food orfire. Start slowly. Go camping andtake food, knives, canteens, andclothes, but leave your sleeping bag,tent, and matches at home. Whileyou are in the woods with supplies,pretend that you have no water. Tryto find some and rock-boil it in apot. Take your time and substitutemodern gear with gear borrowedfrom the land.

Camping is a lot of fun, so enjoylearning how to let the land supportyou and practicing various skills.Never get too attached to your

survival tools, though. It is a goodidea to give away, or return to theland, tools you have made. Don’tmake just one good canteen andhold onto it forever. Make many, sothat canteen making becomes sec-ond nature and not a chore. Remem-ber, the loss of anything you canmake is a chance to improve on it.The loss of anything you cannotmake, however, can be devastating.

REGULATIONS AND THE LAWCheck out your state and local hunt-ing regulations to ensure that youare operating within the law when itcomes to practicing survival skills.Here, I’ll use the laws in the state ofNew York as an example.

In an involuntary survival situa-tion, such as being stranded whilecamping or if your vehicle breaksdown in a wilderness area, you arelegally permitted to do whatever isnecessary to survive. If you volun-tarily enter a survival scenario,however, you are expected to obeyall laws with regard to trespassing,fire making, camping, and so forth.

In a voluntary survival situation,numerous laws pertaining to hunt-ing and fishing apply. New Yorkstate laws on the taking of wildlifewith primitive or traditionalweapons are full of gray areas.Because New York has a permis-sion-based system, any method oftaking game that is not approved in


the hunting and trapping regula-tions is to be considered illegal. Yetsome animals can be taken by “anysafe means,” which, according tothe New York State Department ofConservation and Department ofFish and Wildlife, does not includepoisons. In the case of wood-chucks, however, poison gas car-tridges can be used. When it comesto bow hunting, New York requiresa minimum draw weight of thirty-five pounds, and you must have avalid license; spear hunting for deer,however, is illegal, as is the use ofsnares for any animal.

Fishing requires a license unlessyou are under the age of sixteen, aresident or direct family member ofa resident on an active farm whilefishing on that farm, or a NativeAmerican from a reservation withinNew York State. Spearfishing islegal in certain waters for certainfish, such as bullhead, eels, suck-ers, bowfin, carp, gar, burbot, andfreshwater drum. Bait and hooktype vary in their legality, dependingon the body of water being fished.Some specify single hooks and arti-ficial bait only, whereas others allowtreble hooks and live bait. Restric-tions on daily limits and minimumsizes also need to be followed. Tofind out more about fishing laws inyour area, check with your localtown hall or the game warden.

Enjoy your catch.

Day 1

A hectic morning tying up loose ends: bills, letters, messages,etc. I shaved my head and beard. Less to deal with, as well as aritualistic act of commitment to a lengthy experience. My newpatchy appearance isn’t appropriate for mingling in modernsociety. I stashed wedding gear at my apartment, which is beingsublet for the month of July. Everything in order, I drove thefour hours to meet Mike and David.

As I pulled into our rendezvous spot, the two of themdropped from a tree on the far side of the field. They had met afew days earlier to live in a semi-survival condition—meaningthey were floating in and out of the woods, feeding on foodsboth harvested and bought in town. I had flown west to attenda wedding and hadn’t been able to join them until now. I washappy they remembered to meet me.

More chores: dropping off cars and preparing them for anextended sit (disconnecting batteries, etc.), and saying good-byes to families. It was late afternoon before we entered thewoods. I wore and carried clothes: shorts, t-shirt, long-sleevedshirt and pants, as well as a knife, a journal, a handful of dog-bane that I’d harvested last fall to make natural string, and apiece of leather I’d tanned several months ago. I planned tomake a small bag from the leather to tote things about. I also car-ried a small metal bowl to help us get started in the first few days.

The lush greenery was intense; the week of rain hadbrought forth a thick carpet of green from field to forest floor.We arrived at Mike and David’s camp in short order, which weplanned to abandon the next day. I attempted to patch thevestibule of their shelter to create my own quarters for the com-ing night. Snapping-turtle jerky lay on a small rack from theprior evening. I expected it to be a rather gruesome culinaryexperience, but it was quite good. Chewy. Mike told me of thesuccess of his turtle trap.


(continued on page 17)

How do you hunt multiple locationswhile at the same time lounging incamp? By using traps. Traps aremechanical hunters with greatpatience. They never tire, cramp, orlose interest. Hunting requires timeand energy and does not guaranteesuccess. Rather than stalking andwaiting, your time and energy fortrapping are used to locate excellentset areas and check the traps oncethey are in place. Traps are used tohold or kill an animal without directmanipulation by, and therefore oftenin the absence of, the hunter. Yettrapping is an art that is onlylearned through trial and error.Making the traps is the simplestaspect of trapping.

TYPES OF TRAPSTraps can be classified in terms of:(a) where the energy to catch theanimal comes from; (b) why theanimal goes to the trap; and (c) thekilling or holding mechanism.

The energy required to hold orkill an animal comes from one ofthree sources: the animal’s weightor movement, the contraction of aspring stick (sapling or branch), orthe falling of a weight or counter-weight.


The animal trips the trap eitherbecause bait is attached to a triggeror there is incidental contact with atrigger or noose due to placementof the trap.

There are three main types ofkilling or holding mechanisms: (1)snares use strong cordage and anoose or net to hold or kill the prey;(2) deadfall and live-capture trapsuse a weight or basket in combina-tion with gravity to crush or capturethe animal; and (3) pit traps use aconcealed hole to hold (or kill byway of stakes in the bottom) game.

Trapping is used primarily whenyou are staying in one location,because it allows you to becomefamiliar with the area and the gamepresent. It is possible to trap suc-cessfully while on the move, butthis requires a greater tracking abil-ity to identify sites that will be pro-ductive within a twelve- totwenty-four-hour window. Stayingin one location while trapping isconducive to setting a trapline—aseries of traps set in a loop or cir-cuit that can be checked twice daily.Trapping on the move is bettersuited to setting a few traps fairlynear camp.

Traps

BAITSLook at a feeding area to see whatfoods are plentiful. For example, ifthe edge of a clover field is thefeeding area of a rabbit, you proba-bly won’t have much luck usingclover as bait. However, red maplebuds or a piece of wild apple maybring success. Good bait is oftenfood that an animal would like toeat but that is not readily available.One option is to leave a number ofprospective baits close together inthe feeding area overnight, thencheck in the morning to see whichones have been eaten.

SET LOCATIONSAnimals have a home range withinwhich they sleep, den, and move toand from feeding areas and daybeds. The best place to trap an ani-mal with a baited set is on the edgeof a feeding area. This way the ani-mal is already in a feeding “mind-


set” and may be curious about adifferent food.

Incidental (nonbaited) traps arebest set over den entrances andalong trails or runs used exclusivelyby your quarry. (On larger trails,other animals will likely walkthrough your set and destroy it.) Ifa rabbit is heading to a cloverpatch, it is not likely to stop on theway for some wilting clover lying onthe ground, but it may not notice anoose placed in the trail.

PEG SNAREType: Nonbaited snare.Materials: Strong cordage and apeg.Placement: Trail or run, den open-ings, water entrances.Directions:1. Drive a peg into the ground near

the trail or run. 2. Tie cordage to the base of the

peg.

Peg snare


inches in length and sharpenone end of each stick.

12. An inch from the other end ofeach stick, carve a notch so thatwhen the pointed ends are inthe ground, the top of the notchwill be horizontal and capable ofpreventing the squared ends ofthe T-bar from moving upward.

13. Cut the horizontal part of the T-bar piece to about six inches inlength (for squirrels), with thebranch at the center.

14. Trim the vertical leg of the T-barto two inches in length, andsharpen the end to receive thebait.

15. Square both ends so that theycorrespond to the notches inthe pointed sticks.

16. Tie a noose and a length ofcordage to the center of the T-bar, and bring everything tothe set area.

3. Make a noose and set it in thetrail. If necessary, support it inthe open position with a fewtwigs or grasses. Make the noosea little larger than the animal’shead so that as the animal movesdown the trail its head, but notits shoulders, passes through thenoose. When the noose tightensfrom the animal’s forward move-ment, the animal panics andstrangles itself.

T-BAR SNAREType: Baited snare.Materials: Flexible sapling, twonotched sticks, “T-bar” (a “T”-shaped section of a sapling trunkwith a branch growing perpendicu-lar to it), a number of twigs, andstrong cordage.Placement: Near feeding areas.Directions:11. Harvest two sticks about ten

T-bar snare

17. To determine the exact set loca-tion, bend a sapling so that thetop comes down to within twofeet from the ground.

18. Remove a number of thebranches to allow the sapling tosnap quickly erect. To lendstrength and snap to yourspring stick, parallel branchesor neighboring saplings can betied to one another so as towork in tandem.

19. With the tip of the sapling twofeet from the ground, place yourT-bar directly under it.

10. Attach the cordage to thesapling, place the bait on thepointed stick, and set the T-barin the notches.

11. Place the noose around the T-bar, lifting it off the ground withtwigs so that the animal mustextend its head through thenoose to get the bait.

The force used to remove the baittwists and frees the T-bar from thenotches, allowing the sapling tosnap upward. This tightens thenoose and kills the animal.

The T-bar snare can be set withthe bait branch horizontal for anapproach from above. In this case,place twigs around the trap as afence to prevent an animal fromgoing under the noose. The baitbranch can also point downward foran approach from the front or back(using two nooses).


KEEPER SNAREType: Nonbaited snare.Materials: Strong cordage and aweight three times or more thanthat of the target species (rocks orchunks of wood make goodweights).Placement: Trails and runs inwooded areas, den openings, waterentrances.Directions:1. Set a noose on a trail or over a

den opening. 2. Run the cordage from the noose

up through a “Y” in a branch andonto another branch above that.

3. Tie a weight to the end of thecordage and place it on thehigher branch in such a way thatit will fall with a little tug on thesnare line.

Keeper snare

4. Lash a one-inch-diameter pieceof wood across the “Y” justbeyond the notch, leavingenough room for the cordage tomove without a problem.

When an animal hits the noose, therock falls off its perch and plummetstoward the ground. The animal ispulled swiftly upward until it hits thebottom of the “Y” branch and dies.

FIGURE-FOUR DEADFALLType: Baited and nonbaited deadfall.Materials: Three straight branches(the size varies depending on thetarget species—mice to deer; aweight three times that of the targetspecies to kill the animal, or abox/basket [with a weight lashed tothe top] large enough to hold theanimal)Placement: Trail, run, or feedingarea.


Components:One upright stick, one diagonalstick, and one trigger stick. The baitor trigger stick and the diagonalstick are similar in length, while theupright stick is longer. Directions:1. Square the edge of the upright

stick about two and one-halfinches up, and make a wedgedtip.

2. Notch the diagonal stick three ormore inches from one end tocorrespond with the top of theupright; make a wedged point onthe other end.

3. Notch the bait or trigger stick toreceive the lower end of the diag-onal stick; make a correspondingnotch on the squared edge of theupright stick.

4. If you are going to use bait,sharpen the end farthest from thediagonal stick. If you are notgoing to use bait, use a branch

Figure-four deadfall

with a few twigs left attached (sothat it will not impede the fallingof the weight).

5. To set the trap, place the notch ofthe diagonal stick on the upright.As you put the bait or triggerstick in place, apply pressure onthe tip of the diagonal stick, thensubstitute your hand with either alog or a stone. If the weight tipsto either side, drive a guide stakein on either side to allow onlyupward or downward movement.

5. If the ground is soft, you mayneed to add a flat rock under-neath the trap as a smashing sur-face.

When the bait is taken, the weightfalls, crushing the prey. Note thatthe greater the angle of the weight,the longer it takes to fall. Thisincreases the chance of the animalescaping. If no large rocks are avail-able, you can attach a basket of


small stones to a log to add anyneeded weight.

When you set this trap on a trail,you can substitute a branch withone end left untrimmed for the baitstick. A passing animal that touchesany of the branches will cause theweight to fall and kill the animal. Ifthe branch is too sturdy, it may pre-vent the weight from doing its job.

SNAPPING-TURTLE TRAPType: Baited, live capture.Materials: Cordage; approximatelythirty one-and-one-quarter-inch-diameter sapling pieces eighteen tothirty inches long with a sharpenedend, including two “Y” sticks; a fewdinner-plate-sized flat stones; rottenfish or other meat for bait; and onethin, straight trigger stick eighteeninches long.Placement: Lake and swamp shal-lows about knee-deep.

Snapping-turtle trap

Directions: 11. Create a horseshoe shape with

the sharpened stakes, with themouth open to deeper water.

12. Hammer the sharpened stakesinto the bottom of the swamp toensure that they are firmlyembedded.

13. Make the width of the trap aboutsix inches wider than the size ofthe turtle you want to catch.

14. Have the stakes protrude sixinches above the surface, andlash them to one another to pre-vent splaying due to pressurefrom the inside. The two stakeson either side of the horse-shoe’s mouth are “Y” sticks,and they will hold the swingingdoor.

15. Line the bottom of the trap withflat stones—the bigger the bet-ter—to prevent the turtle fromdigging its way out.

16. To make the door, place one ofthe sapling pieces in the notchof both “Y” sticks so that itspans the mouth; this will bethe hinge.

17. Lash sticks to the hinge fourinches apart from one notch ormark to the other.

18. Lash an additional stick acrossthe bottom of the door parallelto the hinge. When the door isplaced in the “Y” sticks, itshould be able to swing in a fullcircle.

19. Tie a stone to the inside of thedoor; the stone must be heavy


enough to prevent the doorfrom floating open.

10. Drive a stake into the swampbottom just in front of themouth of the horseshoe, andleave enough protruding to pre-vent the door from swingingoutward.

11. Tie some cordage across theopen tops of the “Y” sticks tohold the hinge in place.

12. To set the trap, swing the doorinward until it is parallel withthe surface of the water andprop it open with a thin stick orreed as a trigger.

13. Tie a piece of rotten meat to theback of the horseshoe, andcheck the trap once a day.

Once the silt has settled from instal-lation of the trap, a snapping turtle,smelling the bait, will swim into thetrap. The trigger stick propping openthe door will be dislodged as the tur-tle moves toward the bait. When thedoor closes, striking the shell, theturtle will move forward toward thebait, allowing the door to close com-pletely. The stake at the entranceprevents the door from swingingopen, rocks prevent a diggingescape, and the turtle will not be ableto climb up and over the walls. Youcan feed the turtle and keep it aliveuntil you are ready to eat it.

Note: If the horseshoe is not longenough, the door will fall onto theturtle’s back without closing com-pletely, and the turtle will escape.

Snapping turtles are strong and fastwith their mouths; take great carewhen dealing with them.


Traps can be made in many varia-tions for different situations. Yourimagination is your only limitation.

As the daylight faded, the birds next to the stream were alarming.I moved out onto a gravel bar and sat to wait for them to settledown and become silent. Storm clouds rolled in from the west,soft thunder providing background to the continuous calls ofbirds. I was feeling a bit dreamy—it took me a few minutes torealize that the raucous din of kingbirds, robins, and catbirds wasnot about me. No, the intensity and duration of the alarms, com-bined with the fact that they were made well above the ground,indicated an avian predator. I watched the silhouettes of birdsdance and swarm around something hidden in the high branchesof the massive sycamore across the stream. I crept down thegravel bar and watched as the great horned owl dropped from herperch and floated down valley to disappear into the wall of for-est. I’d disturbed her and the birds suddenly became quiet.

Day 2

Thunder cracked and lightning cut the black night as we sataround the fire last night. The rain began, yet the hemlockfoliage above us kept it at bay—at least in the beginning. Iwatched raindrops appear as black spots on red coals andquickly fade away. I stayed by the fire quite late, mesmerized bythe glow and warmth. There’s something about fire . . .

The storm raged throughout the night, with rain comingdown in absolute torrents. The vestibule began to leak early;there were so many leaks that I now refer to the structure as the“sieve.” I attempted to curl into the smallest shape possible, yetthe number of leaks dripping on me were uncountable. In shorttime, Mike, who was also in the vestibule, and I were soaked to

(continued from page 9)

the bone. David was warm and dry, tucked in the “debris hut”portion of the shelter.

For those who struggle to envision a “debris hut,” try to pic-ture a massive pile of leaves. There is an opening, though, justsmall enough to wiggle inside. The tiny chamber, which is cre-ated by a skeletal framework of sticks and the ground, is customdesigned to fit the builder. It is more like a leafy sleeping bagthan a tent—small, simple, well camouflaged, and effective.

As morning approached, the temperatures chilled, and I feltfingers of cold down my back and across my chest. Sleep wassporadic. I woke again with first light and the crackle of Mike’sfire, and I rose to dry my clothes and skin.We began our daypassing a bowl of hemlock tea. Not poison hemlock, but madefrom the foliage of the eastern hemlock tree. While I washed thebowl in the stream below, I spent time with a northernwaterthrush, which bobbed its tail rapidly atop a log while sus-piciously eyeing me.

Mike escorted me to a white pine that he and David hadfelled to make containers. I began by making a watertight cook-ing container, which I tested in a nearby spring. Seams areavoided by folding the bark rather than slitting it, and securing

it with rootlets. The design issimple and effective. I allowedthe water to sit as I created asecond, cylindrical, more“aesthetic” container for fun.The first container held trueand flavored the water lightlywith pine—wonderful.

I headed down the valleyto wander and explore, withhopes of gathering berriesand collecting hand-drillmaterials for fire making. Thewind swayed trees and grassesalike, and storm clouds rolledin with incredible speed. I


Waterproof folded-bark container

stood beside a massive white oak, protected from the slantedsheets of rain. I sat down and suddenly realized I was sur-rounded in arrowwood—a plant I’d only heard was in the areaand a useful plant should I decide to make a hunting bow andarrows. The storm had forced me to slow down.

For the second afternoon shower I hid less successfullybehind a younger sugar maple. Returning to camp, I worked theleather I had brought into asmall bag. A simple design withsimple lacing—plain, functional,and beautifully natural.

Mike joined me, carrying amassive load of raspberries andearly blackberries. We gorgedourselves but still saved one-third for David. Mike had plansto hunt the southern valley andcheck in on a young woodchuckhe’d noticed along the stream. Idecided to tag along.

We moved silently through the woods, both armed withthrowing sticks. The mud felt invigorating and cool against myfeet, but the rain had also unleashed a distracting mass of gnats.We followed the stream a bit, and Mike stopped to explainwhere the woodchuck had previously been and what our strate-gic approach should be. After establishing a visual signal toindicate the prey was in sight, we began to stalk downstream.Slowly moving one foot in front of the other, we balanced our-selves carefully in the current. Our feet soon found naturalcatches by themselves. As I sank into the flow of the stream andsurrounding woodland, the distraction of the gnats faded away.In moments like these, I lose track of time altogether.

I’m not sure how far we’d gone, but I noticed a creaturewhipping downstream along the bank next to us. I chirpedsoftly to signal Mike to stop, and we both watched a mink lopepast and disappear over a gravel bar downstream. Mike ges-tured that he was going to follow her, and I signaled that I was


bullet hole

Leather bag

heading for a mud patch I’dseen her cross. I found perfecttracks—small, perfect tracks.

As I knelt, attempting toabsorb every detail of the pat-tern and tracks, I heard Mike

chirp. I looked at him and he mouthed, “coming back.” I lookeddownstream and caught the mink on her way up toward me, abit higher on the bank. She held an enormous crayfish in herjaws, its massive claws dangling from one side of her mouth andits tail sticking out the other. She passed not five feet from me,her stunning chocolate coat glistening with the flex of her mus-cles. Dappled sunlight accented her fur as she passed, and Inoticed for the first time that her tail was not uniform in color.It was banded, alternating dark chocolate brown and a milkchocolate brown. You learn so much from glimpses of wildcreatures.

Mike and I stared at each other, grinning ear to ear. Hecame over to study the tracks. We stood, more content thanimaginable. The mink was hunting downstream and then car-rying her entire prey back upstream a considerable distancealong a well-traveled route. It seemed to me that she was show-ing signs of rearing young. I whispered to Mike it was likelyshe’d return along the same route. As I spoke the words, Iwatched Mike’s eyes bulge, and he nodded upstream over myshoulder. I turned and began to watch the mink progressquickly toward us along her commuter route, the trail in whichwe stood. Closer and closer she loped, twenty feet, fifteen, ten—she did not slow down. She stopped at our feet and began tosniff around. She locked her eyes on our ankles and then slowlybegan to look from our feet to our knees to our waists to ourchests to our eyes. Then recognition was instant, and she turnedand bounded upstream. Wow!

We kept walking downstream, reliving the moment overand over again. We’d have reminisced along the stream all after-noon if we hadn’t been rerouted by two stream walkers and adog—unusual this far off trail. So we moved to investigate two


Mink tracks

front rear

ponds where muskrat activity was high. The ponds were sur-prisingly small, and the high muskrat population had estab-lished an incredible trail network in the surrounding fields,where the muskrats fed on all sorts of herbaceous plants as wellas woody plants such as wild roses.

As we approached the second pond, Mike signaled to stopand look. A muskrat was swimming a few feet offshore, explor-ing the tussocks that lined this side of the pond. The animal wasan easy shot with the throwing stick. I don’t know why Mikedidn’t throw. For me, I wasn’t ready to take the life of a muskrat.I wasn’t really hungry yet, and part of me felt I needed to suffera bit before I was allowed to kill. Stupid, really. I think I must beafraid of something or some part of myself.

Rather than throw sticks, we watched the muskrat explore,dive, and reappear over and over again. Finally, the animal dis-appeared into a bank burrow. As we began to circle back towardcamp, Mike said, “I never know whether to watch or thump’em.” Eventually, we must “thump” in order to live freely inthese woods. What a lesson is in store for me.

We ended the evening with a swim and collection of spices,jewelweed, and lady’s thumb. David appeared with more berriesand stories of adventures. Jewelweed is amazingly filling.

Day 3

The night was chilly. Although I had rebuilt the “sieve,” I hadn’tpacked it with leaves. Watertight, but chilly. I had enough leavesto cover my body from pelvis to chest, which was just enoughto finish the night without shivering. I rose early to warm by thefire and watch sunlight fill the valley below. The sky was clear ofclouds and the sun shone clear and bright.

We decided to have a minnow and crayfish bake in the after-noon. So, off I went to gather materials for a minnow catcher Ihad been designing in my mind—essentially a shallow basket onthe end of a stick. With construction under way, it was a bit ugly,and I rather hoped function would outperform form.


As I wandered back to camp with basket and pole, I discov-ered an abandoned white-footed mouse nest. A loose ball of innerbarks formed the walls and held the sleeping chamber. Hickorynuts lay strewn about beneath the nest and inside as well.

A beaming Mike greeted me upon my arrival. He held aCanada goose aloft. The bird appeared to be fully grown, butincomplete flight feathers had held the young bird grounded.Mike was eager to eat, so we began preparations immediately.

In the short time I was out there, I noticed an enhancementin my taste buds. Possibly I was just paying more attention towhat and how often I was eating. But a meal of roast goose, witha side of watercress and spinach-like lady’s-thumb electrifiedmy taste buds. And this is survival living? I just hoped we’d beable to maintain the food supply.

The goose had outstanding flavor—no spices were neces-sary. The liver was the best-tasting liver I’d ever had. Mike evenmade me try the heart. As we drank the broth and chewed onthe greens, David and I managed to persuade Mike to relay histale of the full hunt, in true native fashion.

He told us he was circling past a small pond and saw a familyof geese. The young were large but flightless. As Mike approached,the entire family took to water for safety. Adult Canada geese pairand mate for life, so Mike began to scope out the younger birds.He planned his attack but missed with both throwing sticks. Thenhe turned to using stones. He said he threw innumerable stonesbefore he managed to stun a bird adequately to reach it and makea swift kill. Oh, we laughed at his persistence!

Some might argue this was not a perfectly executed hunt—we certainly did—yet we reveled in the gift of the goose. Wewere not sport hunters and knew we had much to learn.

We lounged about a bit during the afternoon, bellies full.Mike and I went to study the mouse nest again. We discoveredmore mouse signs in the area and a raccoon skull. We also wentto check on a skull Mike had seen while running earlier in theweek. It turned out to be the skull of a gray squirrel.

Skulls are stunning in form—all similar, yet each intricatelydifferent. I just recently learned that you could interpret the


relative age of a male fisher by the development of the “ridge,”or sagittal crest, along the top of the skull.

We organized a group hike in search of a new campsite.While out exploring, we walked right up to a singing veery, theinfamous “underwater flute” of the northeastern woods. Wewalked to within several feet of the bird. While the muted speck-les on his chin and upper chest vibrated with music, the soft rustof his back held still. Able to create two notes simultaneously, theveery’s song spiraled and twisted, flowing from perch to thicket.The bird’s eyes kept a wary watch over his audience.

Next, we hit the massive raspberry patch at the northernend of the hill. We gorged like bears. I ate and ate, deep in thebush, listening to the rustling of companions doing the same.On we searched, arguing the pros and cons of various loca-tions. Our number-one prerequisite was a spot unlikely to bevisited by some lost or wandering human being. Our currentcamp was in an area where people are known to occasionallyfish and hike.

We finally agreed on a spot high up on a ridge—a beautifulspot where an updraft kept smoke and air on the move. Leaf lit-ter, which we needed for shelters, was high, and we were in anarea where people rarely, if ever, passed through. We’d foundour new home.

David announced a decision he’d been mulling over. Hehad decided he needed to visit his family and girlfriend once aweek. He said he never realized he’d feel so lonely out here, orhow much he needed others. We all agreed to be less fanatic. Wewere here to learn about self and planet, not to punish our-selves. David left immediately.

Day 4

Mike and I slept alone in the “sieve camp.” Further work on theshelter resulted in a warm, cozy night, and I listened to a greathorned owl screech at dusk and dawn. It was an odd morning.Both Mike and I were struck with an extraordinary lethargy. My


head was slightly groggy and my vision a bit altered. Nothingdramatic—just a bit off. I wondered whether it might havebeen the milkweed flowers we’d gathered in a nearby meadowand eaten the night before. They tasted especially bitter andundercooked, yet we forced them down. I couldn’t rememberwhat I had read about the effects of milkweed poisoning, but Idid know they needed to be cooked in multiple changes ofwater to avoid nasea and sickness. Perhaps we hadn’t changedthe water enough times or the bark containers had absorbedthat which we were trying to remove.

We hiked the ridge, which took greater effort than it shouldhave, to start construction of our debris huts. We reached ourdestination and immediately sat down to recuperate. Thereseemed no rush, so we chatted, watched wood thrushes sing,and listened to scarlet tanagers in the canopy. This was a specialplace. The hemlocks were older than the surrounding trees, anda vista was afforded by a steep drop at the edge of camp. A goodfeeling lingered about the area. We’d done well.

While we sat, David reappeared with news of eating burri-tos and fruit sorbet, and of an oncoming three-day storm. Thatwas just what we needed to hear to get motivated, and within afew hours we had completed our debris huts. While building, Itook frequent breaks, still groggy. But I managed a functionaldebris hut, equipped with awning and all the trimmings.

So why was I lethargic? There’s the milkweed theory, andMike and I had been discussing possible side effects of transi-tioning from wedding foods and modern cheer to a hundred-percent wild diet of bitter plants and organic meats. Whoknows? Could also be linked to the fact I hadn’t had a bowelmovement since I arrived. Food went in but hung in limbo.

I was actually looking forward to seeing my poo. I thoughtthat if it looked enough like raccoon or bear scat, I’d start leav-ing piles along stone walls or next to dominant conifers uponwhich I would scratch claw marks with my knife. What fun!Our debris huts completed, the three of us built a frame for acentral shelter that we would use for cooking and hanging out.We opted for separate debris huts in which to sleep for two


main reasons: (1) they require no fire to stay warm and are there-fore more energy efficient; and (2) our central shelter is kept sep-arate to create distance between food and our own shelters. Mydebris hut is made for one, not one plus a raccoon or fox.


There are many ways to build shel-ters and many environments inwhich to build them. The woodlandshelter described here is called the“debris hut,” introduced to themodern world by Tom Brown, Jr.The debris hut is a small, easilyconstructed, snug little “burrow”; ifbuilt correctly, it can keep you warmand dry even in the harshest of win-ter storms.

The debris hut is nothing morethan a framework of sticks filledand covered with leaves and otherforest debris. The purpose of theleaves is similar to that of wool in asweater. The leaves, if adequatelystuffed into the frame, create anarea of dead air space around you.It is then possible for your body toheat up the hut and keep you warm,even when wet.

I have never slept so well as thenights I have spent in my debrishuts, but I must warn you that yourfirst few nights may not be so rest-

ful. Leaves do not immediately offerthe same security that we associatewith blankets, but after a night ortwo, you might find the leavespreferable.

The following are guidelines forlocating and building a one-persondebris hut.

FINDING A SUITABLE LOCATIONOne of the first orders of businessis to find a suitable location for yourhut. After all, a good shelter in abad location is a bad shelter.

1. Resources. An area without leaflitter will provide a challengewhen it comes to building a shel-ter. Look for an area with lots ofleaf litter, such as a flat area in amixed-wood forest.

2. Grade. Sleeping on a slightincline may prove to be a lessonin frustration. Anything beyond

Shelter


even the slightest incline canleave you cramped and some-what crumpled on the downhillside of your shelter. Look for aflat area on which to build.

3. Drainage. The beautiful, grassymeadow near the creek is likely afloodplain. Find some higherground on which to build. Lookat your proposed shelter area andtry to imagine where water willrun in a torrential downpour.

4. Safety. Always check the areasboth overhead and upslope fromyour shelter. Are there big deadbranches or trees that may fall andinjure you? Are there large rocksthat could roll when the soil belowthem is eroded by rain, andsquash you in your shelter? It isalso a good idea to check forrocks or roots that may be uncom-fortable to sleep on. Remember,your goal is to survive.

5. Experience. If you practice build-ing shelters in varied locations,you’ll get a better sense of whichmaterials will work and howmuch material you’ll need. Ifyou’re an experienced builder,you’ll save yourself a lot of valu-able time in an involuntary sur-vival situation; you’ll know howto build, and, equally important,you’ll know where to build.Remember, there’s no such thingas a “perfect spot,” so don’twaste time searching for it.


CONSTRUCTIONOnce you have your spot pickedout, the initial construction goespretty quickly. You will be workingfirst with a ridgepole, a support forthe ridgepole, ribbing, and smallbrushy material to cover the rib-bing. You will also need to payattention to the size of your shelteras you build it.

1. The ridgepole. The ridgepole is astraight branch or sapling thatfunctions as the primary supportfor the structure. It should belonger than you are tall by atleast two feet and strong enoughto hold your weight. Make surethat there are no ants or othercritters already using it as ahome.

2. Support for the ridgepole. Findsomething about waist high withwhich to support one end of theridgepole. A fork in a tree, abranch, or a rock will work, oryou can construct something byusing a “Y” stick or two. (Becareful—I know of one fellowwho broke his arm when hisimproperly secured support col-lapsed.)

3. Measurements. The followingmeasurements are for coldweather. In warmer times, shel-ters can be made more spaciousinside and use less insulationoutside. Your ridgepole shouldrun from your support to theground. When you lie down

under it on your back, your toesshould be a couple of inchesbelow the ridgepole at the lowerend. To measure the height of theupper end, roll onto your side.Your upper shoulder should beone hand’s length from the bot-tom of the ridgepole.

4. Ribbing. Once the pole is set,start laying ribbing (sticks)against it, creating an A-frame.Gather sticks from thumb thick-ness to wrist thickness. Whenyou lay them against the ridge-pole, it is important that your rib-bing does not protrude morethan three or four inches abovethe ridgepole. If the ribbing is toohigh, you’ll invite the possibilityof water running down the rib-bing or ridgepole and into yourshelter. When you are lying onyour back, centered under theridgepole, the ribbing at yourshoulders should be one hand’slength away on either side. To dothis, lie on your back, centeredunder the ridgepole. Reach your


right hand across your chest, andput a twig into the ground onehand’s length away from yourshoulder. Repeat for the left side.As you apply the ribbing, you cantaper it in toward your feet. Atthis point, you should havesomething resembling a woodentent with one open end. Placeribs over one-half of the openend. The other half will serve asyour doorway. Another option isto completely block off the endand remove a few of the ribsfrom the side for a doorway.Different situations require differ-ent types of “doors,” as I will dis-cuss later.

5. Shelter size. Until you have builta number of shelters, it is wise toperiodically get in and check forsize. If you can’t breathe withoutmoving the shelter’s frame, youmight want to enlarge it. If youhave enough room for a socialevent, you ought to downsize.

6. Small brushy material. Now laysmall brushy material, such as

Debris hut frame

the thin, upper branches of fallendead trees, in a crosshatch man-ner over the ribbing. The purposeis to keep the soon-to-be-applieddebris from falling down into theshelter and your eyes.

LEAF GATHERINGThe “digging dog” technique of leafgathering works well. Start wellaway from your shelter and, usingyour fingers as a rake, move back-ward, flinging the leaves betweenyour legs and toward the shelter. Invery short order you should have abig pile of leaves (check them forants before putting them on yourshelter). Start gathering leaves—lots and lots of leaves. Keep gather-ing leaves; do not stop. Cover theentire shelter with mounds ofleaves, then pack them. The mosteffective packing technique is toactually slide the leaves down alongthe ribs. Basically, you reach up tothe top of the pile and bring yourhands downward in the same direc-tion as the ribbing. It is shockinglydisappointing to see how far leaves


will compact in this manner.Continue with the piling and pack-ing until the leaf layer is about fourfeet thick for winter use.

In summer, an arm’s length thick-ness seems to do the trick. Youcan’t cheat here. You could looselypile leaves to four feet and thenfreeze all night—not the greatestidea in the world. Once the ribs arecovered with leaves, lay loose barkor dead branches over the shelter tokeep the leaves from blowing away.

STUFFING THE INSIDENow it’s time to stuff the inside.Some people like to be picky here,removing all the sticks and otherlumpy debris from their leaf pilebefore stuffing their shelter full of it;others pick out the undesirables asthey find them while attempting tosleep. Once the inside is packedproperly, you should have troublegetting into your shelter the firsttime due to the quantity of leaves. Ialways start barefoot and slowlyworm my way in until I am all theway into the shelter. I then begin

Finished debris hut

rolling around to pack the leavesgiving me more space to—youguessed it—stuff it with moreleaves! I also use my legs to pushand compress the leaves into theshelter as much as possible. It isamazing how compressed all thoseleaves become in a short period oftime. Therefore, it’s better to gathermore than you think you will neednow, while you are in leaf-gatheringmode, than at one in the morningwhen you’re too cold to sleep. Incold weather, this step is vital. Do itright and don’t skimp.

It is a good idea to keep youreyes closed as you enter and exitthe shelter. In this way, you canavoid any falling debris. I also givethe ridgepole a good kick beforeentering; this knocks most of theloose material out of the “ceiling”and decreases the chance of itfalling in my eyes.

DOORSThere are a number of ways to con-struct a door for this type of shelter,one of which is the plug. This door


type consists of two disks, usuallymade by loosely “weaving” greenbranches in the shape of the dooropening. Leaves are sandwichedbetween the two disks (like a cookie),then are lashed together with moregreen branches or cordage. Whenyou crawl backward into the shelter,you simply pull the plug into theopening (it should be a tight fit) andleave it there for the night.

Another option, and the one I pre-fer, is to have a “door pile,” which issimply a heap of leaves that youcompress with your arms and pullin after yourself. Once pressure isreleased, the pile of leaves expands,nicely filling the opening.

OPTIONS FOR THE DEBRIS HUTThere is no end to how elaborate adebris hut can be. I often settle forthe basic hut with an awning overthe door, or maybe a little area inwhich I can crouch and work onrainy days. If I’m in a bit of a rush,I’ll just pile some leaves togetherand burrow in.

Debris hut with awning

This is a fine shelter if you canmanage to sleep in one position.Unfortunately, movement will dis-lodge all the leaves and you willwake up cold within a few minutes.

POINTERSKeep a big pile of spare leaves out-side your shelter; in this way, in theevent of a leak, you have the patch-ing material ready. You will also findthat, after a few weeks in one shel-ter, the bedding leaves will becomepulverized into powder. Therefore,you must periodically pull out the


bedding leaves, heap them on topof the hut, and get fresh ones forthe inside.

For your first attempt, you maywant to substitute a sleeping bagfor the bedding leaves, then moveto just leaves over time. This willallow you to become familiar withsleeping inside the debris hut.

Please understand that exposureis a real danger in the outdoors.Practice shelter building in warmweather with backups until youhave a firm grasp and understand-ing of the debris hut.

Good luck, and sweet dreams.

We hiked throughout the afternoon in search of animalsigns, hunting areas, and new places to explore. We found a mas-sive raspberry patch on the hill to the northwest of camp. As wecircled back, we walked the streamto gather crayfish for dinner.

Crayfishing is wonderful funand a very social event indeed.Each in turn, we swore loudlywhen crayfish outwitted ourattack approaches or clampeddown on fingers. Curses werequickly followed by roars of laughter. Ah, the therapy of laughter!We also learned why the crayfish were fleeing for the tussocks. Aswe felt along the base of the grass clumps, we found holes. Deepwhere fingers could not be watched, crayfish congregated—butnow, no longer safe from their pursuers. Holes varied in size anddepth, but all were one-stop shopping for crayfish. That is, ofcourse, if you didn’t mind the occasional pinch.


We also harvested lamb’s-quarters, a green leafy plant, onour way back, following the stream down toward the sievecamp. We decided to eat at the old camp, as we needed water forcooking and had not brought containers to carry it up the hill.We were in good cheer and arrived to find that one of Mike’sfriends had stopped by and left us a six-inch trout. We ate that,too. Apparently, before I arrived, Mike had told a friend wherethis camp stood. Another reason to move.

Day 5

We awoke to a hard rain, and I discovered a small leak onone leg in the reconstructed “sieve.” Hopefully, my new shelteratop the ridge to the north had fared better than this one. Wehad prearranged to meet in anold abandoned shack, shouldwe wake to rain. I was the firstto arrive, chilly and soakedthoroughly. It wasn’t longbefore David and Mike arrivedand a fire was drying ourclothes and warming our bod-ies. We huddled under the tinyroof, just large enough for usand a small fire. We worked onprojects. I coal-burned a spoonand worked on cordage forsnares.


Pounding basswood for fibers

Weaving fibers into cordage

rock


The layout of your camp is impor-tant. For example, you want to makesure your latrine area is downhillfrom your camp and well away fromany water source to avoid contami-nation. Also, having your food stor-age and cooking areas separate,clean, and away from your sleepingquarters is a good way to avoid ani-mal visitors both large and small. Acommon mistake among campingparties is gathering firewood andfood close to camp, slowly depletingtheir closest supplies. Keeping abuffer zone—an area surroundingyour camp in which you don’t har-vest food or firewood—is a precau-tion that can save your life. In theevent of an injury, heavy snows, orother movement inhibiting factors,you will have a good supply of mate-rials and food nearby.

There are numerous other detailsto make camp life a little easier, ifnot downright luxurious. Tongs,hand vises, hide scrapers, diggingsticks, and fire pits (with all theattachments) can really improve lifeoutdoors.

FOOD STORAGEOne way to protect your stores is totoss a line over a high branch, tie a


food satchel to it, and haul it aloft.As long as the satchel is highenough without being too close tothe branch above, or to the treetrunk, it should be out of reach ofmost critters.

Another way to keep food safe is ina storage pit. Dry areas are best forlong-term storage, but any soil typewill work for short-term storage.

One type of pit can be made bydigging a hole in the ground abouttwo feet deep, two feet wide, and aslong as needed. Four inches fromthe top of the hole, widen the pit allthe way around by four inches tocreate a “shelf.” Line the pit up tothe bottom of the “shelf” withstone, and pack the seams with araw clay or mud and grass mixture.Make a small fire inside to drive outany moisture.

Making Camp

Storage pit

For the lid, cut sapling trunks thewidth of the hole plus eight inchesfor the “shelf” on each side. Lashthe trunks together until you have alid that can be rested on the “shelf”over the hole.

For handles, a piece of saplingwith two branches growing out of itcan be lashed to two opposing cor-ners of the lid. Paste over the lidwith the grass and mud mixture in afew one-inch thick coats. Let it drybetween each coat to avoid crack-ing. Cover the last coat with leaveswhile the mixture is still wet, as thisaids in camouflage of the cache andadds a little rain protection.

Dried grasses or leaves should beplaced in the pit and the foodnested within. Adding dried aro-matic plants to the pit, like sweetfern or mint, can help mask any lin-gering food scents. Once food isinside the bin, the top can be laid inplace and sealed with more clay ormud for an extended absence, orcovered with more leaves if thefood will be used every day. Piecesof bark with leaves piled on top can


be laid over the lid as added protec-tion against the weather.

TONGSTongs are used to pick up hot rockswhen you are rock boiling, to pickup coals for coal burning, and tomove other hot food items in or outof the fire. To make a pair of tongs:

1. Cut a straight branch twentyinches in length and about one-half inch in diameter.

2. In the middle of your stick, shavea four-inch section on one side,thin enough so that you can bendthe stick in half fully withoutbreaking it. The shaved sectionacts as a spring, holding thetongs in the open position.

To aid in the bending process,submerge the shaved section inhot water or steam, then bend itslowly over a round, one-inch-diameter form or stick.

3. Once the stick is bent, tie onearm to the other while the tongsare opened about three or fourinches.

Lid for storage pit

Tongs

Variations for TongsA ‘“Y” stick can be used for tongsto provide better stability for liftingrocks or food.

Cut a three-inch-long section ofsapling a couple of inches in diame-ter, and bend the longer “Y” stickaround it. The short piece reducesstrain on the hinge area and helpsthe tongs last much longer.


CAMP VISEA simple locking pair of pliers isgreat for working on small projectssuch as projectile heads or bonehooks. To make a camp vise:

1. Cut a one-and-a-half-inch-diame-ter hardwood branch to a lengthof six inches.

2. Taper one end and split it in halflengthwise.

3. Pinch a quarter-inch-diameterbranch between the two splitpieces so that the ends stick outeither side at the middle.

Tongs

Camp vise

4. Lash the quarter-inch branch inplace.

5. Carve a wooden wedge, and youare ready to work.

6. Place your project in the taperedend of the vice and then force thewedge into the other end, pinch-ing and securely holding thework piece.

SCRAPERSScrapers for working hides can betough to make. Discussed here aretwo types, the broad scraper andthe stake scraper.

The Broad ScraperThe goal in making a broad scraperis to create a square edge. This canbe done by removing much of oneside of a straight leg bone (from adeer or larger animal) and sharpen-ing one edge to at least ninetydegrees.


1. Score two parallel lines one inchor more apart for the length ofthe bone (not including the knobsat each end).

2. With a stone, carefully knock outthe bone between the lines. To beprecise with your strikes, hold asmaller stone or chisel stone inplace with one hand, then strikewith a larger stone in your otherhand.

3. A little abrading work is requiredto smooth the edges. This is arather tedious process but isworth it if you plan on tanningmany hides.

The Stake ScraperThe stake scraper is far simpler tomake and is well suited to workinga hide strung on a rack.

1. Starting with a straight leg bone(from a deer or larger animal),score a diagonal line around oneend to form a chisel-like tip.

Broad scraper

2. Break the bone along the scoreline and abrade it to remove anybarbs that might damage the hide (see “Rawhide and Sinew,” page 221).

3. Tie a loop of rawhide or cordageto the unworked end so that theloop sits around your wrist andadds support while you are work-ing the hide.

DIGGING STICKA digging stick is a superb tool forall manner of digging tasks, from


digging up edible roots to diggingout a food storage pit. Diggingsticks are best made from a pieceof green hardwood like beech oroak, although softer wood will usu-ally do the trick. The piece of woodshould be one and one-quarter inchin diameter and twenty-four incheslong. One end can be carved orground to a round point and theother to a flat, chisel-like point. Fireharden both ends (see “HuntingTools,” page 157) and you are readyto dig.

Stake scraper

Digging stick

FIRE PITSOf the many ways to build a fire pit,the keyhole pit is one of the moreversatile pits I have used. Dug inthe shape of an old-fashioned key-hole, this pit allows for all kinds ofcooking.

The round portion is good forgeneral use, cooking fish and ash-cakes, working tools, and providinglight and heat.

The box or smaller rectangularsection can be used for a variety oftasks. For roasting, use “Y” stickson either side to hold a spit. A rockcan be placed over the top, slowlyheated, and used to fry food. Coalscan be raked into the box until therocks are hot and then removed.Meat or veggies put inside arebaked in the residual heat from thestones. Rocks for rock boiling areeasier to remove from the fire whenthe area is smaller, because youspend less time hunting around forthem. A flat stone leaned againstthe back of the box can be used fordrying mashed berries or other


foods (see “Preserving and StoringFood,” page 101).

Fire pits lined with rocks will holdheat longer and protect against fireleaving the fire area. When youleave camp for the day, heap thecoals together in the box and coverthem with ash, where they will lastfor a day or more. In the case ofbonfires, a rainfall wetting the topfew inches of ash can seal the coalsin, keeping out the drafts and allow-ing a very slow burning of fuel. Inthis case, fire can be coaxed fromthem for days afterward.

It is important to be mindful ofthe fire danger in your area. Alwaysbe on the lookout for overhangingbranches and flammable debrisnearby. Lining a fire pit with stones,clay, mud, or a mixture of any ofthese can prevent the fire from trav-eling along dead roots under-ground. In most cases, keeping acontainer of water or soil nearby ishandy for dowsing or smothering arunaway fire. Leaving a fire unat-tended or in a windy area can berisky, so use caution.

Keyhole fire pit

We chatted and reminisced about days when we had workedtogether and all the changes in our lives since then. We discussedthe goals of our summer and our current status. We each had adifferent expectation, which is no real surprise. My goal was to“survive,” not to work on fine skills, but to have the experience ofactual survival for a period long enough that I had to be huntingand harvesting successfully. David wanted to focus his time onpracticing a variety of crafts. We did agree to move more slowlyinto survival; there is so much to do when you plunge into thislifestyle: making shelters, retrieving water, making fires, andgathering food—a lifestyle that involves snares, huntingweapons, containers, and cooking rocks. The list is endless.

Mike left the woods to fetch a bag of granola and returnedseveral hours later. I consented to having two handfuls becauseI still wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. That was all I needed togo from slightly light-headed and groggy to feeling absolutelyfine. It felt good to let go of my expectations. We had discussedso little before we came together. What was important was thatI was learning.

The storm cleared in the afternoon and we celebrated witha dip in the roaring stream and a much needed wash with soap-wort, which grew in dense quantities in moist lowlands innearby meadows. By the time we made it back to camp, it wasraining again. We worked on the group shelter, movingquickly—too quickly. The shelter collapsed sideways. As therain increased, we ran for our debris huts.

I lay, buried in sticks, leaves, and needles—warm, comfort-able, and dry. I watched the rain come down in continuoussheets of water outside my awning. The sound of rain on adebris shelter is similar to the sound of rain on a tent. I could-n’t help but smile, cozy in my shelter, watching the storm soakthe earth around me. As I began to drift off, I suddenly foundmyself face-to-face with a short-tailed shrew, who ran off intothe rain as quickly as it had appeared. I felt very grateful.



Day 6

We all began our day slowly. I made more cordage while hud-dling close to the small fire, which fought back the chill in theair. It felt like spring rather than summer. We all decided tohunt. Mike went north and David and I went south.

David and I encountered two young deer feeding along afield edge. I followed them a bit, stalking to within about twentyfeet. Saplings crisscrossed between us, making a shot with mythrowing stick too difficult to risk. But I enjoyed the “chase”tremendously; hunting seems to tingle primitive roots deep


Debris hut

opening closed off with pile of leaves

frame of sticksforked stick

within me. Is it odd that through killing animals I hoped to feelcloser to earth and natural rhythms? Or is it odder still that Ihad grown up eating a variety of meats that I didn’t kill?

David separated and circled down valley to stalk a fewturkeys. As he entered the wood line, he spooked a great hornedowl, which flew silently just over my head and across the field tothe sanctuary of forest across the stream. I lost track of Davidamong the trees, and I moved on in search of muskrats.

After I felt I’d had enough exploring, I sat along a streambank and worked on fish line. A tiny shrew—maybe one and ahalf inches long with an equivalent tail length, visible eyes, mas-sive ears, and a brownish tinge on the head and back—enter-tained me for a long stretch. Could be a pygmy or cinereusshrew—I’ve read they can be distinguished only by dental for-mula. I followed the wee beast along the bank very closely,watching as it explored every nook and root system. It bur-rowed under leaves and sprinted through forests of toweringgrass blades. The shrew moved in lightning bursts interspersedwith short pauses. Absolutely amazing—the smallest maturemammal I’ve ever seen!


Meal preparation is a true delight,especially when you are hungry andhave food to work with. Positivelyidentify all plants before you con-sume them. Use a field guide or askan herbalist to be sure you are col-lecting safe plants. Now, let me giveyou some tips for using wild veg-etables and meats, and for prepar-ing food in a cook pit.

VEGETABLES• Wild carrot or Queen Anne’s lace

can be eaten raw, added to soupor salad, or roasted.

• Burdock root can be prepared likewild carrot.

• Bulrush seed can be cooked inwater as porridge. Add honeyand/or berries if attainable. Beginby rock boiling water (see “Rock

Meal Preparation and Cooking


Boiling,” page 119); add the seedsand stir.

• Wild garlic, leeks, chives, garlicmustard, hog peanut, andJerusalem artichoke can be addedto meals as flavor enhancers, nib-bled raw as a snack, or cooked.

• Milkweed pods can be harvestedbefore they open. Put enoughwater in two containers so thateach can easily allow the pods tosubmerge as well as accommo-date the rocks. Rock-boil one con-tainer, then add the pods. As thewater turns murky, add hot rocksto a second container. Only whenthis is boiling, move the pods tothe clean, hot water. Then, dumpthe first container and refill it withclean water. Add rocks and boilyet again. Add pods to this thirdchange of hot water, and afterthree minutes, remove and eat.Note: Do not remove the podsfrom hot water and place them incold water, because this caninhibit the leaching out of the sap.Hastily cooked pods will lead tonausea.

MEATS• Trout up to about eleven inches in

length can be stuffed with herbsor herb paste and steamed. (Garlicmustard leaves, mustard seeds,chives, and leeks are a few herbsthat can be ground into a paste,either together or separately.) Youcan also smear lacerations on the


outside of the fish with seasoningbefore wrapping the fish in wildgrape leaves. Place the fish in theashes near the coals. White ash,not actual coals, should cover theentire fish. If you don’t want toturn the fish to cook both sides,rake the coals into a circle aroundthe ash-covered fish; this willensure even cooking. An eight-inch trout should take about fourto six minutes to cook (overcook-ing is better than undercooking).Carefully remove the trout. Thegrape leaves should be dry on theoutside and stuck together. Blowoff any loose ash and remove theleaves. If the back fin pulls outwith ease, the fish is cooked—steamed in its own juices and inthose of the herbs.

• Large trout (longer than eleveninches) are better roasted with astick jammed through the mouthand stuck deep into the tail. Startwith the back (spine) down, asthis is the thickest part. Then cookeither side and finish with a quickheat underneath. Cooking trout onsticks to perfection requires somepractice. Cook the fish too long onone side and it will spin on thecooking stick, possibly ending upin the fire. If you think a side isdone, try to remove a fin. If itpulls out cleanly with the internalbone still attached, that side isdone. Once the trout is roasted,lay it on a slab of bark and removethe fins and head (eat the cheeks).

Gently separate the two sides ofthe fish by cutting the skin alongthe spine and pulling the head ofthe spine up and away from thelower side. A stick may berequired to help separate the filletfrom the ribs and spine. Thisshould give you one boneless fil-let. Now simply pull the spineaway from the remaining side. Usegarlic mustard leaves in lieu of autensil. Not only does this giveyou the illusion that your handswill not get greasy, it adds a fan-tastic flavor to the trout.

• Snapping turtle should not becooked in its own shell. You willonly burn it. Instead, cut the meatout and roast or jerk it. Roastingwith herbs or jerking suit thismeat well. Prepare snapping turtleas you would venison.

• Venison can be prepared in many ways. The longest lasting is to make jerky (see “Preservingand Storing Food,” page 101). The easiest and juiciest way toprepare fresh meat is to simplytoss a chunk into the fire. Theoutside will burn and seal in themoisture, allowing the inner meatto steam in its own juices. After it has cooked for a bit (the largerthe piece the longer the cookingtime—you’ll have to experiment),pull it out with some tongs (see“Making Camp,” page 32) andbreak it open. It should be pink,not red. If it is still red, toss itback for a little longer. The


down side to this method is thatsome meat is lost when the out-side burns. Venison fat melts at avery high temperature and there-fore does not provide the naturalbasting action of other meats,such as goose or pork. If you aremaking venison kabobs or otherroasts, cook them to medium rareso that some of the juices areretained.

• Woodchuck is best eaten freshlyroasted, as its flesh is marbled;i.e., the fat appears throughout themeat, like bacon. (Woodchucksalso have a layer of fat next to thehide.) Because fat will eventuallyturn rancid and you can’t readilycut out every spot of it, wood-chuck jerky isn’t the best option.However, the fat melts at a lowertemperature than venison fat,making this animal great forroasting.

• Geese, ducks, turkeys, and grouseare all fantastic roasting birds. Thefat dribbles down the roastingstick into the fire, creating awe-some smells and a juicy meal todie for. If you don’t like liver as arule, try roasted goose liver. Itcan’t be topped.

PIT COOKINGThe cooking-pit method of prepar-ing food has a number of variations,yet the one described here is myfavorite. It is great for cooking largegame or big meals. I often cook a

few geese or turkeys, as well assome fish and corn, in one cooking.

How it WorksRocks are heated in a fire, thenmoved to the bottom of the cookpit, where they heat the soil andgrasses placed above. This createssteam, which surrounds and cooksthe food evenly from all directions.Rocks are also placed above thefood, radiating heat and ensuringthat the top of the bigger food itemsgets cooked as well. The soil pre-vents the grasses from burning andthus causing the food to dropdirectly onto the hot rocks. The bas-ket makes it easier to remove themiddle layer of soil without gettingyour food dirty.

The PitThe pit should be two or more feetdeep and wide enough to accom-modate everything you plan on


cooking in a single layer withoutany items touching each other. Keepthe soil in a pile close by, and pullout any rocks larger than grapefruitsize.

Supplies1. You will need enough rocks the

size of cantaloupes to cover thebottom of the pit two and a halftimes. Keep in mind that you willneed to move these rocks whenthey are red hot; therefore, onlyheat rocks you have the means tomove.

2. Harvest enough long grasses fortwo four-inch layers in the pit.

3. Create a safe place for a large firenear the cook pit (ten to fifteenfeet away), and gather plenty ofwood to keep the fire going for aminimum of two hours.

4. Harvest burdock or other largeleaves for covering the meat.

5. Find a forked stick or two long,

Pit cook layers

soil

hot rocks

soil

grasses

grid or basket

grasses

large leavesfood

grasses

soil

hot rocks

stout sticks to transfer hot rocksto the pit.

6. (Optional) Collect some one- totwo-inch-diameter saplings andlash them together to make agrid or basket that will just fitinside the pit.

Starting the FireOnce you have your supplies, startthe fire. Add the rocks to it and putmore wood on top of them beforemoving well away. I often use rocksdirectly from streams and havenever yet had one explode—and Ihope I never do. But to be safe, Imove off where I can still keep aneye on the fire to make sure it doesnot spread, yet not be in harm’sway if a rock does explode. (Thebeauty of the tipi fire is the fact thatit does not need to be tinkeredwith.) After an hour, you can safelyapproach the fire again.

Packing the PitAfter about two hours, the rocksshould be red hot and ready to bemoved into the pit.

Moving hot rocks is dangerous.One method is to carry them with aforked stick, and another is to dragthem on a piece of bark. Either way,pay attention and watch out for hotpieces of broken rock between thefire and the pit, and wear shoes.

Put one layer of hot rocks in thepit. It is okay if coals or ashes get inthere, too.


1. Cover the rocks with about threeor four inches of soil.

2. Add a four-inch layer of greengrass.

3. Place all items to be cooked onthe grasses, being careful thatnone are touching, as this canhinder the cooking process. Thelarger the item, the bigger themargin around it needs to be.

4. Cover items with burdock orother large leaves and then withabout two inches of grass.

5. Place the basket (optional) on topof the grass and add an addi-tional few inches of grass insidethe basket.

6. Add another four-inch layer ofsoil.

7. Add another layer of rocks.8. Finally, add another layer of soil.

Be careful not to pack or compressany of the layers in the pit, as thisresults in poor transmission of heatand circulation of steam.

A fifteen-pound bird takes abouttwo and a half hours to cook, but it does not hurt to let it cook longer . . . this is one bird that won’t dry out.

Grid, or basket

Opening the Pit1. Carefully remove the soil and hot

rocks.2. If you used a grid or basket, it

can be removed with any remain-ing soil. If not, carefully removeas much soil as possible byhand.

3. The grasses are, with luck, verygreen due to their recent steam-ing. If not, the food needs to becooked longer. Remove the hotgrasses carefully, exposing theburdock-covered food.

4. Remove the food from the pitwith the leaves still on, and placeit on whatever your eating sur-face may be.

A few tips. Do not stand or lie on the filled pit because it will compressthe grasses and greatly hinder the


transmission of heat and steam,resulting in a greatly underdonemeal. This technique requires a gooddeal of work, and the first few timesmay take a considerable portion ofthe day. I like to get the site preppeda day in advance (dig the pit and col-lect the wood and stones) so that theday I cook, all I need are grass and afire. I’ll usually start the fire aroundnoon or one o’clock, let it burn untiltwo-thirty or three-thirty, then loadthe pit and let the food cook untilfive-thirty or six-thirty, depending onhow long it takes to get the pitloaded and covered. Note: Smellingcooked grass for the first time maycause you to rethink the pit-cookmethod, but trust me, the taste ofthe food will outweigh any reserva-tions you may have.

Poached eggs for dinner. Did I mention that they were watersnake eggs? We then followed with the water snake herself. Verytasty. Mike and I felt the eggs tasted best just underdone so theysquirt across your mouth when you bite down. While I’dfocused on skinning the snake, Mike had handed me eggscooked for various lengths of time. I didn’t realize I was theguinea pig for flavor until after I had given my opinions. Hekept assuring me he’d already tried some. Most people wouldprobably be fairly disgusted by water snake, but, as Mike said,“Better than the last snake.” We both preferred roasting thissnake to boiling the last one.

The days seem profoundly long. We do so much; I accom-plish so much. This is one of the benefits of losing an agenda.


Without scheduled events, such as meals, work, meetings, etc.,the day is one long flowing free time. I try to remember to eatsomething and work on a few projects over the day, but that’s it.

It’s wonderful! If I want to continue doing something I’menjoying, I do it. If I decide to switch what I’m up to, I do so. Sosimple, yet immensely rewarding. Even a scheduled meal locksus into blocks of time, stifling our creativity.

I’ve lost touch with days of the week. They are now num-bers in my journal, which allows for greater freedom. I couldfigure out the day, I suppose, but what would be the point? Justa mental game to keep myself from sinking deeper into life withthe woods. For me, this life without schedules—without time,if you will—is allowing for a certain expansion.

Raise glasses for a toast, for I’ve had my first bowel move-ment. It was a rather green, large-diameter, bear-scat-lookingthing, blunt breaks and all. I didn’t linger long or stick my nosein close, but I did notice that the foul stench of modern humanfeces seemed absent.

Day 7

Last night we decided to journey to town for pizza. David and Iwere not hungry—at least no growling stomachs or hungerpangs. Mike is always ravenous. It just seemed a good idea to letgo of certain restraints we’d placed on ourselves, and a trip outto eat pizza became the physical act to represent that transition.It was late when we made the decision, so we ran for David’s car,which he kept nearby for his weekly outings. In we piled, andDavid whipped along the windy roads. We admired the break inthe storm clouds, which allowed for light to create varied hues ofgray in the corner of the sky. We finally arrived in a rather dingytown and ordered a large mushroom, eggplant, and onion pizza.

I called my family and my girlfriend Kayla to say I hadn’tmoldered away in all the storms. At age twenty-three, my sisterwas going in for a biopsy. Our lifestyles are not healthy these days.


The pizza was delicious. I was almost full after two slicesand absolutely bloated after three. Food portions in society aremassive and always available. And work for food has becomework for cash for food. Therefore, stockpiled cash quickly cre-ates food larders.

Over dinner, we discussed how few real skills were requiredto attain our pizza—how easy it was to get it. I argued that ittook different skills, skills that were easy for us because we hadgrown up with them. No longer did we need patience, physicalprowess, knowledge of ecosystems and wildlife, or knowledge ofplace and tools and how to use them. Today’s jobs required dif-ferent skills, not necessarily fewer or less important skills. Jobstranslate into money, which, in turn and in combination withknowledge of the right question to ask in the right place, resultsin a mushroom and eggplant pizza.

As we left town behind, it began to pour. I was happy toleave that reality behind and made up my mind that I didn’twant to make any additional trips to town this summer. Therewas also that niggling voice in the back of my head saying I hadsomehow failed. Apparently the pizza didn’t completely agreewith Mike, because he threw it up at the base of our hill. Thenwe ascended to our camp and attempted to fight rain with fire.My debris hut was warm and dry.

I awoke this morning to the call of a hermit thrush. The songresounded clear, almost rebelliously, in our camp dominated bywood thrushes and veeries. Its song seemed the central instru-ment, supported by a background of chickadees. My dreams hadbeen bizarre. I remembered hunting rabbits near the house ofMike’s friends to the north, among other random events.

Last night, in town, we all felt the pull, the ease of thatlifestyle. How easy it would be to nip off for pizza often, or tosleep in tents or houses. But we had turned our backs on mod-ern society and headed straight up our hill, deep into the woods.One trip to town had been enough to remind us what we hopedto do this summer—to live from food gathered by our hands, toexperience something other than our “normal” lives.



A balanced diet is composed offoods that supply enough nutrientsto the body for the production ofenergy and heat, as well as for thegrowth, healing, and maintenanceof cells. Opinions on the particularsof diet and health are many and var-ied. Given each person’s specificconstitution, it would be impossibleto develop a dietary plan that suitedeveryone. However, when consider-ing diet in a survival situation, itmust be understood that manyfoods we take for granted in oureveryday lives are not local, nor arethey always in season locally. Wildstrawberries, for example, can befound in abundance in theNortheast during the spring, yetthey are readily available in storesyear-round.

If you had to go into the wilder-ness at any given point during theyear, what foods could you harvestto sustain life? Now your optionsare suddenly much smaller. Withoutfruits or other vegetables beingshipped from across the countryyear-round, and without the aid ofrefrigeration, acquiring and storinga season’s harvest are not onlyimportant but somewhat more com-plicated. According to the USDA, abalanced diet should include:


• 2–4 servings per day of fruits forvitamins A and C

• 3–5 servings per day of vegeta-bles for fiber, vitamins A and C,and minerals

• 2–3 servings per day of meat,poultry, and fish protein for Bvitamins, iron, and zinc

• 2–3 servings per day of dairyproducts for protein, minerals,and vitamins

In the wild, fruits, vegetables, andmeat are available, yet milk prod-ucts are not an option; therefore,these proteins, minerals, and vita-mins must be acquired from othersources. Liver is a good source ofiron, zinc, and vitamin A. Vitamin D,according to the National Institutesof Health, can be acquired byexposing your skin to ultravioletrays, because they trigger vitamin Dsynthesis in the skin.

Carbohydrates are also importantin your diet. Sustained activity or alow intake of carbohydrates can cutendurance by half in as little as oneday.

Water is also vital. According tothe National Ski Patrol, a sedentaryperson loses 2,300 milliliters (ml)(over half a gallon) of water daily asfollows: 1,400 ml (about a third of a

Eat a Balanced Diet in the Woods

gallon) in urine, 800 ml (a little overthree cups) through respiration andevaporation from the skin, and 100ml (less than half a cup) throughdefecation. In hot weather, waterloss jumps to 3,300 ml (three quar-ters of a gallon), and with sustainedphysical effort, it can be up to 6,600ml (one and one-half gallons) perday. Even in cold, wet weather whenyou may not feel thirsty, you arelosing water and need to replenishit on a regular basis.

The best key to your hydration isthe color and smell of your urine. Itshould be clear and odorless. If it isdark and pungent, you need toincrease your water intake, notthrough guzzling one-half gallon ata time, but through regularly takingsmaller drinks.

Your body is your most importanttool and needs to be properly main-tained, like any other tool you wishto use for a long time. Whether youfollow the USDA’s food pyramid,your family’s eating habits, or theadvice of a nutritionist or dietician,eating the healthiest foods availablewill help keep your body in goodworking order.

In society, we are used to sittingdown to a “full” meal, whereas inthe wild, snacking on available tid-bits is par for the course. In sum-mer, when food is abundant,snacking on berries, roots, andleaves reduces the craving for ameal that will leave you feelingstuffed. Often, the “meal” will be


some seasoned meat in betweensnacks.

It is important, in times of abun-dance, to collect and preserve asmuch food as possible for threereasons. First, in the event you areinjured, ill, or unsuccessful hunting,having a supply of food can saveyour life. Second, the winter may beharsh and long, making the harvest-ing of any root crop impossible.Plants don’t have much to offerduring this time. Third, sometimesa thaw in the winter will rot meat ora leak will destroy some of yourpreserved dry foods. Having extrasupplies can see you through chal-lenging times.

TIPS FOR A SURVIVAL DIETHere are a few tips for a survival-mode diet. Because I am not a dieti-cian, I recommend seekingprofessional guidance in developingyour own wild diet. The informationbelow is drawn from personal expe-rience in which health was (appar-ently) maintained.

• Tea should be a regular thirstquencher. Pine needle and hem-lock (from the tree, not from poi-son hemlock or water hemlock)teas are great sources of vitaminC, an absolute must. Vitamin Cprevents scurvy. Mints, youngbirch leaves, and the inner bark ofblack birch, pine, and sassafras,are all quite tasty.

To prepare pine needle tea, har-vest the needles and dice them. Aone-inch diameter bundle makesabout two cups. Put the needlesinto hot water and simmer themuntil the water takes on a goldencolor.

To prepare leaf tea, harvest leavesfrom birch trees when they firstcome out in the spring. Dry themby placing them briefly in the sun orby hanging a whole branch upsidedown in a cool, dry place. Mint—either individual leaves or the wholeplant—can be harvested in thesame way. To make tea, boil waterand add leaves. Let them steep forabout five minutes before drinking.

To prepare a tasty bark tea, usethe inner bark from pine and blackbirch trees. Strip the bark from alive sapling or branch and addeither fresh or dried bark to boilingwater. Let it steep for five minutesand drink. Both inner barks, whendry, can be pounded into flour in anemergency.

Sassafras has been used formany years as a seasoning and inteas; it has long been credited withstaving off illness. The bark, roots,and leaves are full of flavor and canadd to that of any other tea. Theroot must be boiled in water toreally pull out the flavor. The youngleaves can be dried, ground intopowder, and added to soups.• Eating some form of carbohydrate

daily, whether it be burdock root,wild carrot, leek, Jerusalem arti-


choke, hog peanut, grass seed,cattail, and, of course, acorn flourhelps keep up your energy.

• Consuming meat three times aweek is a great source of protein.Meat also provides more energythan plant matter, especially in thecolder months when pemmicanbecomes more of a staple. We hadaccess to fish but also made apoint of eating red meat at leasttwice a week to augment our fishdiet.

• Fiber from greens is also worththe effort of harvest. Lambs quar-ters and lady’s thumb are greatadditions to any stew or salad,and they’ll help keep your bowelsmoving.

• Burdock can be found in disturbedsoil, field edges, and stream banksand beds. As a biennial, theenergy of the first year goes intothe root, which can be eaten raw,boiled, or fried.

• In the fall, any nuts in theNortheast—acorns, hickories, wal-nuts, butternuts, and beechnuts—are great sources of proteins andoils. Acorns need to be processedprior to use (see “Acorn Flour,”page 188).

• During the spring and summer,strawberries, raspberries, black-berries, gooseberries, blueberries,elderberries, serviceberries,grapes, and a host of other fruitsare available to provide plenty ofvitamins and minerals.

• Meat and animal fat are loaded

with nutrients and are crucial,especially in colder weather. Meatcan also be easily preserved (see“Preserving and Storing Food,”page 101). Geese, ducks, turkeys,grouse, pheasants, and doves areall fine additions to any diet.


Venison, woodchucks, squirrels,and rabbits are good, tastysources of red meat, and snappingturtles, fish, snakes, and theireggs add variety to the menu ifyou’re not too squeamish.

As David and I sat about in camp, deer appeared at the edge ofour site and began moving slowly toward us. We watched themplacidly feed in the drainage dropping off to the north, unawareof our presence. It is not often we are afforded a view of animalsas they move within the natural cycle. Tails flicked side to side.We most often see tails straight up in the air—the tail positionof deer as they flee.

David gestured that we should hunt them. We began stalk-ing the deer, but their feeding pattern began to pull them awayfrom us at a rate faster than we stalked. We decided to circledownwind and try again. David and I split up, each planning abisect with imagined patterns of feeding. I moved into my areaand was silent. Unfortunately, the deer had already movedthrough and David had followed in pursuit.

I sat awhile, enjoying an intimate view of a pair of scarlettanagers. With the sun beaming down through a clearing in thecanopy, the male’s red was indescribably brilliant. Do theyknow how beautiful they are?

I decided to explore south along the ridge. I had pine pitch inthe back of my mind, because I needed to make a canteen forlong walks. The pitch was a neces-sary ingredient in making naturalglue. I hiked to the top of the hilland sat on the edge of a rock face,soaking in the vista. The breezerode up the ridge and felt cool onmy face. I could see hills all the Scarlet tanager


way to the horizon and a dramatic cloudscape filling the sky. Ihoped to return to this spot to watch a storm roll in someday.

I watched a pair of red squirrels wrestle and play, cooing toeach other as they chased and rolled. They seemed to be play-ing “Follow the Leader,” where they constantly switched rolesas the leader.

An ovenbird came to inspect me. He ruffled his orangemohawk, fluffed his chest, and sang his harsh, rhythmic beats. Hewas so close, I began to count the spots on his chest: seventeen.

Onward I roamed, collecting little bits of pine pitch alongthe way, which I piled on a bark slab. I climbed a massive whitepine tree to harvest pitch from within holes drilled by pileatedwoodpeckers and from storm-damaged branches in the crown.High up, I poked and prodded, collecting every bit of pitchavailable: fresh, sticky ooze and older amber chunks that Ipocketed like precious gems. Hugging the tree, tongue out inconcentration, I worked and worked; the image of a black bearcollecting honey entered my mind. Same diligence and concen-tration as me. It made me smile.

As I progressed down the ridge, I came across an old log-ging trail. Suddenly, I knew there was a fawn bedded down justup the road; it was a picture in my mind. It wasn’t the kind ofknowing you get in your head, but a gut knowing—the know-ing that is always right. Downhill was the way back, but I feltdrawn to the hunt. Just the day before, I had made consciousmy intention to seek out a young deer to hunt, and now I knewwhere one lay.

Up the road I walked, and within several minutes I saw him,a fawn curled in the vibrant green jewelweed and grass. I couldn’tbelieve he was there; I still struggle with faith in intuition. He wasbeautiful, with a rusty coat and twitching ears, all accented bysunlight. Then it hit me. I had wanted to hunt this animal, andhere he was. Was I really going to do it? I didn’t know.

I stalked slowly up to him until a foot lay between him andmy feet. I looked down, although not directly at him, because hewas ready to bolt. What to do? I was here to live survival. But Ineeded more time.


I moved quietly past the fawn to a boulder roughly ten feetaway and sat down. I watched him, nervous about what I hadintended and now felt rather obligated to do. At least I hadallowed enough time for the deer to escape. I slowly stood,armed with my throwing stick, and approached the deer. Ipaused over him—this was what I was here to better under-stand. I raised my throwing stick over my head, pausing for abrief murmur of thanks.

Then I struck with all my might to the back of his head.Again and again. A red squirrel screamed, chickadees becamealarmed, and a ruffed grouse shrieked. It’s the only time I’veever heard a grouse sound an alarm. The deer rose up on shakylegs and released a short and mournful bleat. Then he col-lapsed, his hind legs twitched, and his confused eyes began toglaze. I held him close, hoping to comfort his death. I was any-thing but proud. I actually cried, while the nearby animalsseemed to surround me and voice alarm and protest.

I can count the times I’ve cried since I was ten on one hand.It was as if I cried for all the times I hadn’t—the deaths of mygrandmother and grandfather and more. It felt right to cry. Ifelt I should cry for every life I took. Luckily, there was work tobe done: I had to bleed, gut, and carry the animal back to camp.I began the long project that only begins once an animal hasbeen killed. Squirrels and birds continued to sound an alarmuntil I was finished with gutting and cleaning the deer and hadbegun to wander back toward camp.

I stopped by a nearby spring—to wash my red hands andstained face, regain composure, and drink. Up the hill I went,finally arriving at camp. Thank goodness the others were there.Mike and David stood and smiled, looking somewhat amazed.I, too, managed to return a smile.

Mike supervised as I skinned and butchered the animal. Hegrew up fishing and hunting, and his experience far outweighedmine. We then began the long process of preparing meat forjerky, which we could keep indefinitely. We worked until afterdark making a stick frame upon which to dry the meat and afire to coax moisture from flesh. Many people don’t realize jerky


is dried raw meat—uncooked. Jokes about the size of the deerhad started, which kept my spirits light; humor heals much. Iinsisted that all future retelling of the story substitute the word“buck” for “fawn.”“I stalked the bedded buck as the sun lay highin the west. . . .”


Carcass CareYour hunt was a success! You arestanding over a freshly killed mam-mal. (For the instructions on car-cass care, I will use a deer, althoughother mammals may be mentionedwhen pertinent.) Now what? Propercare of the carcass is just as impor-tant as the hunt. When an animaldies, the bacteria within the gut andintestines continue to live andthrive. The result is ever-expandinggas that will rupture the intestinesand foul the meat if the intestinesand guts are not removed immedi-ately. Additionally, the removal ofthe internal organs, intestines, andblood speed the cooling processand thus help delay the early stagesof decomposition. The essentialsteps are:

1. Checking to be sure the animal isdead

2. Bleeding the animal3. Field dressing or gutting the ani-

mal 4. Skinning the animal

5. Cutting or butchering the animal6. Utilizing the bones

1. CHECKING THE ANIMALApproach the animal carefully andlook for signs of life, such as move-ment from breathing or blinking.You can touch the eye with a stickto see if it blinks; if it does, youneed to finish off the animal.

2. BLEEDING THE ANIMALWith animals like deer, cut thethroat by driving a knife from theside of the neck just below thelower jaw, through to the other side.Then cut out the front of the neck.This is faster and easier than cut-ting through the hair, which can dulla knife very quickly. Hair from awild pig will dull your knife in only afew inches of cutting. Blood clotsfast when it is not being moved bythe heart. If you complete thisprocess quickly, the blood will gush


out readily. Placing the animal withits head downhill can aid in bleed-ing an animal. In the case of smalleranimals like squirrels, the meat canbe soaked in cold water and theblood allowed to leach out after thesteps below.

3. FIELD DRESSING OR GUTTING

Bucks during the rut have activescent glands on the inside of theirhind legs—tufts of hair with a smellyou can’t miss. These strong-smelling glands can be removed ifyou don’t like the smell or are afraidof the meat becoming contaminatedthrough long hanging in such prox-imity to the glands. Pull on the longhair to draw the hide away from theleg, then slice through the hidebehind and toss the glands away.After dealing with the scent glands,follow the instructions below:


• Position the deer on its back, andcut around the anus (and vagina ifthe deer is a female), to a depth ofthree inches.

• The urinary tract of male mam-mals travels from the bladder backthrough the pelvis next to thesmall intestine. It then loops backalong the belly toward the chest. Abuck’s penis is located on thebelly toward the rear. Make asmall cut at the upper base of thepenis toward the back while hold-ing the penis up and away fromthe body. This will allow you toseparate the penis from the car-cass all the way back to just belowthe anus. Once the penis has beenthus removed, proceed with thenext step.

• Feel down the sternum (breast-bone) until you come to the softspot at the end (xyphoid process).Pinch a bit of skin—about a halfan inch—and pull it up and awayfrom the carcass. Slice through

Separating the penis from the belly

pull

Primary cuts around the anus Starting cut at the sternum

pinch skin

the skin and thin layer of muscle,being careful to avoid cuttingthrough the stomach. If you seegreen matter, you have cut toodeeply and will have to deal withthe stench as well as wash out thecavity later.

• Once the cut goes all the waythrough the abdominal wall, slideyour index and middle fingers intothe abdominal cavity, palm up andfacing the rear of the animal.Holding a knife in your right hand,place the blade, cutting edge up,between the two fingers in theabdominal cavity, and slide bothblade and fingers to cut theabdominal wall down to the pelvis.


for cutting any remaining connec-tive tissue still holding the end ofthe intestines and urinary tract inplace. Note that the udders ofdoes can be easily removed priorto this step in the same manner asthe scent glands are removed onbucks.

• Above the stomach is thediaphragm, a divider made ofmuscle tissue that separates theabdominal cavity from the thoracic(chest) cavity. Cut the diaphragmfree from the chest wall on bothsides, back to the spine.

• Reach up into the chest cavitytoward the neck and feel the wind-pipe, a hard-ribbed tube. Cut thisas high up as possible. Grippingthe windpipe, pull it back towardyou to expose the organs (heartand lungs and, in the intestinalcavity, the liver and kidneys). Theconnections that have not yetbeen severed along the spine areweak and can usually be torn bypulling forcefully on the windpipe.

• Harvest the organs you wish toeat, and, if possible, set them incold water to help the blood leachout. (The heart, liver, and kidneysare great cubed and put in a stew.)

• It is now possible to pull the gutsout of the abdominal cavity. Graspthe terminal end of the smallintestines and urinary tract frominside the abdominal cavity. Pullthem through the pelvis and outthe incision along with the rest ofthe guts and organs.

To further protect against cuttingthe stomach and intestines, youcan lift the abdominal wall withthe two fingers guiding the knife. Iwill often continue the cut to theanus, cutting through the musclebetween the legs until I hit bone.This allows the legs to spread toeither side and gives easier access

Opening the abdominal cavity

• Tilt the carcass so that any bloodwithin the cavity can drain outthrough the pelvis.

4. SKINNINGSome animals part with their hidesmore easily than others. Deer, forexample, can be skinned completelyby hand once the primary cuts havebeen made. Wild hogs and wood-chucks, on the other hand, often needa blade to help separate the hidefrom the carcass. These primary cutsshould be just through the hide andnot into the flesh. Skinning, whendone well, is a bloodless process.

Primary Cuts

• Cut all the way around each leg atthe second joint above the foot.


• Make a cut from the anus alongthe belly to the lower jaw (usuallydone during field dressing).

• On the inside of all four limbs,make cuts to connect the ring cutson the legs to the median cut onthe belly and chest.

• Make one ring cut around theneck and you are finished.

With some animals, deer especially,the hide can be pulled away fromthe carcass with one hand and yourfree hand can knead down betweenthe two, the hide and the carcass.This is preferable to using a knife,because it avoids scoring or other-wise damaging the hide. Bits ofconnective tissue, such as little ten-dons connecting the hide to themuscle, allow the animal to shakeor shiver portions of its skin to riditself of flies. These connectors canbe broken singly by hand; however,when sliding your hand between thecarcass and the hide, you may graba number of them at once. Pullinghard on these thin, bunched con-nectors can result in a “paper cut.”

If you do use a knife or sharpstone as a skinning aid, pull thehide away from the carcass andgently cut the stretched tissue withthe cutting edge angled toward thecarcass and not the hide. This way,if you overcut, the damage is doneto the flesh and not to the hide.

Primary cuts

5. BUTCHERINGAccording to the USDA, food kept atzero degrees Fahrenheit can remainsafe indefinitely and at forty degreesfor two to three days. I have let car-casses hang for three weeks at tem-peratures in the thirties with no badodor or ill effects. Animals taken inthe warm summer months are a dif-ferent matter and should bebutchered as soon as possible,because bacteria multiply rapidly inthe “danger zone,” 40 to 140degrees Fahrenheit.

Hanging the carcass of an animalserves two purposes. First, it makesthe skinning and butchering processmuch easier. The height can beadjusted and you have access to allparts of the carcass. Second, lettingthe animal hang lets enzymes withinthe meat begin to break down themuscle and connective tissue, mak-ing it tender and softening thegamey flavor. Hanging is not a


necessity but a preference amongmost hunters. I recommend hanginga carcass for about one week,weather permitting.

A dry crust forms on the exposedmeat as moisture evaporates. Thiscrust must be trimmed off beforeyou consume the meat. The longerthe meat hangs, the thicker thecrust and the greater the loss ofmeat. Leaving the hide on protectsthe meat and keeps in the moisturebut makes skinning more difficult.

A simple way to get a heavy car-cass off the ground is to make ahole through each hind leg at thepoint that corresponds to thehuman heel. On most animals itlooks more like a backward-bendingknee than a heel. Make the cut inthe thin part of the leg between theAchilles tendon, coming from themuscle above and at the thighbone.You can use a stick to keep the ani-mal’s legs spread apart and to then

Hanging a deer for butchering

lash them together by using theholes you cut. This will allow you tohang the animal from a branch. Theeasiest method for hanging heavygame is to cut a strong, ten-footsapling that has a “Y” in the upperportion. Trim off all other branchesand lay the sapling over a strongbranch of another tree, about fivefeet off the ground. With the “Y”end of the sapling on the groundnear the carcass, lash the spreaderstick to the fork in the “Y” and, see-saw-like, pull the raised end down-ward and tie it to a stake in theground.

If you have help, you can lift thedeer and fasten a piece of cordageto the spreader stick, tying the otherend to a sturdy branch.

In temperatures above fortydegrees Fahrenheit, all meat not tobe consumed immediately must bepreserved either through freezing ordrying (see “Preserving and StoringFood,” page 101).

How you cut the meat for storagedepends on the way it will bestored.

In warm weather, meat must bedried to be preserved. To preservemeat in freezing temperatures, thecarcass can be cut into meal-sizedchunks. I remove some of the bestcuts first, like the back strap oneither side of the spine.

These long muscles are very ten-der and easy to remove. Start bymaking cuts down either side of thecenter ridge of the spine. With your


fingers in the cut, slide your handup and down the incision whilepushing them into the carcass. Asecond skin or membrane coveringthe back strap should now be evi-dent and can easily be pulled andcut away. Work your fingers into theflesh along the initial incision untilyou reach bone, then pull the mus-cle away from the carcass. Carefullytear or cut any flesh still connectedto the rib cage.

The legs can be divided easily bycutting at the joints or separatingmuscle groups. Portions of thecarcass with little bits of meat still

Deer carcass showing one of the two backstraps removed (left).

attached can be cooked and eatenwithin a few days (temperature per-mitting) or pulled from the bone,rolled into a ball, and frozen forlater use.

6. UTILIZE BONESBones for tools (if you don’t wantthe marrow) can be broken openwith rocks to allow access to bugsand placed on an anthill for quickcleaning. But their chance of being


taken by scavengers is very high. I’lloften place bones in trees or hangthem with cordage, and within amonth they are pretty clean. If I amin a rush to use the bones, I breakand boil them to quickly remove theoils and marrow (the broth is highlynutritious). If time is not an issue,leave them out up to a year, as thisallows the oils to break down andgives you a solid, white piece ofbone (as opposed to an oily translu-cent one).

We feasted on venison and covered the entire rack withmeat. Even hunter Mike was impressed with the amount ofmeat the little guy yielded. Myself, I was absolutely sapped; tak-ing the life of another can be a draining experience.

Day 8

We hung around camp most of the morning, helping the meatbecome jerky with a constant bed of coals. I worked on fish andsnare line—you can never have too much. I reflected upon thedeer, on myself, and on what others would think of my actions.People may wonder why I needed to kill, and they may wonderwhy I chose a fawn.

I do have my reasons. While walking around this hill, ourhome, and surrounding woodlands, I have absorbed informa-tion on who lives where and how various species are impactingthe woods. The more I learn, the more I am able to interpretwhat I see, and the more I understand the dynamic interrela-tionships of living creatures.


The woods here tell of large deer populations. Shrubs andtrees have stopped regenerating on our hill. Hemlock, oak,striped maple, and white pine are but a few of the decimatedsaplings in the understory. Life here is out of balance. I’mreminded of Aldo Leopold’s famous essay, “Thinking Like aMountain,” in which he recounts a story from his youth whenhe shoots and then watches a wolf die. He later realized thatremoving wolves would allow the ungulates to go unchecked,and that they would strip the mountain. Here the deer havedone this; they have stripped this hill and surrounding hills.

This is why I hunted a deer. It was my contribution to anunhealthy ecosystem. I hunted a small deer because I was afraidof wasting food. It wasn’t without thought or deliberation thatI hunted deer; rather, it was with awareness of the conse-quences. I was standing in for wolf.

Hunting might seem to be the last thing you would do toconnect with the natural systems. Yet, my harvesting the fawnshowed me how disoriented I’ve become. If a coyote had comeacross that fawn, it wouldn’t have sat down, contemplated theidea, then taken the fawn’s life. Nor would there have been aprayer circle or drum ritual in the taking. No, a coyote wouldhave reacted swiftly and efficiently. A coyote is part of the natu-ral cycle and does not question its role. At the time of the killing,I still believed I was not a full participant in local ecology; Ithought I was an outsider. Now I’m certain that no person cantruly disconnect from the natural world. In some great feat ofmental gymnastics, I’d somehow convinced myself that I could.Why? How? Every person is as much an animal as is the coyote.

Within society, it is easy to ignore natural cycles, because wehave constructed buffers with which to protect ourselves. Howmany people are offended by hunting, yet visit stores andrestaurants and order beef, lamb, pork, chicken, turkey, duck,fish, or clams. Those animals were killed, just as are broccoli,beans, and lettuce. Whenever we eat, we are ingesting theremains of animals and plants, yet we no longer acknowledgethese deaths; we do not feel we have participated in the killing.These skills of personal deception and avoidance are fruits of


the modern world, equally efficient in restaurants and board-rooms, markets, and governmental affairs.

In the afternoon, David and I went off in search of morepine pitch. We moved south along the ridge, through woodsand fields. We collected pitch along the way, although we madeseveral more important discoveries.

Along an outcrop on the southern end of our hill stood amassive white pine. Pileated woodpecker holes riddled thetrunk, revealing the hidden rotten core. The lowest hole wasquite long, about eighteen inches or so, and had healed over toform a narrow slit; the encroaching bark would only allow a fewfingers to slip in. David spotted the activity first. The thinentrance was swarming with the buzz and flight of honeybees.We stood mesmerized.

Finding honeybees has given ancient cultures joy as long ashistory has been recorded. All sorts of extraction methods havebeen tried, some more painful than others. We craved sweethoney, and we decided we were willing to be stung a few timesin order to savor something sweet. I did pause to remind myselfthat it was a thin line between bravery and stupidity. Buthoney. . . . We decided we’d come back another day.

Later we found a flock of wild geese. Their young weremature but still unable to fly. We thought a group hunt wouldbe successful. Last, we scouted out a few smaller ponds for cat-tails, because we had developed a new shelter idea. By this timewe had walked many miles and I was tired. We nibbled on sweetdaylily flowers as we approached our hill.

In the evening, while I was out for a stroll, a doeapproached me to within about thirty feet. She stared at me andI imagined myself as a tree. We remained frozen for a shortwhile, then the deer began to lightly stomp her front righthoof—a steady, rhythmic beat. Deer are renowned for stomp-ing in an attempt to solicit a response from that which they donot recognize, but this was a new approach for me. Her steadyrhythm seemed an attempt at hypnotism. And it was working!On and on we stood our ground, eyes locked, her steady beat


like ropes holding me tighter and tighter. Birdsong was ourbackground. Time did not exist.

Suddenly, fireworks exploded in the far distance (I think itwas the Fourth of July). The doe paused and looked toward thenoise. Then she looked back and began the beat again. Too late!I had broken free and my mind was racing again. I suddenlybecame aware of the countless mosquitoes taking full advantageof my unprotected face. I tried to move slowly, to swat themaway, but my movements revealed my true identity. The doesnorted and bounded north. I remained several minutes andlistened to her continue to snort from the other side of the knollbefore I moved away.

Day 9

It’s the second sunny day in a row. I’m hoping for further sunand dry weather so the stream drops, improving spearfishing.Time will tell. On the other hand, rain keeps greens growingand springs flowing.

It was a slow day overall. Mike visited the beehive and webegan to strategize. Mike had opened an abandoned hive sev-eral years earlier, and David had read a book on wild bees; bothfelt they were experts on the subject. I was the only one able tomake suggestions with the ease of ignorance. Mike felt that if weentered the hive at night, the bees would not come out. Ithought this was hysterical, but he may be right. We’d have towait and see.

By afternoon, rain clouds had hazed the sun, and byevening, the darkest clouds had reached the hill upon which wecamped. We sat in a field at the foot of the hill and rescheduledthe beehive raid. It began to rain as night settled in. Mike and Iclimbed to camp, while insomniac David sought out a dry spotto work on baskets and cordage.

I forgot to mention that I’ve added a door to my debris hut.I used to rise at first light to the incessant buzz of attacking


mosquitoes; they are a reliablewilderness alarm clock. I haven’tdiscussed them much. The mos-quitoes are absolutely horren-dous. There are so many varietiesand styles: the standard, which isbrown to gray, the miniaturestandard, the black with bluespots on its legs, the zebrastriped, and the type that sits at aforty-five-degree angle.

There is not a spot under leaf or needle where you are safe.I seek solace in open places or by huddling near smoky fires.

Anyway, the door stops all this distraction. I’m warmer andwith less company. The downside is, I tend to miss the first fewhours of light. I may decide to open the door again.

Day 10

I awoke this morning at first light to a single mosquito—thedoor had settled and allowed a crack to form. I plugged the hole,killed the intruder, and was at peace again. Two screech owlswere holding a conversation near camp and were just audibleabove the competition between a tanager and a hermit thrush. Ilistened for some time before I decided to try to find them.

Out I crawled into the drizzle. I paused to wait for an owlcall. Setting a bearing, I walked to the east, then to the south,but the owls were silent. Now that I was up and about, I con-tinued on a stroll.

I ended up in a field, sitting on a rock outcrop. A few rashmosquitoes had followed me out of the trees, but I disposed ofthem quickly. Society was not yet awake. I heard no cars or farmequipment. Lush, rolling hills were all I could see, along with afew freshly mowed hay fields in the distance.

The air was cool and a breeze sent a chill up my body. It wasthe sort of chill that makes you feel alive. The uniform haze of


The 45° mosquito

clouds undulated as they rushed overhead. I love cool air. Itreminds me of oceans.

A doe approached the field. She stopped in the tall golden-rods at the edge, looked about, and skipped out to a patch oflush green to feed. A few moments passed before a younger deerapproached at the same spot, looked about, and also skippedinto the field to feed. The ritual was repeated two more times,for a total of two does and two yearlings. They frolicked about,taking breaks to feed on the greenery. Feeding was done in five-to ten-second increments before they raised their heads tocheck for danger. Two deer nuzzled a bit, rubbing cheekstogether. They all came quite close to me as they circled the fieldfeeding before they moved out of sight over a knoll. When itbegan to rain, I decided to move on as well.

Recently, I’ve been tracking the remains of hickory nuts towhite-footed mice nests. My first discovery was along a worntrail to the west that was used by many animals, includinghumans and foxes. I was hiking alone, and there, in the middleof the path, were the remains of four hickory nuts. Each nut hadbeen extracted in the same way. Round or elliptical holes werechewed on both sides of each nut. Edges of holes created bymice are smoother than those made by most species, althoughsometimes they are a bit rougher than those of southern flyingsquirrels. The grooves left by the tiny teeth were visible. Themidribs of the nuts were left untouched, except for a few nicksfrom digging incisors. No “carrying notches” or cut slots, cre-ated by chipmunks and southern flying squirrels to carry hick-ories to caches or feeding areas, were present. Over time, I havelearned that all of these characteristics are those of hickory nutsopened by white-footed mice.

But why in the middle of the trail? Where did they comefrom? Mice do not typically feed in the open; they prefer to beunder cover, hidden from predators. I looked at them a longtime and placed them next to the closest tree on a bed of moss,while I pondered and moved on.

I found the second mouse midden off the trail, just insidethe wood line along a field. Again—hickory nuts opened by a


perfect halves: nut on right partially cut

white-footed mouse. Again—out in the open. This time, how-ever, I also noticed a hole in the base of the tree at ground level.I was beginning to formulate a hypothesis. I peered in to thehole to find a variety of debris and definitive mouse scat. Themice were throwing out the hickories as a sort of “spring clean-ing.” As I visualized the first tree, I remembered a hole approx-imately four inches off the ground above a large root, whichwould be a perfect launching pad for hickory nuts. Since thisexperience, I have continued to find these holes associated withhickory nut debris. Amazing.


red squirrel

jagged holes from both sides

southern flying squirrelentered from shoulder;

smooth, round hole

chipmunkjagged round hole at one end

gray squirrelpieces

micemultiple round holes

note angle

carrying notchon bottom

carrying notchon bottom

Marks on nutshells provide clues as to what ate them

David had recently encountered a mouse in his debris hut. Hehad crawled in to clean up a bit, and the mouse plunged betweenhis legs to escape unscathed. David, on the other hand, was emo-tionally distraught about sharing his quarters with a mouse. Heimmediately began carving a “figure-4” deadfall trap. Mikedecided to join the crusade and help David by contributing a“Paiute” deadfall trap, a faster variation of the traditional “figure4” (see page 14), substituting cordage for the wooden crossbar.

Mike’s trap was the first to spring successfully, claiming thelife of a white-footed mouse. David’s went off the followingnight, taking the life of what appeared to be a house mouse. Theclosest house was some distance away, yet this animal had beensuccessfully living high on a ridge in full woods. I didn’t expectto see this species up here. David was eventually persuaded toreclaim his sleeping quarters.

Day 11

The three of us went on a hike into new areas in search of pitch,which we needed for tools and canteens. Following Mike isalways an adventure, because he is not allergic to poison ivy.Unfortunately, I am. One particular woodland we passedthrough was carpeted in poison ivy. It gave me wonderful bal-ance and stalking practice.

Poison ivy appears to do particularly well in disturbedareas. The carpeted woods through which we walked had beenheavily and poorly logged time and time again; it was an abusedarea. I often find poison ivy in places such as this, where heavyhuman impact has scarred the landscape. I wonder if theappearance of this plant is a statement by, or evolutionarydefense mechanism of, the land. No words, clear message.

We collected loads of pitch as well as bark, which weformed into sun visors and containers. We ate berries. Wealways eat berries. As we separated on personal adventures, wescheduled a group hunt for geese in the evening.



Conifer pitch is a tremendous assetwhen you are living out in thewoods, and I collect it whenever theopportunity arises. It can be usedfor all manner of things from orna-ments to glue. In the applicationscovered here, it is used with a hard-ening agent, either white wood ashor ground charcoal. A high densityof these agents hardens the pitch toa brittle state, and a lower densitykeeps the glue softer and moreflexible.

COLLECTING PITCHWhen I’m on a pitch-collecting mis-sion, my tools of choice are a con-tainer and a stick sharpened to apoint at one end and a flat screw-driver-like point at the other. As Iwalk through the conifers, I look forold branch breaks and, with mystick, prod the areas that are heal-ing over. It is important to note thatpitch is often dirty, hard, andclumpy. It can later be softened andpurified (described below). Lookingup in trees for woodpecker holes,broken branches, and other woundsis a good way to locate a pitchcache. Creating a wound to providesap is another option, though oftenunnecessary, as so much is avail-


able from old wounds.Often pitch has impurities in it,

such as tiny pieces of bark. Someof this should be removed whileyou are cooking it, although a lowdensity of fine impurities does notseem to have a negative effect onthe pitch when it is used as glue.Too high a concentration of fineimpurities will result in weak andmore brittle glue.

The best way to work with pitchis to heat it slowly in a stone or pot-tery bowl until it has gently boiled.Have your projects—such as can-teens, knives, spears, or arrows—ready to go. Add white ash to thepitch in small measured amounts (5percent by volume), keeping inmind that even with heavy amountsof ash (up to 50 percent), the pitchwill still be very workable when hot.Yet, when heat is removed, pitchwill harden very quickly.

Depending on your intention, youmay need the pitch to maintainsome flexibility. Case in point is thecanteen. In my first attempt, I usedabout a 50:50 pitch-ash mix, whichbecame so brittle that gentlysqueezing my canteen caused thepitch to flake and chip off. Spearsand arrows need to have stone orbone heads firmly affixed (see

Working with Pitch

“Hunting Tools,” page 157), yet brit-tle pitch will often shatter when thespear or arrow impacts anythinghard, such as the ground or a tree.

PREPARING PITCH FOR USE• Heat a stone bowl (see “Stone

Pecking,” page 126) slowly toavoid cracking.

• Add the pitch. Remember, pitch isflammable, so keep some dirt or alid handy to smother flare-ups.

• When the pitch is simmering, addsome ash in small quantities. Mixit well.

• Test the hardness by smearingsome hot pitch onto a piece ofcloth, leather, or flexible greentwig. Let the pitch cool, then bendthe cloth or twig and see if thepitch flakes off at the slightestbend. If it does, you likely havetoo much ash. If you can bend thecloth or twig over on itself, thereis not enough ash.

Keep in mind that if you are work-ing with a smooth gluing surface,you may need to score it prior toapplying the pitch.

USES FOR PITCH• Fixing (hafting) stone or bone

spearheads and arrowheads totheir shafts (see “Hunting Tools,”page 157).

• Waterproofing seams on canteensor canoes (see “Canteens,” page 88).


• Making engraved bone ornaments.These look great when charcoal orcolored stone dust is mixed withpitch and smeared into theengraving; this can be a brittlemix.

• Making temporary tattoos bydrawing a design on your skinwith small amounts of sun-warmed pine pitch and dusting itwith charcoal or colored stonedust.

• Securing knots or lashings thatwill not need to be untied.

• Making buttons with pitch is sim-ply a matter of tying a knot in apiece of cordage and dipping it ina pitch mix with a lot of ash. Buildup to the desired shape by addingdaubs of pitch with a stick. Whilestill warm, the pitch can be pattedinto the desired shape with a flatstick.

• Coating knife handles, wrapped incordage, with pitch containing ahigh ash content.

As with many things, your imagina-tion is your only limitation.

Note that pitched products thatwill have a lot of contact with handsor clothing need to be well coatedwith ash. If they are not, when theywarm up from the sun, your hands,or the fire, they will become stickyand might weaken. As a generalrule, keep pitch products away fromthe fire or other heat sources.

I recommend experimenting withplenty of caution. Hot pitch is like

natural napalm. If it touches you, itwill stick and it will burn! Createyour own recipe. Start with a 20:1


pitch-to-ash ratio and see if it is toosoft or too hard. Play with it.

As the sun sank and approached the hill to our west, Mike andI approached the steep climb to camp. We heard a raucous massof birds to our left. Robins and wood thrushes had congregatedto make a fuss about someone. The birds tell us so much abouteverything, if we only stop to listen and learn a bit of their lan-guage. Jon Young, a birder and naturalist, has helped me realize that with practice and experience we caninterpret alarm calls. What a beautiful lesson was unfolding.Robins and wood thrushes do not sit at ground level liketowhees, nor in the high canopy with the tanagers, which con-tinued to sing without worry. We knew our predator was inmid-canopy, and after listening a bit, we knew this predator wasnot moving. It had to be an owl.

Armed with our deductions, we slowly approached thealarming mass of birds. I saw the robins and thrushes first, flit-ting about branches roughly fifteen feet off the ground, circlingan area of dense, young hemlocks. Closer and closer I stalked,scrutinizing the hemlock stand. The predator saw me first andswiveled its head to study me. The screech owl sat comfortablyagainst the trunk of a small tree. I crept closer still. Finally dis-turbed, the owl flew silently over my head and into anotherhemlock stand twenty-five feet away.

Mike and I had a second look before climbing our ridge.Remarkable. We had learned something about alarms thisevening. Imagine how much information is floating about onair, and all we have to do is learn to listen.

Mike and I returned to camp but David was not there. Wewaited and waited, watching the sun drop and slip behind thewestern hill—still no David. Well after dark, he appeared at theedge of the firelight, gosling in hand. His competitiveness haddriven him out alone. He had wanted to make a solo kill.


David told us he had also been picked up by the local policefor trespassing. He had hunted in daylight on someone else’sproperty. Not only had he jeopardized himself, but all of us aswell. Luckily, he had been without throwing sticks or the goose,and the cop let him off with a warning. Nonetheless, I wasangry. I said things that I thought at the time needed to be said,but in a tone I regret.

As we pondered all the potential consequences of beingcaught doing what we as a group do each day, we werereminded how illegal these skills are and how the general pub-lic might view our adventures.

I’m not the psycho survival sort, or a bloodthirsty hunter.I’m not one who wishes to abuse our natural resources. Quitethe contrary, survival skills immerse us in the wonder of natureand help us consciously interact with natural cycles.

Yet modern laws prohibit us from caring for ourselves. Weare made dependent on society for food, shelter, and warmth,which of course means playing by the rules. It’s interesting tolook back. Our country prides itself on its frontiersman start—the hardships of living in a harsh land, of ingenuity and per-sonal freedoms. How times have changed.

I find this to be a strange contradiction. Obviously, ifeveryone alive today walked off trails and hunted and gatheredyear-round, our remaining wild places would be decimatedquickly; we’d create greater impact than the deer. Yet, these skillsconnect us with our environments and ourselves so directly. I’dbe willing to bet that if everyone were conscious enough tohunt with throwing sticks, we would not be teetering on theedge of environmental catastrophe.

Day 12

Goose for brunch. I finished my fishing line and bone hook andwas itching to give them a go. Mike and I wandered off to tryour luck. As Mike and I were crossing a road, he recognized afriend whiz by on a motorcycle. The friend circled back to say


hello. After the teasing about our basket of blackberries sub-sided, he informed us we weren’t “missing anything.” I thoughthe meant that the social scene in the area was slow, but he wenton to explain that there were no “major wars, governmentscandals, etc.”


To catch a fish with modern tackleis not very difficult and even less soif you care nothing about the partic-ular species. A line, a hook, and aworm will almost always guaranteea bite from a sunfish, a bony yetdelicious fish. However, in the wild,fine-pointed metal hooks are notavailable and other options must beexplored.

It is worth noting that some bod-ies of water have more fish thanothers and thus give you a greaterchance of success with any hook. Ifyou want to improve your ability asa fisherman, regardless of your cur-rent level of skill, then it is impor-tant to ask yourself:

• Why would a fish bite my hook? • Where is food more abundant? • Where does nutrient-rich water

flow into this lake or that pond? • When are fish feeding? • Is fishing better in the rain or in

the sun; the early morning or theevening?

• What do fish really like to eat? • Do bass like mice better than

frogs?

Asking questions teaches you to bemore aware as you seek out theanswers. You might notice some-thing others may not. Perhaps fishreally like a particular type of cater-pillar that you saw fall into the creekand be devoured by a trout.

The basic principle behind hook-ing a fish is lodging somethingattached to a string in the fish’smouth or stomach. Fish as a gen-eral rule do not chew their food;

Bone Hooks

therefore, if the object is appealingenough, they will simply swallow it.Consequently, a simple pointedpiece of bone with a string tied tothe middle sometimes does thetrick.


MAKING THE HOOKThe toe bones of a deer are theright shape for making a conven-tional hook. A slice out of the centerof the bone works well. The edgepieces of the same bone need morework but are stronger.


3. Do not make an eye for the fish-ing line. Instead, thin the shaftbelow the top end, leaving awider portion or button at the topto keep the line from slipping off.

4. Once the line is tied, dab pinepitch over the knot and sprinkle itwith ash.

5. Slide a squirrel femur with bothends removed down the line tothe hook. This protects the linefrom sharp teeth and barbs in thefish’s mouth.

Follow these steps:

1. Draw two parallel score linesaround the bone, then scoredeeply along the lines with aknife or other sharp object.

2. Split the bone along the scorelines and carefully carve orabrade away unneeded bone.

Another good hook is a wishbonefrom the breast of a bird, with oneend broken and abraded to a finepoint at about midshaft.

Deer toe bone (side view)

Deer toe bone with scoring (front view)

Shading indicates the area of the toebone that is removed when carving the hook

Hook and squirrelfemur leader

Wishbone hook

BAITAttach a fifteen-foot length ofstrong cordage, dogbane, or yuccato the hook. Live bait, while oftenvery effective, can be hard to findand tough for some people to use.Some excellent live baits are frogshooked through the upper hind leg,small fish hooked through themouth, crayfish hooked through thetail, and mice hooked through thehide. Other baits include anythingthat will draw fish, such as bread,dead worms found in puddles aftera rain, and pieces of meat, feathers,or reflective objects such as piecesof shell.

CASTINGThese directions assume a right-handed individual is casting; reversethe procedure if you’re a lefty.

1. Coil the cordage loosely on yourleft hand, leaving about two feetof slack on the end with thehook.

2. With your right hand, spin thebaited hook around in a clock-wise circle so that your targetarea is at nine o’clock, theground is at six o’clock, and thearea behind you is at threeo’clock.

3. Release on the upswing. The lineshould uncoil off your left hand(hold onto the end) and land yourhook about fifteen feet out.


FISHINGThere are many different ways tofish, and which one works bestdepends on the sort of fish you aretargeting. Do you jerk the bait onthe surface or let it sit on the bot-tom? Generally, I let live bait stayon or near the surface with littlemovement from me. Crayfish andminnows tend to do better deeperdown, and dead bait seems to workwell on top as well as down below.Experiment and see what works foryou in your area. Have fun, andremember, fishing is an art.

SETTING YOUR BAIT AT A SPECIFIC DEPTH To set your bait at a specific depth,say for example three feet, tie arock one foot from the hook and awooden bobber (big enough to holdthe weight of the rock) three feetabove the stone. If your hook tan-gles with the rest of the gear, youcan tie a stick to the line between

the stone and the hook, with theline wrapped around the stick.

Another option for placing yourbait a given distance off the bottom,say two feet, is to tie on a weightand then a small bobber two feetfrom the weight; your hook line isthen attached to the bobber. Thebobber will float up as far as is pos-sible, keeping your baited hook justabout where you want it.

LANDING THE FISHOnce a fish has hit your hook, keepconstant pressure on your line by


backing up until the fish is well onshore. A stick or stone can be usedto finish off the fish, or you canbreak its neck by bending the headback until the nose touches thespine.

DRESSING THE FISHWith a sharp rock or knife, cut fromthe rectum along the belly to justbelow the gills. Remove the gutsand rinse out the cavity. Bonappetite! (See recipes at the end of“Trout Hunting,” page 77.)

It seemed an odd statement for our conversation in themiddle of a country road, without traffic, surrounded by lushgreen hills. We hadn’t asked about the current affairs of thenation, and quite honestly, I didn’t care. I appreciated the breakfrom constant bad news. Even when I am immersed in modernsociety, I filter out most of the current events. I find it toodepressing to intake negative media coverage from around theglobe all day, every day. And I’ll not allow myself to be bom-barded into submission by a government that so consciouslychooses what it wants me to hear and think about the world.

Yet I remain active in government processes. For years, Idreamed of disappearing into the woods without a trace. But Icould no longer watch decisions about wild places and wildcreatures being made, knowing that I had not contributed myopinion. So, I vote and write to politicians, hoping to removecattle from public lands, stop tree harvesting our remainingroadless areas, be more aggressive about the removal of loggingroads in ecosystem restoration, promote more respectful for-eign policy, and a host of other issues.


I don’t remember who told me that for each letter the gov-ernment receives, it is considered the view of five thousand peo-ple. This is due to the fact that so few people write to theirrepresentatives. I really don’t know whether the source wassound, but it’s great incentive. In this time and age, warriorsmust wield the pen more often than the sword. Perhaps its timeto step down off my soapbox.

So, why am I here in the woods? What started years ago asa fantasy of the ultimate rebellion—leaving society completelybehind—has instead become a search for self. Tracking andsurvival skills provide the mirror and opportunity for me to seemyself and the effects of my behaviors. If we were able to prac-tice only that which we needed to survive this summer andallow everything else to fall away, I think we might glimpse orcomprehend something of real humanness.

We continued upstream, poking and exploring along the way.Walking in streams is such an exhilarating experience. There areso few activities that can quickly transform adults into childrenagain. I found myself prodding in and around rocks and logs,laughing and smiling at darting trout and crayfish. The water cur-rent and stony bottom challenged our balance, and the diversityof color and texture within the stream pushed our imaginations.

One pool in particular held several large trout. Against thefar bank, tucked under a jungle of wild grapes, lay a massive log.The trout retreated to hide under this log when we approached.It was here that Mike demonstrated hand fishing. Within fifteenminutes, he had pulled a twelve-inch trout out onto the bank,using its gills as a handle. Talk about impressive!

I had to give it a go. What a fantastic location. You could lookover the log into the water and see the fish, as well as the tips ofyour fingers. My first few attempts did nothing but scare the fish.I moved too fast, my mind raced, and my hands were too eager.

I stepped back and took a deep breath. Hand fishing was yetanother lesson in slowing down. I slid my hands under the logand watched from above. I touched the trout and began to



Wading upstream in a long, shallowpool, I continue to probe under thebanks with my hands. The water islike ice, and it doesn’t help that I’min the shadow of the streamsidetrees, sheltered from the warmtouch of the sun. At one point, Iforce my goose-bump-covered bodybeneath the surface to reach fartherback under the bank. Aha! Theunmistakable smooth side of a fishbrushes my fingertips and moveseven farther back beneath the bank.I am no longer cold—the fish hasmy attention—and I consciouslycalm the excitement within me; it isas if the water embraces me.

Lying in a shallow pool, my nose,one eye, and a quarter of my mouthare all that are exposed to air. Myfingers, swaying like grass in thecurrent, slowly move upstream,searching. There! A trout, and a bigone, too! I’ve found the alpha troutof this pool, hiding about three feetback under the bank. I can’t see it,but I can taste it. I dance my fingersgently along its lower side, envi-sioning how the fish is sitting in itshiding place.

I’m going to need two hands! Myright hand locates the gills, thumbgently caressing one side and mid-dle finger stroking the other, while


my left hand cups underneath,about six inches from the trout’stail. I am relaxed and do not rush.Then, I jam my thumb and middlefinger together through the gills,and at the same time, I clamp thetail. I’ve got the fish! Slowly, Iemerge from beneath the bank andmarvel at this magnificent troutmeasuring eighteen inches inlength. If it were not for my hunger,I would surely return this beautifulcreature to its waters.

As it was, he cooked up quitenicely. I am still grateful.

People are infatuated with food,and even though it is number fiveon the list of priorities in a survivalsituation, it still claims a lot of headtime (at least initially). Over oursummer, the meals that stood outabove all others were trout, forwhich we hand fished andspearfished in nearby streams.

FINDING THE TROUTBefore jumping into technique, youmust find the trout. The features ofstreams and rivers are widelydiverse, but allow me to presentseveral features that have affordedme great success. I do very wellfishing in shallow streams and

Trout Hunting

rivers that have pools of varyingsize, depth, and flow. Even ankle-deep streams with intermittentpools can hold massive trout. I rec-ommend moving upstream for tworeasons. First, any sediment youstir up will not cloud your fishingarea, and second, trout tend to faceinto the current—they are hardenough to stalk without movingdirectly in their field of vision.

In Moving WaterMoving water includes shallow tochest-deep rapids and waterfalls. As water moves over the riverbed,areas of both swift and still waterare created. Even within whitewaterrapids there are pockets of stillwater. It is in these pockets, usuallyunderneath or on the downstreamside of rocks or other objects, thattrout seem to wait for food to swirlin on the current. Many times I havegiven a quick jab with my hand intoan unlikely spot, only to have atrout go streaking off to who knowswhere. Move your hands with thesame characteristics of the water inwhich they are immersed. Justbecause the surface may be roilingwhitewater does not mean that theconditions a foot below are thesame. Check under and aroundrocks that might hide a trout. Evenat the base of waterfalls, big orsmall, you will often find calmwater; check these areas for trout.Feel with your hands along theedges of rapids, because it is not


always apparent where or how farthe river has cut into the bank.

In Still WaterStill water includes any still-waterpools from ankle depth or deeper.In long, still, shallow pools, makesure to check under large rocks,under banks, and in sedge clumps,using your hands to “look” forholes leading into cavities that mayhouse trout.

The foundations of bridges areoften scoured out, creating perfecttrout traps. Floods also create idealtrout-hunting grounds—some bet-ter for the hunter, and some betterfor the trout. The root systems ofdowned trees, trees along banks,and trees transported by floods cre-ate a myriad of hiding spots, someof which may be inaccessible to thehunter. Certain situations requireexploring hideouts and catchingtrout while you are completely sub-merged, which isn’t as tough as itsounds once you get some practice.In my experience, the biggest troutin a given pool use two hidingspots. They are also the mostrelaxed of all the fish in the pool,because they are at the top of thepecking order. Thus, the larger thetrout, often the easier they are tocatch. They are used to smaller fishwriggling up against them in tightquarters. I found a hole in a shaleriverbank, which led to a small cav-ern about two feet long and onefoot wide. There were so many trout

in there they left no room for thewater! So, spook the trout and seethe available sizes and where theyare hiding.

Be persistent. I remember a poolwith a five-foot, submerged rockface. After several frustrating visitsto the pool, where the fish just dis-appeared, I finally found a smallhole that led into a cavity. It wasjammed with fish and made foreasy fishing! Explore every possibil-ity and refuse to become trappedinto thinking you know where troutwill and will not be. I am continuallysurprised.

It is important to learn about thevarious hazards in your huntingarea, such as pollution, snakes, andsnapping turtles (I’ve grabbed manynorthern snappers by the headunder water with no ill effects, butthe alligators and alligator snappersof the South are another storyentirely). In pools four feet anddeeper, keep a wary eye out forbeavers. They do not seem to mindunderwater visitors as long as youdo not corner them or appearthreatening.

TECHNIQUEOver the years, I have found onlyliterary tidbits on hand fishing.Some writers tell about slowly mes-merizing the fish by stroking itsbelly. Others suggest placing yourhands below a trout and quicklyflipping it onto shore. One source


even suggests using your hands tomake a false cave entrance to lurethe trout. Once it’s in your hands,they say to simply grab the trout.Maybe these techniques really work,although I’ve yet to be able to catcha trout with them. What follows aresome of the trout-hunting tech-niques Mark and I have used andtaught with great success instreams and shallow rivers.

Spearfishing or Hand Fishing?The flow and characteristics of thewater are what dictate whether youshould hunt with a spear or withyour hands. In pools that have littleor no cover for fish, a spear ispreferable, whereas in moving waterand in pools that have cover (over-hanging banks, big rocks, clumpsof grass, root systems), hand fish-ing may work the best. Trying todislodge your spear from a tangleof roots while trout are nibblingyour toes is a humbling experiencenot easily forgotten.

I really enjoy both hand fishingand spearfishing in pools, wherethe varying challenges are consis-tently rewarding. Pools without veg-etation or hiding spots tend tohouse skittish trout. Without vege-tation, fish do not become accus-tomed to being touched, andwithout hiding spots, they will swimlaps around you. Use a spear! It’salmost impossible to hunt withhands in these situations. Or, youcan create hiding spots, then use

your hands. Stack rocks to formniches or add logs and brush wherethe fish will feel safe. Then, checkthese spots in about a week.

Spearfishing

Making the SpearSpears are simple to make and easyto use.

The following design is for pin-ning, not puncturing, the fish.

1. Find a somewhat straight saplingabout eight to twelve feet longand no thicker than one and one-half inch at the base.

2. Sharpen the thick end to a pointafter cutting off all the limbs.


Leaving the bark on is a goodidea and aids in camouflaging thespear.

3. About nine inches down the shaftfrom the point, tightly wrap someartificial sinew, wet rawhide, orother string, and tie it off).

4. With a sturdy knife, create a splitfrom the tip to the tied-off string.The string will keep the split fromrunning too far down the shaft;therefore, it must always be leftin place.

5. Now, make a second split per-pendicular to the first one. Thisgives you four sections at the tipof your spear; sharpen each one.

6. Jam a twig into each of the twosplits, splaying the tips apart.These twigs can be tied in placeor held in by friction. I use thefriction method, because it allowsfor a quick change of twig; i.e., ifthe twigs are too big for the fish Iam hunting, I can put smallerones in, thus reducing the splayof the prongs. Another option isto put a larger twig in one slotand a smaller one in the other,providing you with two sizeoptions.

Fishing with the SpearWhen you spot a fish along the bot-tom, bring the spear directly over it(vertical is nice but not imperative)so that two of the four points strad-dle the “neck” just behind the gills.Approach from the back to avoidspooking the trout. The other two

Making a pinning spear

points of the spear lie farther back.The splay of the points should besuch that when the spear is jabbeddownward, the body of the fishforces the points farther apart. Atthis point, you can reach down andrecover the trout, or, with a sharp,quick twist of the spear, you canbreak the trout’s spine.

Using the spear is rather self-explanatory, although there aresome definite no-nos. The tip of thespear must be practically touchingthe fish if you hope to be success-ful, so don’t strike prematurely fromtoo far away. The most commonmistake occurs is the “windup.”When you are in position and readyfor the final jab, do not pull thespear away from the fish. The fishis not behind you. The only move-ment your spear should make istoward the fish. Mark and I foundout that if we leaned forward andstarted to tip, we could effectivelyuse our weight to add force andspeed to the thrust. Because thespear tip is already in the water,refraction is not an issue—you canclearly see the spear tip in relationto the fish.

If you are shooting fish with abow and arrow, however, you willneed to aim low to account forrefraction. How low depends uponthe lateral distance from you to thefish; the greater the distance thelower the aiming point.

Sharp spears for puncturing fishwork well in situations that allow for


side shots for a few reasons: (1) theside of a fish presents a larger tar-get; (2) it is also far softer than thedorsal portion of the fish; and (3) amissed strike is less likely to breakor dull stone, bone, or wood tips.

The spear is adaptable, so useyour intelligence and apply it asneeded. For example, Mark and Icame across a hole in a streambank a few feet above the water. Icrawled in and found a glasslikepool. It was connected to the riverbelow the water line, diffusing andgiving a bluish cast to the light.Suspended in the water hung twobeautiful trout. We tried unsuccess-fully for a while to catch one. I usedmy hands from inside the cave, andMark used a spear from the outside.We switched back and forth, gettinghungrier and colder with eachattempt, both wanting to be the oneto catch supper and neither wantingto be the one to call it quits. Theproblem in the cave was that thetrout were too skittish and the areatoo confined. Outside the cave, weonly got occasional glimpses of thetrout before they moved too farback in the cave for us to see.

In the end, Mark stood in theriver outside the cave with the speartip just inside the cave by way ofthe underwater entry, while I lay inthe cave giving him instructions onwhat direction and how far to movethe spear. When he had the spearpositioned near the trout, I gavehim the word. The water clouded

with his lunge, and I couldn’t see athing. Slowly and carefully, I movedmy hand through the water, foundthe spear shaft, and moved down itto the tip. Gravel!?! Mark hadjabbed so hard he’d sunk that trouta couple of inches into the gravel. I managed to dig it up and grab it,and together we shared dinner. The lesson? Be flexible.

Hand FishingProbably 85 percent of the time,you will not be able to see the troutyou are trying to catch. This meansthat your fingers must become youreyes under the water. When youreach under a riverbank “looking”for trout, keep your fingers limp likeseaweed. Let them flow as if withthe current, exploring every possi-ble hiding spot. Most trout are usedto having bits of grass and otherdebris touch them as it floats past.They are not, however, used tobeing goosed.

I once reached under a bank for atrout only to find a twelve-poundsnapping turtle; it was quite tasty.I’ve found snakes that way, too—kind of chewy and tasteless,although Mark and I both foundtheir eggs to be delicious whenpoached. Once you’ve felt a trout,you’ll never mistake anything elsefor one. Be careful and count allyour fingers after each trip.

Let’s stick with trout. Once youcome in contact with a fish, STAYRELAXED! Slowly and gently feel


along its body to locate its head anddetermine its size. Don’t take any-thing too small, although too smalldepends directly on how hungryyou are. Small fry are not bad whentoasted, and you can eat them,heads and all.

If the fish is fourteen inches orbigger, use two hands when fishing.Cup both hands under the fish,keeping one hand near the little finsjust in front of the tail. Use thethumb and middle finger of yourother hand to locate the gills. Donot apply pressure yet. But whenyou do, you must be fast andsevere. Drive your thumb and mid-dle finger into each other throughthe gills while gripping the tail withyour other hand. If the fish is in acavity, you can pin the trout againstthe wall or roof without touchingthe gills. Do this if you do not haveaccess to the gills or mouth. Onceyou have grabbed the fish in thismanner, it will struggle once andthen relax. At this point, you canalso relax, but only slightly. Onceagain, the fish will struggle, afterwhich you can pull it out with mini-mal fuss. Make sure you have agood hold on the trout before youremove it from the water.

If you pursue this skill, you willinevitably find yourself in varyingsituations. For example, someplaces where trout hide will notallow you access to both gills. Thisbeing the case, you may have toadapt using one gill and the mouth

instead. Be careful, though, becauselarge trout have teeth that canpuncture a callused hand. The painis really not that bad—just a pinprick—but if you cannot handlethat, you don’t deserve the trout.

If You Do Not Want to Harm the FishSome of these maneuvers can bedone without harming the fish. If youwant to return the fish to the waterand have not squeezed it too hard orput your fingers in its gills, then holdit in your hands and gently set itback in the stream. Hold it at its nor-mal attitude (facing into the current,belly to the bottom and back to thesky) until it regains its equilibriumand swims off on its own. Pleasekeep in mind that touching the gillsdamages them, and putting the fishback in the water will only result in asnake or raccoon eating trout fordinner. The trout will not surviveeven if it swims off apparently fine.Here is another way to catch fishwithout causing any immediateharm.

Place your hand under the fish asusual, except this time, have thefish lie diagonally across your palmso that its head comes betweenyour middle and index fingers andthe tail just touches your wrist. Bysqueezing your fingers together andsimultaneously making a fist, youcan effectively immobilize the fish.Experiment!


PRIMITIVE COOKINGTrout hunting is tremendous funand very rewarding. It’s a great wayto see familiar land from a new per-spective and provides you with afantastic meal using simple tools.Remember, though, that you aretaking a life. It is important to givethanks and maintain proper respect.Check with your local Departmentof Fish and Game regarding thelegality of this activity in your area,and avoid overfishing areas—we allwant to continue fishing trout wellinto the future.

Proper grip for small trout

stroke its underbelly. Its beautiful body was adorned with col-orful freckles and striped fins. A caddis fly larva struggled alongthe stream bottom below the trout, carrying its wooden house.I was petting and stroking a fish! It even nuzzled closer as I tick-led its belly. Its body would occasionally go limp in my hands,its fins loose in the current.

I attempted to catch several trout a few times, but to noavail, as they were remarkably slippery. So, I kept stroking andtouching their soft bodies. I stopped when I could no longercontrol the shivers and the “pinch” between my thumb andpointer finger moved in slow motion. Add to this the fact that Iwas turning blue. I sat on the bank, and Mike demonstrated onthe dead fish he’d caught where you need to grab to bring thefish to shore. I had been aiming too low. Next time.

I warmed up over the next hour as we hiked back to camp.The cold was a small price to pay for such an experience—touching wild creatures in a clear, clean stream and hoveringabove rocks that provided a beautiful mosaic of colors in thebackground. The stream gurgled, yellow throats sang, and theelectric blue of bluebirds streaked overhead.

Day 13

Mike and I were alone in camp, because David had left yester-day to visit home. As we walked for water in the morning, Iscouted for potential spears for fishing. I was eager to spearfish.We separated after filling our containers. I had planned to pickup clay for pottery but was distracted by the possibility of find-ing decent tracks. I had discovered a farm road filled with holes,and it provided a wonderful, muddy medium for tracks. Here,tracks were often absolutely perfect, and absolutely irresistible.

I explored the mud holes slowly, taking note of which ani-mals had been moving in the area. I stared at a set of wood-chuck tracks. I lay on my elbows, exploring the ridges of each



palm pad with my fingers while engaging my imagination inthe recreation of the animal.

After staring at the details of the tracks and absorbing whatI could only sense, I was able to pick out the more difficulttracks, which lay beyond the perfect mud. The woodchuck waswalking in one of two common woodchuck gaits. I then knewwhere to look for the next track, and my imagination was ableto add the flowing movements of woodchucks I had watched infields so many times before.

I also spent time staring at cottontail rabbit tracks. I don’tlook at tracks while I’m standing up unless I’m quickly follow-ing a trail. I prefer to be right up close. Icould see all the lines made by the furthat covers its feet, the asymmetry of thetrack, and the claws that registered soprominently. Even the rudimentary fifthtoe made an appearance. Again, I felt thetrack and used my imagination to visu-alize the whole animal. When tracking, Iengage as many senses as possible.

Today, I realized a great benefit oftracking. Tracking immerses you innature. You must get down close to lookat the intricate details.

As I stared at the cottontail tracks, Inoticed that a possum had also walkedby. The mud had been drier and harderand the tracks more subtle. Numerousbird tracks appeared next, then those ofrodents and insects. I was breaking


Woodchuck tracks

frontrear

through different levels of awareness. The longer I looked, themore I noticed.

The road was also dotted with house-cat tracks. They, too,are beautiful, with asymmetry and perfect toe registration. Catsflex their paws and roll their feet, molding to the landscape.House-cat tracks may look like bobcat tracks in one step, andlike domestic kitten tracks in the next. One moment they arelarge, the next moment tiny.

Finding cat tracks in nature always strikes an odd chordinside me. Feral and domestic cats are responsible for the deathsof millions of rodents and birds annually. They are an enor-mous impact on our native fauna, our country, and world. Yet,people complain when a fisher, bobcat, coyote, or great hornedowl kills a cat. I say, “Go fisher! Go owl! Go coyote!” Cats breed

like rabbits. If folks don’t wanttheir cats to participate in naturalcycles, then they should keepthem indoors.

Harvesting a serviceberry, Icreated a spear and went fishingin the afternoon.

Downstream proved quitedifficult, as two streams joined tobecome one larger and deeperstream. Chest-deep water levelsmade it challenging to spear fish;I was often swept up on the cur-rent. It also began to rain, and theripples created by the raindrops,although beautiful, made rocksand trout look similar.

I met Mike on the way back tocamp. He held aloft a woodchuck,dispatched by a throwing stick. Iheld up my empty hands andwaved. We collected water, wildgarlic, and garlic mustard for our


Eight-foot pinning spear

feast. I found woodchuck to be similar in flavor to the othermeats we have eaten. Possibly varying the cooking style wouldalter the flavors. Mike, on the other hand, felt that the flavor ofwoodchuck was inferior to all the foods we’ve collected thus far.

Each night as I lay in my debris hut, I reflect on the day andacknowledge all the lives that were sacrificed so that I mightlive. I also contemplate the beauty I witnessed. Maintaining aritual of appreciation was an important reason why I decided totake this adventure this summer. Not in the sense of asking foranything or reciting complicated verses. Rather, I simplyacknowledge and speak my appreciation for what I experienceand what I harvest. I don’t drink from the spring without firstgiving thanks, and the three of us give thanks for our food eachevening. I pause at beauty in nature. These expressions are nei-ther complicated nor long. They feel natural.

Some might call this prayer, yet out here, surrounded inwoods and wild creatures, prayer and religion seem compli-cated and potentially unnecessary affairs. Rituals, religiousguilt, and structure fall away in the simplicity of things.Contemplating the ways of wild coyotes and of wild people hashelped me challenge certain cultural foundations.

Day 14

We awoke to drizzle. I walked about and sought a short reprievein mosquito-free fields. I sat very close to a song sparrow’s nest,which sent the pair into quite a chatter. They paid less attentionto me as time passed and I gazed across the foggy valley. In open spaces I feel more expansive and free. Breezes carry mythoughts to distant hills, far away from me.

Morning progressed, and the three of us met under a shel-ter up valley. David had a fire waiting when I arrived. Weworked on skills and chatted; it was a peaceful time. Mike and Ihad decided previously that this day would be devoted to mak-ing new bark canteens.



I used to walk all over the land nearmy childhood home, drinking fromstreams whenever I was thirsty. Iwas never made ill by these waters.However, with the prevalence ofpollution today, water must often beboiled in order to purify it for drink-ing. This means that any huntingtrip or hike is limited by your abilityto go without, acquire, or carrydrinking water with you. To carrypurified water from camp, pine barkcanteens can be made.


11. Strip an eight-by-sixteen-inchpiece of smooth bark from a livewhite pine with the grain run-ning the long way (see “CookingContainers,” page 111). Be sureto utilize all bark from the limbor tree you fell, or take a piecethat doesn’t reach all the wayaround the tree.

12. Trim the bark as indicated in thenext illustration.

13. Gently fold, without creasing, as indicated.

Canteens

Bark canteen

acorn corners

wood lid

cordage bind

pitch glue

rawhide binding(pitch moves on hot days)

4. Carefully curl one side within the other.


allows the bark to dry out a bitand “remember” the shapedesired. Be sure to leave it whereit will get copious amounts ofsmoke to discourage bark-dwelling parasites, which maydrill holes in your unfinished can-teen. Many are often in the barkalready but can be killed with acareful application of heat andsmoke.

7. Once the canteen has dried a dayor two, remove the lashing andscore, scratch, or otherwiseroughen the areas that overlap,as well as those areas adjacent tothe seams when closed.

5. Make a cork or stopper and placeit in the opening.

6. Lash with some remaining barkand let it sit a day or two. This

The score lines will help the pinepitch and ash mixture adhere (see“Working with Pitch,” page 68).8. Apply pitch.9. Attach a bit of cordage just as

you applied the lashings previ-ously. This time, leave enough fora strap.

Trimmed bark

Canteen mouth (overlap detail)

Canteen lashed for drying

Scored seam ready for pitch

10. Acorn caps or hickory nut halvesare a nice touch and add furtherprotection to the corners.

To ensure the durability of your can-teen, do not let the canteen get toowarm, as the pitch may become too


soft, allowing the seams to split. Nohot beverages! Holes from insectscan be plugged with a bit of pitchwith very little ash mixed in. Peri-odically allow the canteen to dryout, put some coarse sand inside,and gently shake to scour it out.

The rain was daunting, but off we went in search of adecent white pine from which we could harvest bark. Rains nolonger stopped us from going about our business.

We decided to visit the spring we use for water and discov-ered that an obstacle had cropped up in our path—a camp hadbeen set up that morning. Tents were spread about and tarpshung from trees. It was like a small circus in the woods. Mikehad heard there was to be a two-week kids’ program in the areaat some time. We took the long way around, pausing to peek atthe invaders and the setup. Life would be different now. We’dhave to be far more aware.

Finished canteen with carry strap


We finally selected a tree down valley for our bark harvest-ing. For me, trees and animals are the hardest to kill. Trees areremarkable. They stand tall, rooted, and completely grounded.Yet, they are flexible when necessary. They silently witness somuch, offer countless resources, and provide beautiful diversityin form. Silent they stand, but I feel their singing.

We managed a complicated felling, including one snag,which Mike climbed to dislodge. We thanked our white pine bymaking quality containers, honoring the tree with functionalskills. We returned to the shelter soaked to the bone, althoughwe made impromptu burdock-leaf hats to divert the relentlessrains from our heads. One great leaf formed a large visor andanother kept our necks dry.

From our shelter, we were gifted with interesting views ofshort-tailed shrews. A pair continuously worked the areaaround us, moving with amazing speed and energy. A networkof tunnels just under the debris surrounded a nearby brushpile. However, the shrews spent as much time on top of thedebris as they did underneath it.

There were constant, long chase scenes. When the chasercaught the leader, they would tumble, grappling and chirping,then begin chasing one another all over again. The speed ofthese animals took our breath away. They would zip from onespot to another, a nonstop metabolic energy burn. They ran upwoodpiles, fell off woodpiles, zipped over roots and underleaves. I was exhausted just watching them.

We pulled back a section of leaf litter where a shrew had beentunneling, and found the remains of earthworms, the abandonedportions writhing, unable to escape. We also watched one shrewchase a frog that narrowly escaped and bounded away. The shrewheld close pursuit for about four bounds.

What a wonderful experience. I had worked on projects forawhile, then switched to shrew TV, which had delivered non-stop action.


Day 15

Today is Mike’s birthday. He awoke pining for Belgian waffles,topped with fruit and maple syrup. Instead, we spent the morn-ing harvesting a basswood that was growing across the stream.The lower leader had died in the water, and the remainingupper leader was destined to the same fate. I stripped thebranches for cordage materials. It was like skinning an animal,because the entire bark, leaves and all, would come offtogether—a hollow replica of the branches.

We weighted down the logs in the stream to ret, whichmeans to rot. As the cambium begins to break down, the fiberswith which we make cordage become more pliable and easier toseparate from the inner wood. The wood itself is great for carv-ing, coal burning, and fire making. We’ll see.

In the afternoon, we visited a place far upstream, milesfrom camp. A sacred place to be sure, where water, shale, andthe passage of time have created an intricate sculpture andwaterfall. The layers of shale were smoothed by water flow, andthe remaining lines looked like waves within rock. Moss, ferns,and lichens held to steep faces, and water dropped ten feet intoa small pool, surrounded by shale walls.

Above the pool, I stood in a moment of apprehension. Iknew the water would be frigid, and I didn’t really know howdeep the pool was. I waited for the sun to reappear from behindthe clouds, then I jumped, commitment made, mind unsettled.I watched shale whiz by, and my body tensed in apprehensionof cold and impact. Wooh! It was cold! I swam against the cur-rent just below the waterfall. The walls made me feel like I wasin a well, with the water pounding down next to me. Whatforce, what noise, what energy! Bubbles and froth massaged mybody and clear waters swiftly flowed away. I felt so alive! I yelled,I smiled, I laughed out loud. This was living!

Wow. Those moments of indescribable living—feeling sen-sations pulse and flow through you, so full of joy you can’t helpbut smile widely. We can’t let these moments slip away. We mustseek them out!


Day 16

We awoke to rain. My canteens had become leaky, so I went todrink from the spring. As I came close to the new camp on thehill, I approached from below. An outhouse was being finalized,adjacent to our pristine water source. Typical, they hadn’tseemed to have noticed the spring. Avoiding detection, I madethe final approach on hands and knees, crawling slowly. I kept awatchful eye on a woman as she worked.

I came up to the water, gave thanks, and lowered my head.I laid flat, drinking slowly. I took frequent breaks to make sureI hadn’t been discovered. Then it struck me—I had becomeanimal, flat out on the ground, drinking nervously. My headconstantly jerked up to check in with my surroundings. Havingtheir head down is a vulnerable position for animals. Here,amidst modern humans, I was prey. Would they understand myintentions in the woods? I didn’t know, and today I wasn’t will-ing to find out.

The rains have been intense and are beginning to impactthe surrounding landscape in dramatic ways. Autumn nuts andfruits are falling off trees, undeveloped and immature. I exam-ined a handful of hickory nuts, still in their green sheaths. I cutthem open. The outer shells had not hardened at all, and thenut meats were absent.

For the first ten days of our experience, I was unable to live inthe moment. I was here, in beautiful woods, practicing ancientskills and fulfilling a summer I had long anticipated. Yet, I oftenthought about what I was missing. I was eager to practiceAmerican Sign Language and to revisit the tracking projects Iwas working on. I also wanted to start new projects. I wasalready planning the skills I would focus on at home and thetrips I would like to take soon. Future, future, future.

With time, distractions have faded. I’m finally here soakingup woods, feeling breezes across my face, and listening to thewind in the canopy. I’m no longer tainted by planning, goal set-ting, and mental gibberish.


My pace has slowed down; I’m no longer in a rush. I am see-ing smaller things. Previously, I had often lost the experience athand because I was busy planning the next one. Now I know thatvacations shorter than ten days are useless. Less than ten days, mymind does not rest. Instead, it moves like the shrew that often eatsthree times its body weight in a day to feed a lightning metabo-lism. After ten days, both my body and mind were relaxed, allow-ing for glimpses of a different me. Perhaps the true me?

In the afternoon, the three of us roamed to the west toexplore a wetland and gather cattails for a new group shelter.The sun emerged from behind the clouds and the wind pickedup. The purple seed heads of grasses blew in the fields, creatingwaves of lavender dotted with the yellow flowers of cinquefoiland “butter-and-eggs.” It was a stunning sight.

As we entered a hidden meadow, we noticed a woodchuckfeeding away from cover out in the green. Mike had his throw-ing stick; David and I picked up stones. The wind was in ourfavor. Mike and I moved together in front. David formed thetriangle a few steps behind.

The woodchuck fed on clover, pausing only occasionally tolook about. Oblivious to our presence, she moved toward us ona feeding run. Closer and closer we approached each other. Thewoodchuck was massive and her guard hairs glistened in thesun. Her coat was thick and healthy.

The gap between us shrank, until the woodchuck was justtwo feet from me and a bit more from Mike. It stopped gorgingon greens and looked up. Mike lunged with his stick, and thewoodchuck ran. The throwing stick and stones followed. I hitthe woodchuck square on the back, and she flipped over,switching from flight to fight in an instant. Mike tried to trap itwith his foot, while I looked for his throwing stick. He had theanimal pinned, or . . . did the woodchuck have him? Her teethtore into the sole and side of his shoe! Lucky for him he waswearing thick leather booties.

We used the stick to pin down the woodchuck. A quick stabto the throat and the struggle was over. Our first group kill. Ilooked away for the stab, not yet comfortable with all the killing


necessary to survive. I guess I can still convince myself I’msomehow disconnected, that I’m not really an animal. We gut-ted and covered the woodchuck for our return.


Stalking and HuntingHunting as a survival tool is critical.It is through hunting that you pro-vide yourself with many of the toolsyou need to remain in the wild andthe sustenance to survive in theshort term. For instance:

• Hides give you leather for clothing,rawhide for lashings, snowshoes,hard protective cases, cordage,hide glue, bags, and more.

• Meat and fat provide immediateand long-term sustenance,whether they are fresh, jerked, ormade into pemmican.

• Sinew is great for sewing, lashing,making bow strings, backing bows(a technique used to add strengthto a bow), making snare lines, andmore.

• Bones can be made into fishinghooks, knives, awls, needles, but-tons, and decorative ornaments.Teeth and jawbones can be usedfor abrading or cutting (wood orgrasses).

• Guts can be used for pouches,water bags, sausage casing, andlashing.

Clearly the value of good huntingskills can make the differencebetween life and death.

MOVEMENT AND BALANCEThe way in which modern peoplemove is more like a controlled fall.It is as if people have a stringattached to their chests or fore-heads and are being pulled along.This causes them to walk with theirbody at a slant, with their head outin front, completely out of balance.This incorrect way of walking alsocauses people to look at theground; consequently, they see littleof their surroundings. For a hunter,balance is paramount. A hunter mayneed to stop on a moment’s noticeand remain motionless, sometimeswith only one foot on the ground.

Stumbling through the woods inthis fashion is not likely to yield asuccessful hunt. It is crucial to slowdown and raise your head. Start outby standing squarely on your feet.With your eyes gazing out levelly,stretch both hands out directly in


front of you, touching each other ateye level. Now, while wiggling yourfingers, move your hands simulta-neously apart, maintaining bothyour forward gaze and visual con-tact with both hands. Bring yourhands as far back as possible untilyou can just catch the movement ofyour wiggling fingers. You shouldfeel a shift in your vision as you dothis exercise. The effect is similar tolooking out through a picture win-dow while standing at the back of aroom, rather than looking throughthe same window with your nose tothe glass.

This peripheral, full-view, orsplatter vision is used so seldomthat your impulse will be to quicklyshift back to a specific point inview. Keep practicing until you canshift into full-view vision withoutany effort. Athletes in basketball,soccer, and other big team sportsuse this way of seeing to visuallycover a larger portion of the courtor field while paying specific atten-tion to a particular player.

You will notice that full-view orperipheral vision gives you far moresensitivity to movement and light.Pinpoint vision (looking from pointto point to make up a whole pic-ture) is time consuming and givesyou weak details pertaining to theoverall view. Taking one glance infull-view allows you to clearly seethe whole picture. For example,leaves moved out of place by apassing deer lay differently on the


ground than those that have notbeen disturbed. Full-view visionmakes the trail stand out, whereaspinpoint vision does not.

Once you are able to easily shiftinto full-view vision, you are readyto move. While balancing on oneleg, lift the other foot and slowlymove it forward such a distancethat you are able to place it flatly onthe ground while applying no pres-sure or weight to it. Remember tobend your knees as you move. Donot lock them during periods ofwaiting, because this can result in asudden lurch when you begin stalk-ing again.

If you are in full-view vision, yourfeet can to some extent becomeyour eyes on the ground. Beforeputting weight on your forwardfoot, gently touch the ground withthe inside ball of that foot (the“ball” is between the toes and thearch). Slowly roll the foot to theoutside so that the entire ball of thefoot is in contact with the ground.Then let your heel and toes settle tothe ground as well. Be aware ofsharp objects or sticks that maybreak under your weight

If your foot is well placed, slowlyshift your weight from the back footforward to the newly placed foot,and repeat the process. When youare hunting animals, taking one stepper minute (or moving even moreslowly) will enable you to at leastmove, even when the animals arelooking at you. With a lot of slow

practice, you can learn to move at abrisk walk and eventually at a simi-lar run.

HUNTINGThe principles of hunting wild gameare universal regardless of theweapon used or the game hunted.First, you must locate your quarry,and second, you must get within aneffective range of the animal for theweapon you are using. Locatingyour prey without modern-day tech-nological tools requires that youlearn about the animals’ habits. Youcan accomplish this goal by track-ing animals, reading available litera-ture on them, and actuallyobserving them when the opportu-nity arises. The more you learn, theeasier it will be to predict where andwhen a given animal will be. If timeis short, a regularly used trail oftenoffers good opportunities for find-ing animals. You may, however,have to wait a day or more for themto appear. Randomly walkingthrough the woods, hoping to stum-ble upon game, can be time con-suming and requires greatproficiency in stalking.

The effective range of a weaponis the distance at which the huntercan deliver a strike with deadly pre-cision and force on a regular basis.One person’s effective range with aspear may be fifteen feet, whereassomeone else’s range may extendto twenty feet. Most primitive


weapons require the hunter to bewithin close proximity of the animal.

Another variable is the forcerequired to kill an animal. For exam-ple, rabbits typically are more frag-ile than woodchucks, allowing ahunter to throw a rabbit stick fromfarther away when hunting rabbitsthan if one were hunting wood-chucks. To prepare for a hunt, youmust become proficient with yourweapon of choice and familiar withyour hunting areas. While walkingyour hunting grounds ask yourselfthese questions:

• From what direction does the windnormally come? This will help pre-dict how your scent will be car-ried.

• What do the prey animals in thearea eat? Knowing what they eatwill help you locate them.

• What is the best direction toapproach prey from in a givenarea? This can help you decide ifstalking the prey once you see it isbetter than sitting and waiting forthe prey to come to you.

• Will my body be silhouettedagainst the sky? If it will, then per-haps a belly crawl will get youclose enough, or you can look forother approaches or perhapsinvestigate camouflaging yourselfinto the area prior to the regulararrival of your quarry.

• What time of day will the sun aidme by being at my back? If thesun is low and at your back, it is

also in the eyes of your preywhenever it looks your way.

• What type of substrate will I bestalking on or through? Somesubstrates may be so thick andnoisy that you are better off find-ing a way around them.

These are standard questions, andyou will undoubtedly add to themas you practice stalking prey.

Though it is not always possible,try to select a specific individual tohunt. Watch it and learn itsstrengths and weaknesses. When isit alert? If it’s a burrow-dwellinganimal such as a woodchuck, doesit wander farther from its hole thanothers in the area? How can youuse its weaknesses to help youmake it your meal? Deer, for exam-ple, fall easily into many patterns,and often will not stop to assesspotential dangers before entering afamiliar meadow to graze. You needto take the time to observe the localpopulation.

Once you have chosen yourquarry and you know when you willhunt it, you must prepare. What youdo spiritually to make peace withthe animal that you will hunt andthen kill is up to you. Here is a goodway to physically prepare for thehunt. Three to four days prior to thehunt, eat bland food to help reducebody odor. It also helps to wash inthe stream using soapwort (seeessay on Hygiene, page 208) orother natural locally present scent,


or nonscented soap. Using a sweatlodge is another good way to helpremove human scent.

Leave your clothes out in thewoods away from camp in a rain-storm, or wash them in the creekand hang them to dry. In a pinch,you can stand in the smoke of awood fire to cover your scent.Because it is natural, smoke doesnot seem to startle animals unless itis accompanied by heat and flames.Carve and handle your rabbit stickor weapon of choice (see “HuntingTools,” page 157) with clean hands,and either stain it with smoke orrub it lightly with charcoal to hideany bright white carving marks.

It is time to start. There are manyanimals whose meat can make anice addition to a wild food diet,and there are many hunting toolswith which to take them. This exam-ple will describe a hunt using a rab-bit stick, and the quarry will be awoodchuck.

Approach your hunting area care-fully. Pay attention to the wind, thesun, and anything else that mightgive away your location. When youspot the woodchuck, watch it for amoment before you begin stalkingit. Do not look directly at the ani-mal. Watch it only in full-viewvision, because an animal’s sensitiv-ity is acute; the hunt could be overbefore it starts. As you stalk, notewhether the animal is wary or if it isfeeding contentedly. Take note ofthe direction it is moving, and then

try to predict where it may be intwenty minutes. If you make anoise, you may have to remainmotionless for a time until the ani-mal settles and resumes its normalactivity.

As you approach, bring your rab-bit stick to the ready so that oncethe animal is in range, you haveonly to release the weapon withouthaving to cock it back. Once youthrow the rabbit stick and hit theanimal, move to it quickly and qui-etly. Be ready to give a killing blowif necessary. If your initial strikeonly wounds your prey, you mustkeep the woodchuck from escapingto its hole, where it may die alonger and more painful death, leav-ing you hungry and feeling terrible.

A mortally wounded animal maysprint off into cover, exhibiting nosigns of serious injury, only to col-lapse shortly after reaching “safety.”If your quarry successfully reachescover and you believe you had asolid strike, stay put. An injured ani-mal will often lay up in a thicket torecover or rest, and you may startleit into flight and be unable to followand catch it. After waiting for abouttwenty to thirty minutes, slowlystalk toward the place you initiallystruck the animal and check for vis-ible tracks or a blood trail. Followthe trail as best you can, weapon atthe ready, and scan the area. If youget a second shot, make it count.

The best advice is to practice,practice, and practice some more!


Injuring an animal is worse thankilling it. If it is dead, you can makesure that its body is appreciatedand fully utilized. Every time youuse a tool that incorporates some ofthat animal’s body, you can’t helpbut give thanks. However, an ani-mal’s injury without death takes anunknown toll not only on the animalbut also on you as you wonderwhat is to become of it. Good cancome in the form of valuable les-sons in a botched hunt. When youinjure an animal, you note the mis-takes you made and vow, for theinjured animal’s sake, to neverrepeat them.

There is no substitute for prac-tice. Every landscape is unique insome way or another, and the onlyway to find out the best way to hunta given area is to stalk and huntthere.

Practice hard, hunt well, and givethanks.

For proper care of the carcass,see “Carcass Care”(page 54). Andbe sure to check local hunting regu-lations for learning acceptablemethods of taking game and howyou can obtain a hunting license.

Woodchucks are remarkably tough creatures. This one wasnot about to roll over and die for us. Her hide was thick, her dis-position sharp. Quite an animal.

On we continued, noticing accumulations of pine pitch inholes created by pileated woodpeckers feeding on carpenterants. We crossed a highway and entered a swamp with mean-dering creeks and waterways. Muskrat sign was plentiful. Deerand other animals left sign as well.

We stumbled upon a pair of jumping mice that gracefullyleaped ahead of us in a high-arcing trajectory. As we followed,we watched them plunge into a waterway. They swam with suchease, rapidly propelling themselves across open waters. Theirbeautiful two-toned coats barely entered water, as they swam sohigh out of the stream. A wonderful encounter! Although afairly common track, I’ve only seen jumping mice a few timesin the wild.

As we looped back to camp, we grazed on raspberries andselected deer bones from a skeleton we found for various proj-ects. We also collected cattails and hauled them in bundles onour heads, gathering pitch and cached woodchuck along theway. A woodchuck meal and beautiful sunset followed. As theblood red sun disappeared behind the western hill, the bottomsof the clouds turned hot pink with accents of orange. A breezeblew our smoke northeast. We hoped it would not bring rain.

As night moved in around us, I laid back to relax and watchtreetops sway. The silhouette of a flying squirrel soared above usfrom tree to tree. Flickering firelight caught its white under-sides. I find hickories and acorns opened by these squirrels fre-quently, so I’d say there are many on this hill.

Day 17

We made an early morning cattail run. Our shelter is comingalong—maybe one more cattail run to finish it. The wind is



whipping through our camp, the trees bending and swaying.Wind cleans areas, bringing new energy while moving out theold. I feel so refreshed, so invigorated, sitting in wind.

I discovered a wild pear tree to the northeast. The smallfruits are not quite ready, but I’ll be visiting again when theyare. As I explored, I visited a massive raspberry patch. First Igorged to fill my belly, then gathered extra berries to experi-ment with drying the fruit for future use.


Preserving and Storing FoodHunting and food gathering are nec-essary components of natural livingbut should not consume all of yourtime. As seasons change, variousedibles come and go, and with thisin mind, we gathered beyond onemeal’s worth of food when opportu-nities presented themselves.

PRESERVING BERRIESHere in the northeast corner of theUnited States, summertime is filledwith an abundance of berries—more than Mark and I could possi-bly eat, and not for lack of trying.(Any trackers on our trail wouldhave thought there were a couple ofhuge raccoons in the area if theywere to come across any of ourscat!) In order to capitalize on theabundance of raspberries near ourcamp before they passed their

prime, we harvested many basketsand brought them to camp to drythem. We crushed our berries into ajamlike consistency on our fryingrock (see “Making Camp,” page32), then spread the berry pasteevenly over it. The rock was thenpropped at a steep angle facing abed of coals in the fire pit.

It is important that you not cookor burn the mush, only dry it. Agood gauge is to watch the drip-pings; if they start smoking, pull the


rock back carefully. Keep monitor-ing the berry mush until the steamcoming off it is greatly reduced.Then set the rock aside to cool. Itwill take some trial and error untilyou get it just right.

If you leave the mashed berriesnear the heat for a shorter period oftime, you will end up with stickyfruit leather, whereas longer expo-sure will result in fruit chips (easilyreconstituted with water). The chipswill last indefinitely if they are keptdry—a tall order in humid condi-tions. A good idea is to store themin a well-dried-out pine bark box inthe rafters of your shelter or in aprotected location where the heat ofyour fire will regularly dry the airaround them.

PRESERVING MEAT BY DRYINGThe meat we eat nowadays is so fullof spices, preservatives, and foreignflavors that few people can reallydifferentiate between venison andbeef. This is not to suggest that allmeat prepared in the wild must beeaten with no spices, but merelythat the true flavor should not bedrowned out, only enhanced.Contrary to popular belief, all meatdoes not taste like chicken, andeach has its own unique qualitiesand flavors.

Why Dry Meat?Without the aid of cold weather to


preserve meat, utilizing an entiredeer carcass before it begins to rotrequires a great many mouths, alarge appetite, or another way ofpreserving it, such as drying.Survival has traditionally been agroup effort, with each person spe-cializing in a few skill areas. Thismade for easier utilization of a largeanimal carcass and therefore wasnot as daunting a task as it was foran individual.

Drying the meat of an entire deercarcass is not difficult, but it is timeconsuming, and in warm weatheryou must tend the meat and firecontinually. The first time I dried themeat of a deer, it took two and ahalf days. My weather-forecastingskills, or lack thereof, detected rainonly once it started falling; thus, abig, sustained fire was needed tokeep the meat from spoiling.

There are a few important pointsto keep in mind when drying meat.One: The goal is to dry the meat ina number of hours, not cook it.Cooked meat will spoil and badmeat will make you sick. Two: Fliesmust be kept away from the meat,and the meat must be kept cleanprior to drying. A fresh piece ofmeat dropped on the ground willhave all manner of things stuck toit, both visible and microscopic. Iuse the animal’s hide as a work sur-face for the meat as I prepare it forthe rack. Three: Wide crossbars onthe rack will prevent speedy dryingof the meat that is in contact with

the wood and will require regularshifting to expose its entirety towarm, dry air.

There are three major steps tofollow to preserve meat by drying:prepare a drying rack, prepare themeat, and tend to the fire.

PREPARE A DRYING RACKDo this before you even begin tohunt. Drying racks are simpleaffairs.


PREPARE THE MEATFor gutting and skinning the animal,see “Carcass Care,” page 54. Here Iwill deal with a skinned and guttedcarcass either hanging from a treeor laying on the green hide. It is agood idea to have a fire next to yourwork area to help keep flies away.

1. Remove the fat and separate themuscle groups (meat is muscleand is divided into easily defin-able pieces separated by a thinmembrane) in the hindquarters.

2. Work your way up the carcasstoward the head. Some parts, likethe ribs, may be put directly onthe fire for immediate consump-tion.

3. Set aside a choice bit like the ten-derloins or a piece of the backstrap; the rest is for jerky.

4. Looking at the meat, you willnotice that it has a “grain”formed of parallel musclestrands.

Larger constructions have a mainskeleton of heavier sticks (one totwo inches in diameter) for supportand thinner cross-sticks on whichto hang the meat. Smaller racks canbe built entirely out of thin (one-halfinch in diameter) sticks. Make yourrack free-standing and sturdyenough to be moved when loadedwith meat. Note: Large animals mayrequire more than one rack.

Tough jerky is cut along the grain(the same direction as the musclefiber), and soft jerky is cut acrossthe grain. I like it either way. Apiece of pine bark, inner side up,

Tripod drying rack

Meat showing the grain

works well as a cutting board (see“Bark Containers,” page 111). Themeat is sliced into one-eighth-inch-thick pieces and as long andwide as is manageable.

5. If you’ve harvested some spices,now is a good time to rub theminto the meat. Garlic mustard,wild leeks, wild garlic, chives,and other mustards are some ofmy favorites. Look in a fieldguide to find out what is in sea-son, and make sure you are 100percent positive of the plant’sidentity and edibility.

6. Place the pieces of meat on therack close together but nottouching.

TEND TO THE FIRETending the fire is important, as isthe meat’s proximity to the fire. Forsmall quantities of meat, I’ll placethe rack on the leeward side of thefire so that the breeze blows warm,dry air over it. If it is windy, you cancreate a windbreak with stackedwood, hide/cloth, or stone. Betteryet, you can find a more shelteredarea in which to work. At no timeshould the meat be hot to thetouch. You should be able to placeyour hand anywhere over the rackand keep it there indefinitely, butyou should also be able to feel theconstant warmth of the fire. Oncethe drying process starts, you needto keep at it until the meat is dry.The jerky should be dry enough to


crack when bent but not brittle. Norshould it be greasy or shiny.Shininess often reveals fat in themeat, which must be removed inorder to prevent the meat frombecoming rancid.

PEMMICANPemmican is a mixture of renderedfat, jerky, and dried berries. Becausefat is flammable, a great way to ren-der it in a primitive situation is torock-boil water and add chunks offat to it. It takes a lot of hot rocks,but the end results are great. When the fat chunks have beengreatly reduced or have disappearedaltogether, any chunks floating ontop should be removed along withany impurities you can see. Let thewater cool. When the fat is cool, itwill congeal, and you can lift it offthe water. You can grind up jerkyand dried fruit between two stonesor pulverize them with a stick, thenadd them to the fat. Stuff the mix-ture into rawhide containers (see“Rawhide and Sinew,” page 221)for storage. As long as it is keptdry, pemmican will last indefinitely.

The constant breeze has allowed for an experience I haven’t hadsince winter. I sat in field and forest without the buzzing andbiting of gnats and mosquitoes. What a huge relief. Withoutdistraction, I sat like a stump, silent and still, absorbing the nat-ural cycles around me.

David returned to camp as the sun became red, carryingthree sunfish. He was ecstatic. Cordage and bone hooks hadworked, and we all reaped the benefits.

Day 18

David and I woke early to try our luck with bone hooks in asmall pond on the next hill, where Mike had seen the shadowsof large bass in the cattails the day before. The fields were car-peted in white as the seed heads of grass held the morning dew;it could have been the first frost of late fall. Our bare feet weresoaked within steps.

The pond was small and still, a hollow between two hills.Murky waters reflected the massive hickories to our east, andcattails lined the far bank. We cast and cast, each of our hooksbaited with crayfish. Both of us had nibbles, nothing more.

We met Mike on our return, who had been hunting. Wepeered into another pond bathed in morning sun. In the shal-lows were masses of tiny blood-redworms, filter feeding like the feath-ery appendages of barnacles. Whenwe touched or poked them, theywould quickly withdraw into tinyholes in the mud, but would reap-pear to feed moments later.

We made another cattail runas a group, and were thrilled todiscover a small patch of ground-


Bone hook


nut. We collected the bulbous roots for dinner, which arecooked and taste like potatoes. Hauling massive bundles of cat-tails was draining. Our camp was atop a steep ridge thatrequired sections of crawling: visitor unfriendly. My legsburned with each step.

David was heading home again. He’s clear how this is nothis time for survival. He prefers to spend time trying new skillsand worrying less about food. Mike and I were off to try newfish spears upriver. We’ve been without rain for a bit except fora quick shower last evening.

The first pool we encountered provided habitat for a schoolof suckers and a few trout. I began stalking deeper into coldwater. Frigid stream crept up my inner thigh, and I paused justbefore the cold water reached that crucial part of a man’sanatomy. I took a deep breath and was up to my waist. Standingstill with spear poised, like a great blue heron, I began to sepa-rate sucker from trout. The mottled skin of trout blends so wellwith stony streams. As I continued to stare, I was suddenly ableto discern trout shapes among rocks in the current. Brook troutalso have white edges along their fins, which helped to furtherdifferentiate fish from stone and trout from sucker.

I selected a trout and began to stalk forward. Mike, on theshore closest to the trout, offered his opinion on the distancebetween spear and fish. I closed in, leaned forward, quickly prayedI’d catch the fish, and lunged. A cloud of silt whirled up about thespear. I held firm, spear embedded in the stream floor. I felt a wig-gle—I had him! Not quite, actually. In chest-deep water, it wasdifficult to submerge and still keep the fish pinned. Mike came tothe rescue and held the spear down from land. I submerged andfound the gills, which I used as a handle. I reemerged, trout heldhigh, and let loose an exuberant yell. A twelve-inch trout, a beau-tiful beast! The high lasted some time before I realized how cold Iwas—chest-deep in cool water in the shade. Spearfishing is yetanother skill that completely immerses you in nature.

I speared two more trout further upstream and caught myfirst fish by hand. Mike also caught two by hand. We feasted onsix trout seasoned with wild garlic and pennycress, which we call


“jimmies,” because they look like the chocolate sprinkles thatcover ice cream cones. We wrapped chunks of cooked, bonelesstrout in garlic mustard leaves and popped them into ourmouths. What a day; what a meal! I closed my eyes, and the fla-vor seemed appropriate for the finest New York City restaurants.Today we were not “surviving,” we were living like yuppies.

Food seems to be coming in fairly regularly, but we all stilltease each other with fantasies of sweets and modern meals.The toughest part is not filling the gaping hole in your stomachbut ignoring the mental desires for a more varied diet. Ofcourse, if I knew more plants and more about wilderness cook-ing, I’d be able to further diversify my diet.

The dried raspberry experiment worked well—a fruitleather with magnificent flavor.

Day 19

Last evening, I began to feel a bit headachy. I passed it off as alack of water, but it persisted. We lounged about, then decided


Self portrait; pinning a fish for Mike

to hunt and explore down valley. I stalked several woodchucksbut was unsuccessful. I watched one animal strip the leaves ofgoldenrods for food. I never knew they ate goldenrod. Watchinganimals yields so much. Even a glimpse teaches you immeasur-able amounts about movement and behavior.

Last night, I watched the sun set over the western hill andcontinued to sit as dusk settled. A changing of the guardoccurred all about me. Flying barn swallows and catbirds werejoined by chimney swifts and waves of bats. The bats displayedsuch prowess of flight, looping, diving, and spinning to catchinsects.

I slept poorly last night. I awoke feeling very hot and mymouth, lips, and tongue were dry. It was still dark outside. Thebirds had not yet begun to sing. I pushed holes in the door andstretched for fresh air. A cool breeze trickled in, refreshing me.Mosquitoes began to fly about my head. I managed catnaps forthe remainder of the night.

As dawn approached, the first bird to sing was the peewee.It sang single solemn notes with great silent lengths in betweeneach note. It never completed its songs. After some time, thetanager joined in, and eventually a veery, a hermit thrush, thenothers.

With predawn light, I pushed through the door and lay out-side. I was groggy, cotton-mouthed, overheated, and feeling abit like I had the flu. I decided to wear shoes and socks, becauseI didn’t have the energy to concentrate on walking right away—a strange contradiction, because I was off to hunt.

I headed straight for drinkable water and refueled. I feltexhausted and ill. I had to hunt, though. I wandered fields look-ing for woodchucks and was surprised to see absolutely none atthis hour. I saw only a few deer, and that was about it.

I paused often to regain energy. I stared at the dewdrops onred clover to distract my mind from my body. The flowerslooked frosted; they were covered in tiny droplets—their hairystalks illuminated by water. I don’t know if I’d consciously rec-ognized their hairy stalks before. They were beautiful.


I took another long break next to a pond. Steam crossed thepond and swirled upward into the air in two places. All thesteam on the left side of the pond swirled up in one spot, andall the steam on the right accumulated in another spot. Whytwo spots? I wondered. I closed my eyes momentarily, and whenI opened them, the right spot had disappeared. All the steamrolled along the surface and swirled upward in the place on theleft side, venturing high above the trees before dissipating.

I lounged on a flat rock in a field, hoping to feel better. ButI did not improve, so I headed for more water and then backto camp. I met Mike along the way, who had discovered on ahill to the south a small stream that had recently dried up. Hehad found and gathered fifty to sixty tiny bass flipping aboutin the mud.

We roasted them on sharp sticks. Mike absolutely lovedthem. He claimed he was eating gourmet. I tolerated them, pre-ferring the flavor of woodchuck jerky.

I was still feeling woozy and not up to par. I worked on thegroup shelter a bit—it would be nice when finished. I thoughtI’d take the day easy, performing tasks that could be done sit-ting, and see what happened.

The cicadas were singing today. Either this was the first dayor I’ve been oblivious thus far. Cicadas have a fascinating lifecycle. Females cut slits in tree branches, where they lay theireggs. The nymphs hatch and drop to the ground, where theyburrow into the ground and feed on root systems for four totwenty years before climbing a tree and emerging as an adult.Nature never ceases to amaze me.

I accompanied Mike on a hike. My body was so hot I justwore shorts, exchanging cooler temperatures for mosquito bites.I dipped in the stream to lower my body temperature, and thiswas effective for a short while. Maybe I’m cleansing, trying toburn something up in my body. I forgot to mention that Istarted the day with two cases of diarrhea. Something’s not right.

I napped in the afternoon in the debris hut to escape mos-quitoes. There is a brown cricketlike species that lives in the wall


near my head. I’d thought the noises I’d heard during the nightwere some sort of chewing, but in the light, I saw the two spinesthat projected from its abdomen rub together to create thesounds.

I hadn’t been up long when David returned from town withthe good news that David’s girlfriend, Leah, and Kayla would visitin about a week. We then discussed diet and lethargy, and heagreed a lack of carbohydrates might be the cause of my illness.

So we set out to dig roots, to see if they would help. We har-vested burdock and wild leeks along the stream near a popularhiking trail leading to a pond. While we dug about in the earth,shin-deep in leeks and Virginia creepers, a family hiked by car-rying swimming and picnic gear. We sat twenty feet from thetrail in plain view, yet only the youngest, about five years old,looked in our direction. It seemed as if some part of her wasaware of our presence, but not consciously. Modern educationhad perhaps beaten intuition and vigilant attention out of herelder companions. Luckily, they can be revitalized with coaxingand practice.

Day 20

I awoke fairly early, again uncomfortably hot—unhealthily so.Luckily, there was water in camp, which I poured down mythroat. I sat next to the fire pit, cooling slowly, adding leaf litterto the remaining coals to keep the merciless mosquitoes at bay.I slept on and off another hour before the others joined me.

We spent the morning making new cooking containers,because bark containers wear out with use. We’re hoping to firesome pots soon, for longer-lasting cookware. As the morningprogressed, I began to feel better. We all agreed to convene at themost recently felled pine when the sun was directly above to go“crayfishing” for dinner.

Arriving first, I sat down at the steam edge to await theothers. A kingfisher landed just across the stream, and shortly




Myths are plentiful about possiblecooking containers if metal ones arenot available. When you are in theoutdoors, four materials are avail-able for making cooking containers.

1. Hide: Unfortunately, hide is notdurable enough for cooking con-tainers (it will work for only fiveto eight meals). It requires a suc-cessful hunt and seems like awaste. Hides are not easy tocome by.

2. Stone: Stone containers are time-consuming to make and hard tolug around. Your best stoneoption is a pothole in a stoneriverbank. These are usuallyfound where water has cutthrough rock for thousands ofyears and formed rounded holesof varying size and depth. Eventhen, it needs to be cleaned, andduring the cooking process thesurrounding rock will absorbplenty of heat.

3. Clay: This is a good option butalso requires a lot of work andextensive processing. Plus, theresults are not guaranteed. It is,however, an excellent choice for along-term stay.

4. Bark or wood: Of the optionslisted, bark and wood are often

the most accessible and are defi-nitely the fastest choice. They arediscussed below in more detail.

BARK CONTAINERSOf all the barks I have tried, that ofthe eastern white pine has provento be the best. Other good barkscome from birch, tulip poplar, cedar(eastern and western), and elm, butyou should experiment with others.Historically, birch bark was usedbecause it could be harvested anddried in flat sheets. When needed, itwas merely heated to regain its plia-bility. Birch bark also has a naturalpreservative.

A suitable tree or branch for har-vest is one that has smooth barkand can provide enough material inone piece for your project. Bark canbe harvested from a live tree withlittle chance of killing it as long asyou do not remove so much thatyou girdle the tree. Harvesting awhole tree and making many con-tainers is also an option.

When you look for a tree to har-vest, seek out one that makes eco-logical sense to remove. This wouldmean a tree that is either going todie in the next few years or one thatis crowding out more desired plant

Cooking Containers


species. A tree that is going to diecould be one that will clearly becrowded out in the next few yearsor perhaps one that has begun tofall, toppled by heavy winds orstream-bank erosion. Whatever thecase, survey the surrounding areaand think about how the removal ofthe tree will affect the area over thenext few years. When its removallets more light in for other plants,how will they respond? What wouldhappen if the tree were left stand-ing? Would it survive? The goal intree selection is to be as sure asyou can that the tree’s removal ismore beneficial to the area than if itwere left standing.

Some barks, such as cedar andelm, take more care to bend. Thesemust be scored along the fold orbend lines. Whether you score theinside or the outside of the bark isup to you, although scoring the out-side has a couple of benefits. First,the outside bark is often less flexi-ble and is liable to break or peelaway from the inner layer, weaken-ing it. This can lead to leaks.Second, the flexible fibers are onthe inside of the bark, not the roughouter portion, and scoring on theinside cuts some of them andreduces the number of effectivefibers.

Apparently, scoring on the insideis more common today, the ideabeing that the tough outer bark willprotect the fold lines. But of all thebooks I’ve read mentioning bark

containers, only one speaks of scor-ing the outside, and this was only inreference to an undated museumpiece. Both ways seem to workwell, so see which suits your needs.

1. Fell the branch or tree.2. Make cuts all the way through

the bark.

3. Gently peel up one corner of thepiece of bark with a knife or yourfingertip. Then, with your fingerssliding up and down the straightcut, separate the bark from thelog. If you remove the bark froma fresh-cut tree or limb, it willcome off easily and have the plia-bility of green hide.

4. Small strips of the inner bark of apine tree work well for tying andstitching. Care must be takenwhen making holes for stitching.

Peeling bark

Due to the straight grain of thebark, ripping is a threat. Use asmall, blunt twig as an awl, twist-ing as you push it gently throughthe bark. When stitching andtying, do not cinch down tootightly, as tearing can result.

Any container that can be foldedfrom paper can be made with pinebark.

The container will stiffen within afew days and can be used regularlyfor both cooking (rock boiling) andeating. It is possible to cook directlyon the coals one or two times. Thebark will burn to the water line andthe outer bark will also burn off,leaving a very thin, fragile layer.

WOOD CONTAINERSFinding a piece of wood suitable formaking a bowl is a trick in itself. Inthe absence of a saw or an ax, largepieces of wood can be found andburned down to a workable size.This is done by slowly burningaway unwanted material, frequentlyremoving it from the fire and scrap-ing away the charcoal to help pre-vent your piece from cracking. If theprocess is rushed, large cracks canappear and ruin the project. Cracksare not always bad, however; some-times you can exploit them by driv-ing a wedge of stone or hardwoodinto them, splitting the log in halfand saving yourself time.


The four steps of folding a container

A

B

C

D

afterwards Mike approached and sat down. No words werespoken, and we both watched the nearby bird. Kingfishers areremarkably hard to approach and extremely skittish. The beauti-ful bird sat motionless, her blue headdress in perfect form. Thered belt under her blue collar, which is absent in males, was stun-ning and accentuated by her white chest. As the bird switched

views on the surrounding pools, shewould simultaneously flick her headand tail upward. The bird’s amazingbeak was longer than her head.

We watched and watched,enthralled by such distinctive fea-tures. With a rattle call, her mateapproached and landed a few feetfrom us. Two stunning birds fishing


Once a manageable piece issecured, you can hollow it into abowl by placing a small heap ofhardwood coals on the area youwish to hollow out. By blowingsoftly on the heap either with yourmouth or through a hollow tube, thecoals will burn into the wood.Blowing on the coals is optionalwhen you are working with a smallpile of them; however, if a breeze isblowing, make sure to turn yourbowl now and then to avoid burningout one side. Periodically removethe coals and scrape out the char-coal. Add more coals and continue.If an area is becoming too thin,place sand, stone, or mud over it toprevent further burning. If you seeflames, dump the coals in the firepit

and scrape the bowl. Flames indi-cate too much heat and are a suresign that cracks will soon appear ifyou don’t act quickly.

Spoons can be made in the samemanner. Carve out a spoon blank (apiece of wood made to look roughlylike a spoon), and use a single coalheld in place with a stick. Blow withlong, slow breaths on the coal,dump it in the fire pit, and scrapeout the charcoal. Use a blunt stickas a scraper to avoid scoring theinside of the project. A little sandplaced in the bowl and rubbedaround works well as sandpaper.Once you’re satisfied with the“bowl,” finish carving the spoon toyour liking.


under a hazy sun. Suddenly, the male dropped into a pool andwas off downstream, prize in beak, female in pursuit. David hadnot appeared, so Mike and I moved on.

Crayfishing lasted maybe twenty minutes before it becamean expedition focused on hand fishing for trout. I was the firstto become distracted when I discovered a sizable fish under arock I had checked for crayfish. There was no other exit for thisfish, so I reached in, cornered it, found a handle, and pulled itout—the first trout catch we deemed opportunistic living. Westill planned to gather crayfish.

Then we heard children’s voices. Mike and I slipped up thebank and they clambered into view upstream. The group hikedtoward us in the stream, armored with rubber soles and swim-suits. The counselor stopped at the pool just below us and said,“Look at the fish.” They all filed up, half looking, half jokingwith each other. One girl asked if they would bite her.

Mike and I lay several feet above their heads, but they neverlooked up. They were too concerned with where their feetwould land in the stream. A second counselor announced,“Well, we’ll stay here and wash our hair.” We silently crept off tocollect our dinner elsewhere.

Just a bit upstream, Mike glimpsed a massive trout as itsought refuge in a hole under the bank. He had to have it. Hesubmerged his body and reached under as far as his bodyallowed. His faced was etched with determination and con-torted as he tried to gain a few more inches. Eventually, hepulled forth about a seventeen-and-a-half-inch trout (Mike’shand has a spread of nine inches, or so he says). Wow, what afish for this stream. It was enormous.

I caught one next, then Mike caught one, then I got one again.The feel of trout on your fingertips is incredible. You “tickle” themand they press into you. Beautiful fish. David joined us andwanted to catch one so badly, he stayed until he had caught two.

Dinner in hand, we turned to collecting bulrush seeds tomake a carb-loaded gruel that would help us gain energy andbalance. Roots had definitely helped, and we hoped a gruelwould complete the healing.


So what’s a meal like up hereanyway? Meals are quite an affairindeed. Tonight, I built the tipi ofsmall twigs and prepared a tinderbundle, while David created a coalfrom friction and abrasion betweentwo pieces of black birch. The coalwas cradled in tinder and blowninto flame. The flame ignited thetipi, cooking rocks were added, andthe fire was built up around them.


Tipi FiresHow do you build a fire that can belit with only one match or a coal inany weather? Use the form of a tipi.A well-built tipi fire can burn with noattention for extended periods oftime, because as the wood burns, itcollapses inward, thus feeding itself.Also, as heat rises, it passes aroundthe wood. This means that, in wetweather, the wood in the tipi firebegins drying the moment the tinderis ignited. Finally, the outer firewoodprotects the flame from severeweather, be it snow, rain, or wind.

TIPI FIRE COMPONENTSTinderTrue tinder consists of any dry, thin,flammable material that, when

nested around a coal, can be blowninto a flame. The following are allgood for your tinder bundle: theouter bark of red cedar; the innerbark of any dead poplar, basswood,or maple tree; dry grasses; cattaildown; cottonwood cotton; and milk-weed fibers and down. The downymaterials are good additives but donot make very good tinder on theirown. Buff or briskly rub the othertinder between your hands to sepa-rate the fibers. This promotes briskburning when the tinder is ignited.

Fine KindlingThis kindling can be lit with a smallflame from a match or a tinder bun-dle. Kindling that can be lit with aflame includes pine needles (which

Hand drill


can also be used with a coal in apinch), birch bark, freshly driedstrips of pine bark cambium, thesmallest of branches, and otherwoody materials. Dead hemlockbranch ends are also superb, as isdried flood debris from alongstreams.

Rough KindlingThin, dry branches and plant stalksup to the thickness of a pencil makegreat rough kindling to get the firegoing.

First WoodThe first wood that you add to yourfire should be the thickness of apencil to that of your wrist. Thiswood helps ignite the actual fire-wood.

FirewoodFirewood should be the thickness ofyour wrist or larger. It is used tokeep a fire burning for extendedperiods of time.

COLLECTING WOODDry wood burns far better than wetor green wood and is necessary forstarting fires. Because wood on theground tends to absorb moisture,try to use dead branches from treesthat are either alive or dead and thatare still standing. Check with localauthorities about regulationsregarding the harvesting of wood.Even during wet weather, branches


on trees are surrounded by air anddried by the wind. Even if a branchis wet on the outside, the inside isusually dry. If you have any doubts,break a piece of wood. If it snaps intwo without much bending, itshould be good to use.

A broken branch can be heldagainst your upper lip, which ishighly sensitive to moisture, asanother “dry test.”

When you are collecting fire-wood, keep in mind that it is notnecessary to break all of it intoeighteen-inch lengths. Let the firework for you and burn longer logsinto shorter logs Caution: Be knowl-edgeable about fire danger in yourarea, and always keep the fire con-tained within your fire pit. See“Making Camp” [page 32] for moreon fire pits.

BUILDING YOUR TIPI FIRE1. Take a handful of twelve-inch fine

kindling and rough kindling inboth hands, thumbs down, andbend or break it in the middle(they need not separate).

2. Place the kindling in your fire pitand form it into a rough tipi ortriangular shape. Use yourthumbs to ensure that you have adoorway and an open area insidefor the tinder. Face the opening tothe wind to help spread the fireinto the tipi.

3. Lay on more kindling and firstwood, starting with smaller

pieces and building up until yourtipi is big enough for the job.

4. Practice making fires of differentsizes in a safe location, such as ariverbed (if flash floods are not athreat), to determine what size isadequate for various needs.

5. Set aside wood of all sizes tocover your tipi door once the tin-der is lit and placed inside. If you


are using a coal to start your fire,either ignite your tinder and placeit in the tipi, or place the smokingtinder bundle into the tipi justprior to ignition. Give it a finalbreath of air once it is in place.Then just cover the door and sitback. The fire should need no tin-kering for some time.

Mike held cooking containers made from white pine barkthat were folded and sewn so they could hold water. He stuffedthem with greens and roots to prepare for the addition of cook-ing rocks. He had piled various seasonings for the fish alongbark strips, which we used as plates. He lined up the fish, calcu-lated even amounts, and found skewers for roasting. We hadtried baking trout in grape leaves and cooking them on rocks,but we preferred roasting trout until we heard the sounds ofskin bubbling and juice dripped into the flames.

We always started with the smallest fish and worked ourway up. We had discovered that with trout—which isn’t true forall foods—the larger the fish, the more tender, the more flavor-ful, and the more juicy. By the time we ate the first few fish, therocks were ready. We boiled our veggie stew and served it withthe remaining fish. I ate the two together—layers of cookedgreens and trout. Mike and David alternated between them.

Overall, our meal was superb. The large trout had pink meat,like salmon. It also remained pink when cooked, unlike thesmaller fish, which turned white. We then lounged around thefire. We often joked about desserts. Mike smoked a cigarette,leaning against an oak, then said he’d quit soon. David returnedto a project—he never sits still. I usually lean back and watch forthe silhouettes of southern flying squirrels in the last remnants ofevening light, enjoying the productivity of being nonproductive.



Rock boiling is a technique wherebyrocks heated in a fire are used tocook or purify liquids such as soupor water. You will need the followingitems:

• A waterproof container (stone,bark, or other)

• Eight egg-sized stones (per halfgallon of soup)

• A pair of tongs (see “MakingCamp,” page 32)

• A good fire

Follow these steps:

1. Collect your rocks. If you gath-ered them in a water-rich areasuch as a creek bed or lakeshore,heat them slowly and/or keep outof the fire area to avoid injurydue to exploding rocks. (Somerocks have small cracks that areinvisible to the human eye. Overtime, these cracks allow water toenter. When the rock is heated,the water in the stone turns tosteam and leaves through thecrack by which it entered, orexpands faster than the crack canaccommodate, and breaks therock. Often, the rock simply fallsapart because there is notenough room within the stone to


allow pressure to build up.However, sometimes there isroom and the pressure builds tosuch a level that the rockexplodes with potentially deadlyforce. Quartz rocks are known forexploding because of the manycavities found within them wheresteam pressure can build.)

2. Place the rocks in a hardwoodfire, leaving a few inches betweeneach rock to allow for betterheating.

3. Fill the container (see “CookingContainers,” page 111) one halffull of water or soup and wait forthe rocks to heat (it will takeabout forty-five minutes) untilthey are glowing hot.

4. Remove rocks from the fire withtongs, and carefully blow the ashfrom both. Slowly lower therocks into the liquid, and keepadding rocks until a boil isachieved (a half gallon of waterrequires three to five egg-sizedrocks and about thirty seconds;eight rocks were suggested toaccount for some breakageand/or to maintain a boil for afew minutes). To maintain a boil,periodically remove stones andadd more hot rocks.

Rock Boiling

There were no wrappers to throw away, no wasted contain-ers or plastics. All refuse was burned or left away from camp forothers to eat. Even our bark containers will eventually return tothe earth. When we tear out the fire pit and sprinkle debris acrossthe area, only skilled trackers will know we had ever been here.


Day 21

I had another hot night, but I’m feeling better. The weather thelast few days has been extremely hot and muggy. Mike and Istarted the day with a good bowl of gruel. We worked on newideas for canteens, then hiked to look for more bulrush seedsand berries. Low-bush blueberries were ripe in places.

We discovered the nest of a warbling vireo, a bird you usu-ally hear rather than see. It made quite a fuss, calling continu-ously, while coming down to our level. Round and round the


vireo circled, calling, call-ing, calling. A female red-start came to see what allthe fuss was about andsilently moved on.

We all collected cray-fish during the afternoon,and we caught a smallsnapper. We studied its feet for a while and finally let it go in anice plot of mud for tracks. Mike and I had recently been dis-cussing snapping turtle tracks, so it was a wonderful opportu-nity to watch them being made. The snapper also left us a scatto marvel over, an interesting crescent-shaped deposit reminis-cent of toad scat.

Day 22

I awoke hot, of course. As I lay in my shelter, I listened to Davidapproach. He knelt outside my debris hut and began gulpingwater. I listened as he gulped and gulped and gulped. It wascommunity water, but the night before I had asked the two ofthem if I might put it outside my hut, explaining how I hadbeen waking so hot. No one minded. There was enough for allof us to start the day. But, as I listened to David’s endless gulp-ing, I began to worry.

I pushed at my door and watched David walk away. Hedidn’t turn to say “good morning” or acknowledge me in anyway. I reached for the container and discovered he had leftnothing but a debris-ridden corner of swill. I was most per-turbed. David had been angry with me the day before, becauseI’d told him he was too competitive, and I felt this was his pas-sive-aggressive way of pushing me.

It must be noted how short my patience had become in thelast few days. I wiggled out of my debris hut and grabbed thecontainer. On my way to the fire circle, I decided not to con-



If you were thirsty while out in thewild, where would you find a drink?

I grew up drinking from streamsand lakes and never suffered any ill-ness because of it. However, I canrecall a time when a fellow drankfrom the same spot I did andbecame ill by the end of the day. Itis a risk to drink from any untestedbody of water. If you are in doubt,purify water by boiling or filtration.Obtaining a drink from othersources is also an option.

SAPTree SapIn the spring, during cycles whenthe temperature drops below freez-ing at night and warms up duringthe day, sap will run in the trees.Fresh sap from some trees is deli-cious and safe to drink. Maple, wal-nut, and black birch trees can betapped in the following manner:

1. On the side of the tree that isexposed to the sun, carve, chop,or abrade a vertical channelthrough the bark and into thegreen wood.

2. At the bottom of this channel,bore a hole with a knife tip orsharp stone, and hammer in a


pointy, fire-hardened twig or stickin such a way that it slopes gen-tly downward.

3. Add channels radiating out fromthe center channel at an upwardangle.

Liquids, Water Gathering, and Purification

4. Place a container at the base ofthe tree, under the lower end ofthe protruding twig or stick, tocatch the sap.

5. As the sap moves in the tree, itwill flow from the grooves intothe central channel, and fromthere it will move to the twig,drip off the end, and collect inthe container.

6. Boiling the sap down will giveyou ever thicker and sweetersyrup as the water evaporates,leaving behind the sugars andother flavors. The pure sap, how-ever, is delicious and safe todrink. Forty gallons of sugarmaple sap will provide one gallonof syrup. Twice that amount isrequired for birch.

Grapevine SapGrapevines can be cut and the sapcollected in the spring and fall bythe following method:

1. Cut a grapevine three to five feetabove the ground.

2. Bend the vine over and, if needbe, tie it so that the fast-drippingsap falls into a container.

3. Re-cut the vine end every day orso to maintain a flow; otherwise,the plant will heal enough to stopthe flow altogether.

SURFACE WATERSurface water from streams, ponds,and the like may require some sort


of purification prior to consumption.Filters to remove sediment andother larger debris can be madewith clothing or layers of grass,charcoal, and sand, but it is boilingthat ensures a safe drink. Accordingto the National Ski Patrol, bringingwater just to a boil will kill almostall harmful viruses, protozoa, andbacteria. The Centers for DiseaseControl and Prevention (CDC)advises bringing water at elevationsfrom sea level to sixty-five hundredfeet to a rolling boil for one minute,then allowing it to cool to an ambi-ent temperature. Above sixty-fivehundred feet, CDC suggests main-taining a rolling boil for three min-utes. (For more on boiling, see“Rock Boiling” on page 119.) If youchoose to drink from a stream, doso from an area that has a good,steady flow, such as from near thebottom of rapids or riffles.

Other Ways to Gather Surface Water• Clothing can be used to soak up

dew by dragging it or brushing itover grasses and then wringingthe moisture out into a container.Let the water stand, skim off any-thing floating on the surface, andcarefully pour off the water into aclean container without disturbingany sediment on the bottom.

• Catchments can be made frombark or clothing to collectrainwater.

• Springs come in many forms. In

the Northeast, seeps are the mostcommon, often appearing assmall, moist areas of earth. Theycan be dug out into shallowdepressions and allowed to fill.Once the sediment has settled,water can be drawn off the top.Springs vary in form from area toarea and from one season toanother, and seeps are by nomeans the only form a spring willtake. In the Southeast, I havefound hillsides where holes thesize of quarters spout clean waterin wet times and seep in drytimes. In the West, I have seensome extreme springs whereholes I could fit in gushed water atsuch a rate it was almost impossi-ble to force my body down againstthe current.

SUBSURFACE WATERDigging is sometimes the best wayto secure water. In a number of sit-uations, digging a hole (seep hole)and allowing it to fill with water isthe easiest option.

You should not dig a hole in anyrandom spot and expect to findwater. The best option is to look forwater indicators. Dry creek beds aregood places to dig, because oftenthe water is still flowing fairly closeto the surface. Wetland trees (wil-lows, basswoods, cottonwoods, andsycamores, to name a few) requirea fair amount of water and are usu-ally good indicators of water near


the surface. I have never had to digmore than three feet using suchindicators and have often foundwater seeping in in less than two.

Other good places to dig are nearswamps, lakes, or moving water. Inthese situations, digging a seephole will provide somewhat filteredwater, as opposed to collectingwater directly from the source.

Along the coast, where saltwateris abundant and freshwater harderto find, animals like coyotes digdown at the lowest points of dunes,where wind has carved out swales.Mark Elbroch found a number ofsuch “wells” and noted that deer,crows, and other animals were ableto capitalize on the coyotes’ work.So can you.

SOLAR STILLThe purpose of a solar still is topromote evaporation of moisturefrom plant matter or other mois-ture-containing objects, provide asurface on which the water vaporcan condense, and give you ameans of collecting the drinkableend product.

Quick StillThe quick still requires one plasticbag, a pebble, and a few inches ofcordage. Place the bag over the endof a branch and put a pebble in onecorner to create a low spot. Tie thebag shut, blocking any flow of air inor out of the bag.

If the branch has green leaves,water will evaporate from them,condense on the inner walls of thebag, and run down to the low spot.To improve this slightly, drapemore green matter (strips of innerbark, leaves, grass, etc.) over thebranch prior to covering it with thebag. To collect the water, untie thebag and tilt the low spot with thepebble upward, allowing the water


to run out of the bag and into awater container.

Clear plastic is more effective inmaking stills than black plastic. Ibelieve this is a result of the sunbeing able to pass through the clearplastic and heat the leaves or othermoist material directly—somethingthat is not possible with black plas-tic. Keep in mind that a number ofsuch stills are required to providean individual with an adequatewater supply.

Water is a valuable resource thatmust not be squandered or takenfor granted, and it is always good toknow where the nearest supply canbe found. Take note of various indi-cators as you move through thelandscape, and take them intoaccount when thinking of a shelterlocation.

front David just then and continued to what we called the“Geronimo Trail,” which is steep enough to require climbinggear. I began to slide down, heading for potable water.

About a third of the way down, I paused to reflect on my lackof patience. I had lost tolerance for smaller issues over the past fewdays. It appeared the others had as well. Was it diet, or long days,or heat? Who knows. People’s eccentricities, and experiences suchas the constant presence of mosquitoes, were beginning to annoyme. I breathed deeply and reminded myself to let it go.

Noise to my right brought me back to reality. The animalwas large, whatever it was, and by the way it moved, I knew itwasn’t human. The beautiful head of a coyote came around the


corner. The splendid mix of rust, black, gray, and white of itscoat gleamed without sun. The animal trotted, cutting acrossthe steep hillside, displaying the typical cruising, traveling gaitof a canine. The animal crossed the Geronimo Trail abouttwenty feet below me, and in an attempt to prolong theencounter, I produced a few chirps. The coyote paused, lockingeyes with mine. Its eyes were deep and dark. The moment of thecoyote’s recognition was clear, and it turned, bounding away atan angle down the hill. Staring at this animal, I could see whycoyotes were called “brush wolves” in colonial times.

If David had left enough water at camp, I would have risenmore slowly, lounged a bit, and missed the coyote altogether.Synchronicity? Pure magic.

I found a suitable peckingstone along the stream, a porousrock soft enough and largeenough to be shaped into a bowl.I had suggested to Mike that heuse his stone bowl for heatingpitch, and it worked like a charm.So, I’m hoping to add a second toour camp over time—a long timebased on my progress thus far.


Stone PeckingSimple yet very useful stone toolscan be made with little skill and alot of patience. Pecking is simplyhitting a softer rock with another,somewhat harder rock. Tiny frag-ments of the softer stone break offand eventually, a groove for holding

a handle or a bowl can be formed.This method is not quick but is wellsuited for rainy days around camp.

Walking any streambed will illus-trate how many kinds of rock areavailable for use in a given area.Some are very hard and work well


for smashing bone to get the mar-row or making shards that can bemade into spears or arrowheads.Some are soft like sandstone, whichcan be used to smooth handles orother articles. Some of the bestrocks to use for bowls are softstones like soapstone and alabaster,although I prefer the medium-grainsanding stones such as basalt,found in riverbeds and elsewhere allover the country. Not to be confusedwith sandstone, medium-grain sand-ing stones are hard enough to useas a bone-hammering stone, yet softenough to be worked.

When selecting a stone for ahammerhead or a bowl, look forrounded stones that have a slightlycoarse feel to them. Look them overcarefully for any variation in theirappearance. They should be uni-form, with no lines or cracks, asthese will likely be breaking points.


White quartz rock is hard enoughto use as a hammer stone for work-ing the rocks mentioned above. It isalso easy to find a piece that fitscomfortably in your hand and has afine enough tip to allow precisestrikes. With such a hammer stone,tap on the rock you have selectedand there should be a little markwhere each strike occurred.

If you are making a bowl, startpecking (tapping) away. Alwayswork on a soft surface like your lap,your hand, or in sand. Otherwise,you will likely crack your piece. Ilove pecking. I find a comfortableposition, leaning against a tree inthe sun or lounging in the foyer ofmy shelter while the rain poursdown, and I’ll work for hours at atime. Tapping on my projectbecomes a meditation of sorts. Myrhythm, matching that of my heart,is somehow soothing. Two or more

The harder rock on the left has been used to peck a groove into the rock on the right

people working projects at the sametime will, in short order, all be peck-ing the same rhythm.

Wetting the stone seems to makethe work progress faster. Strikinghard will, in all likelihood, breakyour stone project. Thin-walledbowls are very tricky, not so muchin the making, but in the keeping—they break easily. One to one andone-half inches thick is pretty good.Just remember to heat the bowlslowly and evenly or it will crack.

For a stone hammerhead, agroove can be pecked around thecenter of the stone. The groove is toreceive a bent, wooden handle madein the same fashion as in tongs (see“Making Camp,” page 32).Additionally, a one-inch diameterbranch or sapling, sixteen incheslong, can be split all the way downits length, and the split sides of oneend can be shaved down. These canthen be placed in the grooves on


either side of the hammerhead withat least three inches extending abovethe hammerhead. The split sticks arethen bound above and below thehammerhead with wet rawhide (see“Rawhide and Sinew,” page 221).

Split-wood handle for hammer

Bent-wood handle

With your quartz hammer stone,tap other stones and listen to thesound. Dull sound comes fromsofter rocks. Higher pitch is an indi-cator of a harder rock. Try chipping


pieces off various rocks. The flakesmay be sharp enough to use forsmall tasks. I’ll often use suchflakes for gutting fish.

Pecking, which is essentially tapping two rocks together, issuch timeless, meditative work. I could go on forever, therhythm driving thoughts away and carrying me deeper anddeeper into the stone. I feel so primitive tapping stones. Thebirds do not send out alarms over the noise, and the animals goabout their business. It’s as if hearing these sounds was part oftheir evolutionary process. Just a primitive man, working alonga rolling stream as the sun hits the valley floor.

We had a brief shower.

Day 23

The three of us slept by the fire for various lengths of the night.The air was a pleasant temperature, which means we wouldbroil in our heat-conserving shelters. Sleep consumed mebetween mosquito attacks on the head; their assaults on the restof my body didn’t seem to wake me.

I spent the morning cleaning a woodchuck skull in thestream. Flesh had rotted away to reveal bone and teeth, and theskull had fallen to pieces; it was a puzzle of plates and teeth.

I had kept an eye on the decomposition process. Flies werethe first to discover the animal, two days after I had set it out inthe branches of a hawthorn bush. Fresh kills are too easily dis-covered on the ground by those that would carry them off.More often, flies find dead flesh much faster, but the two daysof continuous rain must have lowered fly activity or somehow


masked the scent of death. They did find the woodchuck on thefirst day of sun and laid eggs in the mouth and nose.

A few days later, maggots hard at work were competingwith carrion beetles. Only the red species of beetle were pres-ent—no yellow ones this time. I lowered the specimen to theground to keep the teeth from scattering too far. Another fewdays passed, and I found sign that a burying beetle was at work.The head of the woodchuck had fallen into a hole, having beenexcavated from below. The beetle had laid eggs along the floorof the hole, and the woodchuck’s rotting flesh would providefood for the next generation. Earwig-shaped creatures hadjoined the host of others at this point, along with tiny insects ofvarious forms.

On my final visit, a flap of skin remained. A lone carrionbeetle hid underneath it. A few tiny insects were about, but thefeast was over. All that remained was bone and teeth. I’ve foundpillbugs, or sowbugs, sometimes appear at this stage, but nothere, not today.

I’ve begun a practice to help me see more details, to noticethe smaller things in life. I choose a tiny bit of woods, maybe aneight-inch square, and won’t allow myself to move until I findseveral strands of animal hair. This is not an exercise I under-take standing or sitting. To look small, I lie flat and stare at themosaic of litter, twigs, hemlock needles, and varied debris.Depending on my mindset, it may take a minute or ten min-utes. If I find one too fast, I find another.

For me, the goal is to stare continuously to the point whereI’ve just about convinced myself I’ve discovered the first patch ofwoods without animal hair. At this moment, I’m ready to leave,to move on to something more interesting, but it is this momentthat is the start of training. Just beyond, I find my first hair.

Today, I found a red fox hair in a myriad of hemlock nee-dles every tone of brown imaginable. My second woods plottook some time, and I grew impatient. I had discovered the per-fectly shed exoskeleton of a tiny insect with every leg intact,mouse-opened seeds, and tiny sprigs of moss, but it was some


time before I pulled out my first red squirrel hair. The secondwas easy.

I caught a woodchuck away from its burrow. In an attemptto escape, he climbed a white pine. The tree was too large adiameter for easy climbing, and the woodchuck clung to thetrunk eyeing me suspiciously. I decided to try to harvest it fordinner. We hadn’t had fresh woodchuck in some time.

I picked up a large tree branch and walked about, decidingon the best approach—one that would end the ordeal in oneblow. I was somewhat squeamish. I was fine throwing the stickafter a stalk, but this seemed a bit odd. Well, the woodchuckmust have seen my apprehension and decided to take a chanceat running. Off it went, me in close pursuit, stick too large tothrow. The woodchuck made it into a raspberry patch and wasgone. I’m no great hunter, yet.

All day I listened to thunder rolling toward us from thewest. In the afternoon, the storm arrived: dark clouds, intensewinds, and claps of thunder. This was a big one. I made straightfor camp, arriving just before David. We worked quickly onanother layer of “thatch” for the group shelter, which may nowbe the longest project known to humankind. Mike arrivedabout the time the first raindrops began to fall.

We huddled in our incomplete shelter as the torrents ofrain commenced. We watched the exposed supports and theunfinished bits catch rain. The water ran down the wood anddripped onto our heads and bodies. We decided to run for analternative makeshift shelter down the hill to the south.

We all arrived soaked. We sat watching the storm dumpwater on the area. The clouds swirled and the air seemed alivewith color. A green hue hung in the air, thick enough to touch.As dusk approached, the deluge passed. We returned to campand coaxed forth a fire. Mostly dry, I retired to my debris hut, acompletely dry shelter of leaf and stick. Amazing.

I also learned an important lesson this evening: Don’t huntin shorts and a T-shirt unless you have mastered your body’sunconscious responses to physical distractions. There I was,



I have been told that trees consistof stored sunshine. I believe thatnatural fire making is a way of ask-ing the sunshine to release itself,and that asking in a humble manneris the only way you will achieve thedesired results. Here you will begiven the technical directions forthis fire-making ceremony; thehumility must come from you.

The bow-and-drill apparatus ismade up of five components:the fireboard (A), the spindle (B),the cordage (C), the bow (D), andthe handhold (E).

OVERVIEW ON HOW THEBOW AND DRILL WORKSWith the fireboard placed on theground, the spindle wound once inthe cordage, and the ends placed in


the sockets of the fireboard and thehandhold, the bow is moved backand forth parallel to the ground. Thebow strokes rotate the spindle inthe sockets via the cordage.

Fire Making with the Bow and Drill

Simultaneously, you apply down-ward pressure on the handhold,creating friction on both ends of thespindle. Conifer pitch or needlesplaced in the handhold socket mini-mize friction at the top, which alsoresults in a greater amount of heat-generating friction in the fireboardsocket.

E

D

C B

A

Bow and drill

As the spindle moves within thefireboard socket, small particles ofwood wear off both fireboard andspindle and fill the notch with a finedark brown or black powder (firepowder). Because of the intenseheat, the fire powder meldstogether and forms a coal. Youremove the coal from the notch andplace it in a tinder bundle (see “TipiFires,” page 116), then blow thebundle into a flame and put it into aprebuilt tipi fire.

HOW TO BUILD A BOW-AND-DRILL FIREThe specifications given here formaking a bow-and-drill fire arethose I have found to be the mosteffective. This is not to say thatother ways will not work as well.Try them all!

Selecting the WoodIt is possible to make a bow-and-drill fire with any nonresinouswood. Working with hardwoodssuch as oak, ironwood, and othersis a fun challenge, though not desir-able in a survival situation for thefollowing reasons: First, hardwoodtakes more time and energy to fash-ion into a bow-and-drill set.Second, the endurance required tomake a coal with hardwood will useup your valuable energy. And third,making cordage that can withstandsuch continuous use required for anoak bow-and-drill fire is difficult.


Woods such as white cedar, junipercedar, cottonwood, aspen, syca-more, maple, birch, and basswoodwork beautifully for the bow anddrill; aside from the first two theseare the softer deciduous trees.

Each tree is unique, and the hard-ness of wood will vary from branchto branch. An aspen growing withone side to a cliff and one side inthe open will give you very hardwood on the cliff side and muchsofter wood on the exposed side. Itis best to experiment on your ownwith various woods.

When you harvest wood for abow and drill, try to find a deadbranch that is still on the tree. Abranch on the ground can feel dryyet be moist inside due to absorp-tion of moisture from the ground. A branch in a tree is surrounded by air, and the wind helps to evapo-rate moisture quickly even after agood rain.

Making the SpindleSpindles that are nine inches inlength and the diameter of a quarterare preferable, although in dampweather you may want to use awider spindle that will create greaterfriction between the fireboard andthe spindle. This helps to dry thewood and thus the fibers that fallinto the notch. The spindle can betaken from a dead branch with thedesired diameter or split from a logand carved round. Both endsshould be shallowly tapered.

Make the spindle from the samewood as the fireboard or from woodof a similar hardness. This appara-tus can be made from pocket sizeto something requiring four peopleto operate. Materials used are key,so note your observations as youpractice. The description belowuses a size I have found to beeasiest.

Making the FireboardLength here is not as important asthe width. A piece of wood that isnine inches by three or four incheswill work well. Make the thicknessof the board about one inch, but nomore.

As with the spindle, split thewood from a log or take it from adead tree branch. A fireboard froma dead branch will likely be nar-rower than three inches in diameterand should therefore be splitlengthwise to create a flat bottomfor the fireboard.

If you are using rocks to makeyour apparatus, you will need tocrush the branch with a larger stone


and use the sharp edge of a rock toabrade your notch when ready.

Making the HandholdThe handhold should be comfort-able in your left hand if you areright-handed (in your right hand ifyou are left-handed), and the holefor the spindle should be directlybelow the center of your palm.CAUTION: If the circumference ofthe handhold is too small, your fin-gers may touch the spindle and suf-fer burns.

The key feature of a handhold isthat the socket is deep enough tohold the spindle well, yet not sodeep as to create more frictionwhen the spindle sides contact thesocket wall.

Making the BowThe bow should be about waistheight with a very slight curve. Abow with some flexibility is prefer-able but not necessary. Keep thebow light, because a heavy bow willrequire more energy to move backand forth. A diameter of the sizebetween a nickel and a quarterworks well. One end should fit com-fortably in your dominant hand.Notch the bow ends to help holdthe cordage in place.

Making the String or CordageSee “Cordage” for instructions(page 198). Tie the cordage to bothends of the bow, being careful notto make it tight. Exactly how much

The spindle tip should be shallow

good too steep

slack is required will depend uponthe diameter of the spindle.

HOW TO USE A BOW AND DRILLMarking the Socket Location inthe Fireboard and Handhold1. Place the spindle on top of the

fireboard flush with either longedge.

2. Roll the spindle toward the centerof the fireboard a quarter inchand stand it up on point.

3. With your hand, twist the spindleback and forth, creating a smalldent in the fireboard.


4. With the handhold end of thespindle, make a small dent in themiddle of the handhold asdescribed above.

Stringing the Spindle 1. Place one end of the bow under

your right armpit, with the rest ofthe bow out in front of you.

2. With the spindle in your righthand, place it across the cordage(Figure A).

3. Using both hands, swoop underand around the cordage with theend of the spindle (Figure B).

4. Force the spindle to a perpendi-cular position with the cordage

Finding and making the socket location

Stringing the spindle

A BC

(Figure C). Hold the cordage andspindle firmly, because the spin-dle is held under tension andcould fly out. Note: If the cordageis too tight (you can’t completeFigure C) or too loose after youcomplete Figure C, then adjustthe cordage and try again.

Burning In

1. Place the fireboard on theground, keeping the small holethat you started on the right end.

2. With the ball of your left footresting on the fireboard to the leftof the hole, drop down to yourright knee and place the spindletip into the hole in the fireboard.

3. While you continue to hold thespindle to prevent it from beingflung out by the cordage, placethe handhold on the top so thatthe point of the spindle rests inthe handhold starter hole. At thistime, you should be resting yourchest on your left knee while youbring your left wrist against yourshin and exert downward pres-sure on the handhold.

4. Grasp the end of the bow in yourright hand and begin moving itback and forth so that the spindlerotates.

In all likelihood, the spindle willpop out with annoying frequencyand the cordage will ride up anddown the spindle and come off.This is due to a lack of form andoccurs when the spindle is not


kept perpendicular to the cordageor the handhold. Really “lock yourhand in” by pulling your wristjoint back against your shin sothat both your hand and arm arestabilized. This will keep the spin-dle perpendicular to the fireboardand handhold.

Giving even, level bow strokeswill keep the cordage in the cen-ter of the spindle. There is a trickfor helping with this process: Onthe back stroke, when your bowhand is passing your right knee,try to drive the back end of thebow into the ground a foot or sobehind your knee. Pay attentionto the effect this has on your bowwrist. Do the opposite on theforestroke. By using full bowstrokes (i.e., all the string, notsix-inch strokes) and by addingmore or less downward pressurein the handhold, you will produceenough friction to cause thesockets to smoke. As you playwith the speed of the strokes,more or less smoke will be gen-erated. This “burning in” processis generally done until the sock-ets have the same diameter asthe spindle.

Note: Carving a cordage groove inthe midpoint of the spindle will notaid your efforts; in fact, it will ham-per them greatly.

Lubricating the HandholdThe handhold socket is now ready

for some lubricant. Conifer needleswork beautifully, as does conifersap. You can also use animal fat.

1. Put a few pine needles or animalfat in the socket and forcefullytwist the spindle end in thesocket, smashing and smearingthe needles or other materialaround.

2. Once you have lubricated thehandhold, mark your spindle sothat you can tell which end goesin the handhold. If the lubricatedend is used in the fireboard, itmay be difficult to start a fire.

Other Types of HandholdsA handhold made of pine often doesnot need to be lubricated, because ithas residual pitch still in the wood.In areas that have no conifers, abone or stone handhold works well,although it may take more prepara-tion if you cannot find one with apocket for the spindle end.

Carving the NotchTo carve your notch in the fire-board, look at the burned-in socketand imagine it as a whole pie. Yournotch should be no greater thanone eighth of the pie. It is important


that it be wedge shaped and cleanon the sides. It should go into butnot include the center of the socket.

Making a CoalNow you are ready to create a coal.Tinder (see “Tipi Fires,” page 116)can be placed either under the fire-board and notch or set aside, and awood chip or leaf can be placedunder the notch to catch the coal.

1. Begin with smooth, even strokesand watch the dust build up in thenotch. Light brown or white dustmeans that you are not usingenough speed. Coarse browndust means that you need to useless handhold pressure. No dustat all and loud squeaking indicatea crack in your spindle tip and/orfire hardening, a process that pol-ishes the spindle tip and fireboardsocket to a mirror shine. If thishappens, you need to greatlyincrease your speed and pressurein order to burn through the shinylayer, or you need to rough up theaffected surfaces. Your goal is to create fine dark brown or black dust.

2. When the notch is full and a lotof smoke is coming from the fire-board, add ten good strokes to“pack” the coal. These packingstrokes ensure that the coal hasenough material to feed on as it grows.

3. Stop your bow strokes and gentlyremove the spindle from the fire-Notch (as viewed from above)

socket

fireboard

board. A wisp of smoke shouldbe rising from the dust in thewedge.

4. Place a twig or the back of yourknife blade gently on the dust,and hold it there.

5. Roll the fireboard away from thedust, leaving the coal in the open.If the smoke is weak, leave italone for a minute or so, becausethe coal may grow.

From Coal To Fire

1. Gently deposit the coal into yourprepared tinder bundle, and foldthe tinder over it. It is a goodidea to let the coal heat up thetinder a little before you give afew long, soft breaths into thebundle. Holding the tinder up tothe sky is another good idea. Notonly is it a great way to givethanks, but it also prevents thecoal from burning a hole out ofthe back of your bundle anddropping to the ground, and it keeps the smoke out of your face.

2. When the smoke builds to a goodbillowing cloud, you can put it in


your tipi fire and blow it intoflame then, or you can do so inyour hand and quickly transfer itto the fire.

3. Once the bundle is in place, youmay need to give it a few breathsto really get it going.

Work through the frustrations.Sometimes it is a good idea to takea break and set the bow and drillaside for a few days before going atit again. Good luck.

Removing the coal from the fireboard

frozen in midstep, about twenty feet from a suspicious cotton-tail. The animal had stopped feeding, and was sitting up andwaiting. If I moved, potential dinner would bound off at incred-ible speed and I’d begin the process again somewhere else.

I could feel the bite of the mosquitoes—not one insect, butprobably ten biting at a time. As they pulled blood, there was asubtle burn that lasted and lasted. Having my throwing stickcocked to fire allowed me an easy view of my forearm, where Iwatched the mosquitoes jerk their heads and pull out. Theywould lumber off slowly, leaving a drop of blood on the skin asa marker of where they had been. I still couldn’t decide whatwas the greater distraction—the physical burn of the bite,which wasn’t really so bad, or the mental torture that I was con-tributing blood to females for reproduction. I was aiding incontinuing the enormous mosquito population on this hill!

Now couple the mosquitoes with gnats. The burn of mos-quitoes was tolerable—the mental torture a challenge—but thegnats were my nemesis. Twenty to thirty gnats surrounded myhead, taking turns on kamikaze flights into my eyes and ears.On a few occasions they switched to flying up my nose, but thetrends were short-lived.

So there I was, in the field, mosquitoes biting, gnats divebombing, cottontail watching. The first time I lost concentra-tion, a gnat flew with such precision, it struck my inner earwithout having to crawl. Squinting protected my eyes a bit, butthe gnats soon learned they could land on my cheeks, crawl up,and find entry. A few gnats in the eyes and my defensive move-ments sent the cottontail fleeing.

The second stalk was better, or worse, since it was longer. Icompleted a full-body itch before beginning my second stalk. Iheld both rabbit sticks up this time, one on either side of my headin an attempt to deflect any direct inner-ear penetration. Slowly,I moved forward, squinting for eye protection. Progressing, pro-gressing, almost to firing range.. . . My legs were burning from



hordes of biting and bloodsucking insects. Oops, gnat in the eye.I was off-balance. The cottontail never looked back.

Day 24

Last night the temperature really dropped, and I had the bestsleep I’ve experience in a while. I slept longer than usual; I neededit. It seemed I’d been becoming a bit more tired each day. It’simportant to sleep well. For me, cool nights are the prescription.

I believe I’ve decided to take a solo—a vision quest, if youwill. So much of this experience so far has been physical. Somany skills and projects needed to be done to reach the placewhere we are now. Of course, there are many more I’d like to do.But I’d prefer to spend more time gaining a deeper understand-ing of my connection to this place.

My body seems to have achieved some sort of balance. I’mnever starving anymore except for an occasional growl. Smallamounts of food are sustaining. I can operate all day on a smallmeal and trailside graze. What a contrast to what I pack awayin society.

I am also feeling a greater sense of food security. As a group,Mike, David, and I know many plants, and there are always afew handfuls of berries to be found. The bulrush seeds are fill-ing and we have gathered a large quantity. Fishing also seems tobe a fairly sure thing. We continue to hunt so that we can learnand diversify our diet. Do we still crave pizza, vegetable lasagna,spanikopita, chocolate chip cookies, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream,and so forth? Of course we do.

Whenever I go without food for a short time or go with lessfood diversity, I dream of a meal prepared by Sonny Noto’s, arestaurant in East Boston. I crave a massive portion of theirchicken ziti broccoli served with a doorstep of bread and butter.I doubt I could finish a plate now, but I’d like to try.

I realize there is a great deal about this experience that Idon’t write down; I leave so much out. The animal tracks andsigns, the birdsongs, the sunsets, the cloud formations, and the


wildflowers are all constantly overloading my senses. The list is endless.

Just this morning, and on countless mornings before, a red-tailed hawk circled over our camp. Just skimming the treetops,she caught the updraft, circling higher and higher. Today, withthe sun directly above, light filtered through her rusty tail andilluminated her creamy chest.The light emphasized the darkband of feathers across herchest, which birders use toidentify red-tails at a distance.She was absolutely beautiful.

I’m reminded of an earlierhunt. We were exploring to thenorth of camp, setting snares.Mike carried his newly made bow and arrow, but I had opted toleave my throwing sticks behind and instead carried cordage toset new snares.

While I identified cottontail and woodchuck runs through ahedgerow, Mike moved up the drainage to a small pond. Heyelled to gain my attention and gestured to come quickly. He thenyelled for me to grab a few throwing sticks. Unfortunately, I wasin a hedgerow between two fields. One massive hickory tree laybetween Mike and me. I grabbed the only two pieces of wood notentangled in poison ivy and ran toward Mike. They were gnarly,light, stubby things, which I only hoped would do the job.

As I approached Mike, he made the signs for bird andmany. Then he pointed to the pond, and I knew they weregeese. Mike circled to the right, and I knew I was to circle to theleft. When you move slowly, really aware of your environment,with another person, a silent communication develops. Just as Icrawled to the rise, I watched Mike flush the geese on the farside of the pond. The birds fled and took off, flying low over thepond in my direction. I stood up as the birds flew past.

Later Mike told me he wasn’t exactly sure where I was atthat moment, and that I appeared like an apparition fromprimitive days, throwing sticks cocked in the midday sun. The


hunt, without maintaining visual contact, had been executedabsolutely perfectly.

Of course, the hunt was perfect until at point-blank range Ireleased my throwing sticks and somehow missed every goose.

I hunted in the afternoon. I watched a doe feed to the north.Her elegant neck alternated between periods of grazing andperiods of looking for predators. Deer spend as much timeassessing the area for potential danger as they do eating. The lifeof the hunted is so different from that of the hunter. Yet, thelives of the hunted and the hunter are intrinsically connected.In terms of evolution, prey are shaped by the predator, and viceversa. Hunters and hunted evolve together. This beautiful doe isthe result of pursuit by our human ancestors, cougars, andwolves. The form of our human bodies is a result of our hunt-ing hoofed animals for generations too many to count. It isamazing to ponder such a relationship and to track our veryform to the animals we hunted through the millennia.

Modern people have lost the edge kept by deer and otherprey animals. We have eradicated all potential threats to our-selves, except in a few remote areas where people rarely visit ordo so only from within the protection of their cars. We havebecome the top of the food chain and can now wander aboutwithout worrying about what’s around the next corner.Subsequently, our intuitions and instincts have faded away.

Myself, I have never felt more alive than when I am walkingin grizzly country or after hearing the scream of a nearbymountain lion. Every sound becomes distinct and crisp, everycolor sharp—an adrenaline rush of sorts. I suppose that’s whyextreme sports are so popular. They are an outlet for the dis-placed, intuitive warrior that evolved over thousands of years;we can’t rid ourselves completely of our accumulated knowl-edge in a few centuries of agriculture and technology.

In woods where large predators roam, you develop a certainawareness. You turn at every cracking twig and feel around everycorner with gut intuition. I remember my feelings when I wastwenty-three yards from a grizzly bear in Glacier National Park. I


was part of a team completing the bear sign survey for theNational Park Service. We worked in groups of four, because fourpeople together have never been mauled by a grizzly (as of yet).

We were just getting started after a long lunch break whena grizzly stepped onto the trail. I had never been this close to agrizzly. The bear was massive—larger than life. I found myselfmoving slowly backward without thinking about it and feelingmy heart pound at the base of my throat.

I studied his bristling guard hairs, which gleamed as theydanced in the breeze. His eyes held a certain self-assuredness pres-ent only in animals of immense power. His muscles were bulging,visible under his thick coat. His claws were so long they were clearlyvisible from our distance. He stared at us a long time. Who knowswhat went through his mind, but he decided to run. Off he went,with shocking speed, crashing through the brushy understory.

We soon discovered he had just killed a black bear andcached it immediately below the trail. He had ripped the backof the bear completely off. The organs hadn’t been finished yet,the kill was so fresh. We all stared at each other, knowing thatbear would be back to reclaim his food cache. I photographedthe scene and we quickly evacuated the area.

The adrenaline produced by such encounters is impossible todescribe. We all shivered and mumbled excitedly for hours. Wesmiled for days. Woods where large predators roam should becherished, not feared. Environments in which you wonder what’saround the next bend bring us closer to true living than in tamedwoods. You live in the moment, aware of the surrounding detailsand the messages and signs left all over the landscape.

Here, in our tame woods, with no poisonous snakes ormountain lions, we are able to crash about without any worriesat all. And we miss so much along our journey.

A few black bears dared to wander into this valley. The statequickly returned them to where they were “supposed to be.” Isuppose for now that the fewer people/bear interactions thatoccur, the better, because these encounters only result in deadbears. We adapt our environment to fit our desires, regardless ofthe larger picture.


This reminds me once again of my work in Montana. Ourgroup met with a representative of the Blackfoot nation, whoseland borders the eastern side of Glacier National Park. He toldus how conservationist Doug Peacock and others had asked tobuy Blackfoot land to help protect the bears. The Blackfootpeople said “no,” and that they had given enough land away.

This representative of the Blackfoot people, however, hadan interesting suggestion to help protect the bears. He said weshould support Blackfoot children being taught in their nativetongue. He told us there was no word for “bear” in Blackfoot; itwas the same word as “brother.” In the Blackfoot language,bears were considered family and thus could not be hunted orpushed to extinction by creating small islands of suitable habi-tat. Rather, bears were embraced and supported as brethren. Asthis man left to go, he mentioned that if we were to get thechance to look into the eyes of a bear, we’d understand whybears were considered as brothers.

Several years later, I found myself sharing time with blackbears in New York’s Adirondacks, and the experience I had inMontana finally felt complete.

Several weeks before I arrived here, I attended an AmericanSign Language immersion program in New York. One evening,a staff member tore around the corner to tell us about a pair ofbears out front. The entire class went out to see wild bears.

A pair grazed in a small clearing next to the front parkinglot. As people encroached, the bears began to fade into darkspruce woods. Losing the opportunity to photograph further,people began to trickle away. The staff show was startingshortly. I, on the other hand, decided to follow the bears.

I was amazed how silently the pair moved. Their thick hairabsorbed the sounds of rubbing branches, and their padded,hairy feet rolled over the landscape, conforming to rises andridges. Even though I chose my steps carefully, I made farmore noise than they did as I attempted to catch up. Theyknew I was following and would stop occasionally to peerback at me. They pulled jack-in-the-pulpits, rolled about inthe ferns, and scraped the ground in areas to remove rootlets.


One bear alternated between rolling in ferns and watching mefor quite some time.

The bears disappeared into a wetland via a fallen log, wherecattails arched from either side to form a natural entrance. Thewater level was so low that it was not visible, but I chose to fol-low on the log to decrease the noise I was making. The malegrazed on cattails in the middle of the wetland. He crunchedand crunched, like dogs eat crabgrass. I moved closer and closeruntil about thirty feet of young cattails divided us. I had stud-ied bears for a long time and had experienced numerousencounters in the wild. I had learned to expect certainresponses as I approached. . . .

Suddenly, the female stood up to my left, about fifteen feetaway. She stood at my height, the cattails just mature enough sothat our heads cleared their leaves. Two heads floating in a seaof green: one bear, one human. The bear and I locked eyes. Ithought to myself, “Remember this forever”—her beautiful,broad, black head, her chocolate snout. A light breeze swayedher fur and she wiggled one ear. Her dark, ink black eyes mes-merized me. They had great depth; they were big black wellsswallowing me. . . . Her eyes told only of remarkable intelligenceand gentleness. It was magic, a perfect experience, every natu-ralist’s dream.

It seemed like forever that we looked into each other’s eyesbefore the male woofed and charged. I watched rustling cattailsapproach. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to be afraid.It was a false charge, of course; he veered around me. Both bears“woofed” and started walking to the far side of the wetland. Ihad encroached enough and walked back to camp absolutelyexhilarated by the experience.

I should mention that it is not advisable to lock eyes withany wild animal. This is often interpreted as an act of aggres-sion. I can only say that, in that moment, it was a decision ofheart, not of mind.

I stalked three deer in another area. I caught Mike stalkingin from the other direction, and so did the deer. They didn’tknow what or who he was. The young buck, spikes in velvet,


began a series of snorts, violent bursts of air that flared his nos-trils. Small stamps with the forelegs were added. Mike did notrespond, and the deer returned to grazing. They kept tabs onhim, though, which allowed me to creep closer. Eventually theycould stand the mysterious presence no longer and decided tomove on. The buck walked up to the cattle fence and boundedover it with an ease and fluidity only possible in an elegant,long-legged ungulate. Slowly, they moved away.

Tonight we decided to try for the honey again using a new,more technological approach. We’d had a long discussion aboutthe realities of honey extraction. With what we had in camp, wecould get the honey. Mike and I had knives sturdy enough to beused as chisels. We could also take the tree down with fire andstone tools. However, taking a beautiful and very large tree wasa complicated and energy-expensive endeavor, and then therewas the fact that the tree stood on someone’s private property.We abandoned these ideas quickly.

Personally, I felt too much energy would be wasted inextraction. But Mike had made up his mind. Rather than beatup our knives, he suggested retrieving a chisel and mallet fromthe outside world. I added that if he really wanted to bring in achisel and mallet, then he’d be stupid not to grab some protec-tive gear as well.

And that’s what we did. We all went down to an open fieldone night, and Mike and David crept off to borrow the neces-sary tools. I fell asleep watching stars and woke up when theyreturned. I wasn’t comfortable wandering streets at night; I pre-ferred not to return to town, and no doubt someone wouldthink we were stalkers if they spotted us.

We had learned on previous visits to the hive that honey-bees do not take to flight easily at night. We held a torch to findthe entrance completely hidden by a writhing mass of honey-bees crawling around and over each other. They buzzed theirwings constantly, which we hypothesized would keep the hivewarm. On many nights, we stood watching the wriggling massebb and flow, listening to the hum of thousands of wings work-


ing as one. We also learned that when we smoked the writhingmass with burning birch bark, the bees would retreat inward,leaving the entrance completely unprotected. It was at this stagewe were able to apply a “patch” of carved wood, which acted likea cork to keep the bees inside the hive.

Patch in place, Mike used a chisel and mallet to create ahand-sized hole in the back of the tree. The process took sometime, but he broke through eventually. We were ready, withsmoky birch bark blazing to protect us. Mike reached in andliberated a few handfuls of comb. Then we sat back to watch thebees’ response.

I cannot explain the flavor of wild raw honey after a periodof hunting and gathering. Most of the plants we eat have a bit-ter flavor; sweetness is absent. This honeycomb, oozing withraw honey, was incredibly sweet and rich in flavor. Also, what-ever flowers the bees had used to create this honey had endowedthe honey’s delicious flavor with an additional fruitiness. Wesat, leaning against hemlocks in the pitch black along somerocky ridge south of camp, tasting wild honey. It didn’t getmuch better than this.

We were exhausted and decided to investigate the bees’reaction to the new hole the next day. Would the bees abandonthe hive or patch the hole? Only time would tell. We tripped andstumbled our way back to camp, too tired to walk in any bal-anced manner.

Day 25

A pile of shit lay next to our spring this morning, just above ourdrinking hole. My choice of vocabulary reflects the true profan-ity of this act. I love that spring—dropping to hands and knees,looking at my reflection, pausing for thanksgiving, then drawingthe cool, fresh water into my mouth. I drink like a mountain lion,pausing to look around, muscles tensed in case I need to flee.

No more, though—at least not there. Stained toilet paper


blew along the banks of the tiny spring. The worst part was thata pit toilet stood within sight. I suppose some city camper couldnot stand the company of spiders.

The main entrance to the beehive did not display the usualdaylight bustle of activity. The new hole in the back side, how-ever, was a different story. The entire area was carpeted in bees.We took turns peering into the hole. They appeared to be mov-ing honey, patching comb, and doing other chores. Bees don’t sitback and complain about work to be done. They just get to it.

We smoked the bees a bit to see their response and to gain abetter understanding of what they were working on. Theyappeared to eat as they retreated. David later read that beekeep-ers believe smoke brings about a state where bees prepare to fleeby gorging on honey. Smoke also makes them more docile. Weliberated a few more pieces of comb and took turns watching thebees while standing on the log we had leaned against the tree.

Inside the hole, a funnel of bees and bits of comb hadformed. All of the bees were moving, which created psychedelicpatterns of writhing comb. The buzz of the creatures was con-tinuous. I could feel the energy of the hive and a physicalwarmth around the hole. The comb itself, freshly excavatedfrom the mighty pine, was warm to the touch. A winter wrenalighted in the area and sang its exuberant, long-winded songover and over again.

The comb itself was equally fantastic—hexagons of darkwax, sealed at the top. When squeezed, honey gushed out ontoour fingers. I now know why cultures around the world, sincethe beginning of time, have gone to any length to obtain thiswonderful flavor. Wild honey is such a treat.

The bees had obviously not abandoned their home. Wedecided to clean out what we could reach, then patch the hole.If the bees wanted to stay, why should they leave? We couldcarve a piece of wood to fit the hole and they could wax theseams for a perfect fit. It sounded like a plan. We’d see how itactually worked.

David left this morning after we inspected the bees andshould be back tomorrow evening. Mike and I were hungry and


decided to fish to ensure a large meal. We had a wonderful after-noon hand fishing and spearfishing.

There was a particular pool that will forever stand out fromthe rest. The trout hid under a massive root system. They weretoo far back to spear and too deep to reach with our hands. Theroot system was that of a multi-stemmed basswood tree. Thebank seemed to have given way, and the root system had col-lapsed downward, lying perpendicular to water. However, wenoticed a hole at one end of the root system, an entrance to thecave formed by bank and tree. Wiggling in, we encountered oneof those rare, absolutely astounding scenes of nature.

The walls of the cave did not allow in light from above, plusmy body plugged the entry. Thus, the only source of illumina-tion filtered in through the waters of the stream itself, whichformed a serene pool that covered the expanse of the cave floor.Ten trout sat motionless in the pool, their bodies bathed in lightas if they were in an aquarium. Their orange and brown spotswere accented against mottled silver and brown bodies. Theyoccasionally flicked fins to hold position, and their mouthsopened and closed to individual rhythms. The water was soclear, so light. There were no ripples; the pool was smooth asglass. The fish looked fake, gliding about. Of course, they werereal. It is just so rare to glimpse wild creatures this clearly—per-fect creations in their own environment.

I hoped to hand fish the largest of the crowd, although thiswas a bit tricky. In hand fishing you need something to pushand pin the fish against—a rock or tree trunk. Not here—justfish in a clear pool with a sandy bottom. The fish also had aclear view of my looming body and lengthy arms attached tothe tickling hands that touched them. Over and over I tickledthe fish, the gills just out of reach, my body inching deeper intothe chilly pool. It wasn’t long before most of my body wasunder water. I missed the first time, but the fish eventuallymeandered into arm’s reach again.

On the second try, I drove my fingers into the body—somehow punching through the flesh without the aid of thegills. Outside, Mike heard a muffled “Wahoo!” Then a wriggling


fourteen-inch trout appeared from the hole, followed by mysmiling face. What a feeling! To catch such a splendid creatureand feel its slick body wriggling in your hands cannot be fullyexpressed in words.

Each time I catch a trout, I find myself apologizing andhoping the fish will understand that I am learning. On one levelI’m happy to do this, but when will I shed the mental gymnas-tics? When will I accept the facts that I am an animal and thathunting is natural? Do I need to feel guilty participating in nat-ural cycles? I think not; I simply need to be respectful.

Each time I hold a trout, I also try to memorize every detailof its coloring and shape. A trout has seven fins. The two thatrun along the back, as well as on the upper half of the tail, arespotted like its body. The lower fins have leading edges that area brilliant white color. The upper body varies in color but isoften a glossy golden or brown. The coloration varies with tigerstriping of darker or lighter skin, which helps the fish blendeven more with the rocky streams. A trout’s sides are often yel-low to off-white, and underneath it is snow white. A mixture oflarge and small red to orange dots is splattered across its sides.Some brook trout are more speckled than others. Their gills area deep blood red color. Their teeth line hardened lips andtongue, all aiming backward. Their eyes are dark round circlessurrounded by off-white. And when you’re fishing, lookingdown through water, they appear brown, yellow, striped, oreven blue. They are the work of an artist.

We were thrilled to secure our meal.


Day 26

I spent a peaceful morning working on skills. Kayla visits thisevening. I was told by David, our “real-world” connection, tomeet her on Monday at 6:00 p.m. Hmm, a bit of a challenge. Hehelped me with the Monday part, but the 6:00 p.m. still posed aproblem. I estimated the level of sun and hoped.

Kayla and I met when we were teaching wilderness skills toyouths and adults at the same program where I met Mike andDavid. Side by side we worked together, and for three and a halfyears we shared a house. I thought I’d marry her for sure, yetrecent decisions we’d made seemed to be leading us apart.

Mike and I explored a ridge to the north in late morning.He wanted to show me what he thought was an old cottontailnest, where the young had been kept. Off we hiked, crossingroads, walking deer trails, and wandering through fields. Alongthe way, I caught a glimpse of a mud patch way off-trail. I knewin my gut that we’d find red fox tracks there. We meanderedover, and sure enough, we saw the most beautiful fox tracks ofthe summer so far. Every hair had registered, and the “bar,” orstrip of heel pad without hair, registered perfectly. We followedthe fox, discovering older trails along the way. When I slowdown and listen to myself, I’m often able to pick up things justbeyond the physical senses. Is this an inkling of what is possible,a glimpse of our human potential?

We finally found the cottontail nest, an excavated area atthe base of a tussock along the edge of a field. It was clearly anest, where the scentless young had remained protected undera mat of grasses and fur. The chamber was very small, about thesize of my hand, held as if I were gripping a ball. The entire nestwas lined with cottontail fur, which I’ve read the mother pullsfrom her belly. It was a wonderful find. We studied it for sometime, then meandered off to explore further.

We peered into an old well that appeared to be about six-teen feet deep. The well was constructed beautifully—a perfectcircle of slate slabs just wide enough to climb straight into theearth. The remains of an unlucky opossum floated below. We


imagined how many perfect skeletons must have been at thebottom of the well. We contemplated pumping or hauling waterout to discover and collect skeletal treasures. We’ll see. Rightnow, our energy is needed elsewhere.

We discovered the remains of a foundation and an appleorchard beyond. The apple orchard, abandoned and unkempt,was competing—and losing—to native species; the orchard nolonger produced fruit. The trail we hiked had been an old car-riage road. How land changes. The surrounding woods wereyoung and thick, but reforestation had reclaimed, and contin-ues to reclaim, much of this land. Our camp, tucked amonghemlocks and chestnut oaks high on a ridge, was sheep pasturea generation ago. The Northeast forests are nearly all young.How rare old-growth trees are across the country. Soon,remaining pockets will become too small to use as a referencefor how mature woods function.

The trees surrounding me were the same species as wouldhave been here 400 years ago, but the current trees are genet-ically different from their towering ancestors. The newer treeswill never grow as tall or live as long. Our “harvest the bestand biggest” mentality over many years is evident in theremaining genetic stock that surround us now: shorter andshorter-lived trees.

We had a powerful storm in the afternoon. Mike and I satin camp and thunder exploded just overhead. We looked ateach other wide-eyed and laughed nervously. Kayla arrivedsafely, having traveled directly from Yosemite National Park.She told stories of bears and raging streams of melted snow. Shesaid I’d lost weight. It was good to see her.

Day 27

I spent my morning rebuilding the woodchuck skull I hadcleaned. I became absolutely engrossed by the three-dimensionalpuzzle. When it was complete, we compared it with muskrat, cot-tontail, and squirrel skulls we had collected.


Our camp was discovered by an adventurous group of hik-ers armed with day packs and a desire to hike the steepestridges. Our ridge, which we thought would be our greatest pro-tection, attracted these extreme hikers. We heard them cominglong before their arrival. I diverted them around our camp, butthey could see our group shelter as they passed. The discoveryworried us somewhat, and we’ve begun to talk about moving.

Leah, David’s girlfriend, arrived in the evening to visit.Kayla too was still with us, so it was a full camp for an evening.

A gourmet cook, Leah felt she had to bring food when vis-iting another “household.” She had brought bread, a Mexicandish, and cake. She told us how long she had been cooking, andwithout any real twisting of our arms. . . . We couldn’t resist.

We began with bread topped with veggies, like a salsa. I wasthen passed a scoop of the main dish. It was a Mexican mix,topped with a cornbread-like crust. It was a sort of veggie shep-herd’s pie. Wow, the flavor! My serving seemed normal, by soci-ety’s standards, but I began to fill quickly. I plugged on, though,knowing my next such meal wouldn’t be for some time.

Then the food felt like lead in my stomach. I went from fullto completely, uncomfortably stuffed. I sunk lower and loweragainst my wooden backrest, feeling worse and worse. Peoplecontinued to eat, helping after helping, while I fought a tortur-ous stomach and urge to vomit.

I laid flat on the ground, unable to speak or think clearly.Conversations about intuitive successes, northern lights, andluminescent plankton floated about. Homemade bread and


chocolate cake were eaten. Can you imagine what everyonewould have thought if I’d been sick on the fire? Not much of athank-you to our guests.

I was unable to participate. All of my energy had turned todigesting this lump of Mexican food I’d deposited of my ownaccord. The flavor was delicious, and how I wanted to tastehomemade bread with butter, and chocolate cake, which werepassed over and about me. The uncomfortable stomachache andlooming threat of purging kept me from both. When I awoke thenext morning, feeling the food had at least partially digested, thecamp was still, and I’d missed my chance. Leah had left.

Day 28

We explored for new campsites and discussed options for amore invisible lifestyle. The group that had found us stillweighed heavily on our minds. We didn’t really have the driveto set up an entirely new camp. At least, I know I didn’t.

We decided to keep using our debris huts. We would takedown the group shelter and move our firepit and belongingsaway from camp. It should appear we had stopped using thearea and just left our debris huts.

With nightfall, we returned to extract honey from the hive.The bees were setting up to protect the hive from the cool night.Single strands of bees—chains of their bodies—spanned thelength of the hole. These strands were the start of a bee plug,which would seal the new hole with their bodies. Bees areremarkable. I look forward to researching them more when oursummer experience is over.

The honey extraction didn’t take long. The bees weresmoked with birch bark, and Mike enlarged the hole and beganto pull comb from the hive. It was an amazing picture. Thenight was dark and moonless. A circle of light was given off bya small fire at the base of a large pine on a ridge in the woods.The needles of hemlocks swayed and glimmered in the firelight.Mike stood on a fallen log, propped against the tree, up to his


armpit in beehive; great chunks of comb were held to the torchfor inspection. From our distance, we would occasionally seehoney drip from the comb, glistening in firelight. Unbelievable.We were gathering honey—wild honey.

Many bees died as we reached into the hive and tore outchunks of comb; our hands crushed their bodies. Guard beescaught their stingers in our clothing and in our hair and diedafter their stingers detached. Yet, we escaped with about thirtypounds of comb and hadn’t been stung once. The hive hadgiven so much. We wondered if the bees would move. If so, wewould investigate the hive completely. If not, we would install awood patch for them to begin reconstruction.

Kayla was still with us and split her time between wander-ing on her own and participating in our adventures. Seeing hercringe each time an animal died at our hands has made methink. Survival involves taking the lives of others every day.Killing. There are no buffers like those set up in society. Andparticipating in natural cycles brings about reflection. How dowe as humans fit into ecology? What’s our role in natural sys-tems? And how do we hold these roles in modern America?

Not all of living and wandering in nature is blossoms andhoney. Death is as natural a part of the life cycle as birth. “Killsites,” places where animals, birds, fish, or insects have beeneaten by others, are as numerous as any other animal sign in theforest. I remember spending considerable time one day mar-veling at a beautiful blue and green iridescent dragonfly withcoal black wings. It ate several equally stunning butterflies, andtheir wings floated down from the dragonfly’s perch and weretaken by the swirling rapids of the stream. Wings in kaleido-scopic color and pattern, wings you’d be afraid to touch in caseyou disturbed their beauty, surfed the currents until they werelost around a bend in the creek.

There have been times this summer when raw nature hasmade me cringe. David and I were exploring when I spotted ahouse cat playing with a meadow vole. I ran to intervene butarrived too late. The cat had just delivered a crippling blow. Thevole limped, dragging its hind legs as it wiggled under a few


blades of grass in a meager attempt to hide. The kindest thing Icould do was let the cat finish the job it had started. David saidhis cats break the legs of small mammals and then sit aroundand play with them—many times every day. How many cats areloose around our country? Millions.

Once, while Mike and I were hiking, we discovered a youngrobin on the ground. As we approached, it opened its mouthwide in anticipation of food we did not have. Something wasvery wrong. I peered down at the almost fully grown bird andwas startled to see it had no tail. Rather, a mass of wrigglingmaggots was slowly eating the bird alive from behind. Maggotskill and consume many young animals every year. Mike killedthe bird quickly while its mother sounded an alarm just over-head. The maggots would continue to feed.

As we become more aware of the natural cycles this sum-mer, I have realized how every part of our existence involvessacrificing the lives of others. In society, we are protected fromthis knowledge. And ignorance is bliss. David, Mike, and I killtrees for containers, food, and shelters. We harvest plants con-stantly, and we fish and hunt to feed ourselves. We tread oninsects and swat mosquitoes and deerflies. Moths kamikaze intoour fire every night. One night a frog leaped into the flames andwas cooked before we could save it.

I’ve read about one ancient culture that survived withouthunting, but they were very rare among a global history ofhunting and gathering societies, and lived in a particularly lushenvironment. When I look in the pond when there is no wind,I see the characteristics of an omnivore reflected back at me. Myeyes point straight forward, like the bobcat and coyote, provid-ing the depth of field that is essential for hunting. Prey animals,such as deer and cottontails, have eyes pointing to either side,which allows them to better catch any movement and thus anypotential threat. Human beings also have well-developedcanines, teeth that are able to rip and tear flesh, as well as molarsfor grinding meat and seeds.

In my early twenties, I worked hard for animal-rights cam-paigns. And for long periods, I was completely vegetarian. To


this day, I still refuse commercial red meat, although my reasonsfor doing so have changed. The politics of the beef industrysicken me. Cows feed on our public lands, displacing nativespecies, and are protected with public money through the U.S.Department of Agriculture’s Animal Damage Control program.Millions of predators are killed every year to protect cows andsheep pumped full of steroids and hormones. Millions of dol-lars subsidize the greatest destroyer of wilderness in the world.

Some people feel it’s better to eat plants than animals. Iattended university with a woman who refuses to eat “anythingwith a face.” Personally, my perspectives have shifted. Now, Ibelieve that planting vegetables in tight rows, harvesting themin the prime of their lives, and cooking them is equally as bru-tal as harvesting woodchucks or cows. Both are killed for ourbenefit. Yet neither killing plants nor animals is truly brutal, butnecessary. The brutality comes about in the method and atti-tude of the person or organization doing the harvesting.

Without the sacrifices of trees, fish, plants, and other diverseanimals, we would not be able to live. They have all given gener-ously this summer, and I have needed support from all of themto survive in these woods. Other than gratitude, what can I offerin return? Is reciprocity a component to healthy ecology?


Hunting ToolsMany tools have been used forsecuring game over the past tenthousand years, but a few of thehandheld weapons that we success-fully put to use include the rabbitstick, the thrusting spear, the throw-ing spear, and bolas.

THE “RABBIT STICK”The “rabbit stick,” quite simply, is aclub specifically for throwing. It isthe easiest of hunting tools toacquire and can be very effectivewith a bit of practice. Any solid stickof a weight that can be easily


thrown and that measures fromyour armpit to your wrist will suf-fice. This measurement is a generalrule. You must take into considera-tion that the shorter the stick, thefaster you can throw it, but themore accurate you must be. Alarger stick is more forgiving ofpoor aim but cannot be thrown asfast. Experiment and weigh thetradeoffs to find what works bestfor you.

The basic rabbit stick is abouttwo inches in diameter and has allits edges rounded. This helps cutdown on sound as it flies throughthe air and gives less warning toyour prey. Rounding the edgestakes little time either with a knifeor by abrading on a rough stone. (Alarge stationary rock works betterthan a small movable one.)

Rabbit Stick ModificationsA host of other modifications canbe made to improve the perform-ance of the rabbit stick. Theweighted rabbit stick is much like


the basic rabbit stick except thatone end is bulbous. When thrown,the stick spins. The bulbous endspins more slowly like a hub, andthe handle spins like a spoke. Thiscauses the end of the handle to spinmore rapidly than other parts of thestick, making it capable of deliver-ing a devastating blow to the target.This weapon is good for short dis-tances in fairly open sections ofwoods and meadows, as well as intall grass.

The boomerang, one of myfavorites, has a natural curve in itand is carved so that a cross sec-tion is elliptical or winglike (one-halfellipse). This weapon does notreturn, as is commonly thought, butflies faster and more silently, as wellas further and more flat, than anyother rabbit stick I have ever used.(Most objects move in an arc whenthrown, but due to the aerodynam-ics of the boomerang and its prox-imity to the ground, the arc isalmost nonexistent.) The best ter-rain for the boomerang is in open

Weighted rabbit stick

fields, using the sidearm throw forshort or longer distances asdescribed below.

Fire Hardening Your Rabbit StickOnce you have modified your rabbitstick by carving or abrading, it isimportant to camouflage the carvemarks to make it harder for the ani-mal to pick up the stick’s movementas it approaches. Camouflage ofwooden tools can be done by “firehardening,” which will also increasethe life span of your weapon. Thebest way to accomplish this is tothrust the rabbit stick into the sandclose to, but not in, the fire. If youget the weapon too close to the fire,the wood will burn; too far andnothing will happen. You want themoisture to be driven out and thewood to be lightly browned.Smooth wood tends to becomeshiny as a result of this process, soyou may want to scuff up suchareas to aid in camouflage. In theabsence of sand, the wood can be


held over the fire or just next to it,but you must closely monitor androtate it almost constantly or youmay char and weaken the weapon.

Throwing the Rabbit StickThrows can be made overhand,sidearm, and anywhere in between.Sidearm works well with theboomerang in open meadows orother areas where there is enoughspace between trees to allow forunhindered flight. Overhand works

Boomerang

Overhand throw

well in taller growth or in areaswhere there is little distancebetween trees.

The tricky part is preparing torelease your weapon. You cannotstalk your quarry and then, when inrange, rear back and hurl it. Youmust slowly position your body andthrowing stick into launch positionas you stalk.

For overhand throws, use yourwhole body—don’t try to “muscleit” with just your arm. Slowly bringyour stick and throwing arm backover your shoulder, and bend back-ward from your waist. Your body,now taut as a bow, is ready to con-tract, starting with your stomachmuscles and ending with your armand hand snapping forward like thecracking of a whip, hurling theweapon forward at your prey.

Sidearm throws are similar in thatyou use your whole body to launch


the stick. However, instead of bend-ing backward (if you are right-handed), place your stick behindyour neck and twist to the rightuntil your left hand and shoulderare pointing at your target. Then, ina single motion, whip your bodyaround, releasing the stick as yourthrowing hand comes to bear onthe target. Be wary of nearby treesand low branches. Also, be sure tostalk into a fully cocked position toavoid giving yourself away by cock-ing back right before the throw.

It is wise to carry more than oneweapon, as this allows you toimmediately make a follow-up strikeand ensure that the kill has beenmade. A stunned animal mayappear dead, and then, as youapproach, get up and hobble off tosafety where it may die from itswounds out of your reach. A case inpoint: While hunting one day, Istalked a woodchuck and threw myboomerang, laying the animal out. Iapproached quickly with my spearat the ready and with ten feet to gosaw the woodchuck get up and run.A good throw with my spearensured meat for the evening meal.

THRUSTING SPEARThe thrusting spear is designed tothrust directly into an animal with-out leaving your hands. Some ani-mals, like rabbits and other smallgame, are struck from above.Sidearm throw

Therefore, the spear must be able towithstand the force of being drivenseverely into the ground.

I prefer a stout sapling about fivefeet long for the shaft of the thrust-ing spear. It doesn’t need to bestraight, but the thin end should besharpened and fire hardened (see“Fire Hardening,” page159). I donot recommend using bone spear-heads for small game, because youwill likely stab through the animaland into the ground, breaking thetip that took such effort to create.For large game, a bone spearheadcan be affixed to the shaft asdescribed below.

THROWING SPEARThe throwing spear is used forhunting animals at distances up toapproximately fifteen feet.

Harvest a straight sapling about


six feet in length with a diameterless than one and one-half inches.Sharpen the thicker of the two endsand fire-harden the tip.

Make bone spearheads as wide orwider than the shaft of the spear orarrow on which they are mounted. I use leg bones from deer, elk, orother large animals for spear tips.Smashing the bone leaves manyshards of usable size that can becarved or abraded into the desiredshape. Make the tang (the part ofthe spearhead that is connected tothe shaft) as long as or longer thanthe tip, and flare it at the bottom.Bone can only be made so sharp; itis not a hard enough substance tocreate a razor-sharp edge. However,serrating the edge increases its abil-ity to cut and takes little time with agood abrading stone.

To insert a bone spearhead, wrapstrong cordage around the shaft

Bone spearheads

eight inches from the pointed tip.Split the tip down to the cordage.Insert the spearhead tang, and packaround it with pitch and ash (see“Working with Pitch,” page 68).Bind the head tightly with wetrawhide or sinew and let it dry.Once the hide has dried, slather thelashings with pitch and ash. Tomake a really solid seat for thespearhead, the inside of the split inthe upper end of the spear shaft canbe carved down to better accommo-date the tang.

How to Throw a SpearTo throw a spear, first find the pointin the middle of the shaft where thespear will balance if placed acrossan outstretched finger. Mark thebalance point with charcoal and setthe spear in your hand, with themark in the center of your palm.Close your fingers around it andraise it over your shoulder as ifpreparing to throw. Note where thetip of your index finger touches the


spear, and carve a shallow grooveall the way around the shaft. Everytime you pick up your spear, yourfingertip should be in that groove.

1. Start with a target about fifteenfeet away, and if you are using abone spearhead, be sure yourtarget and the area around it aresoft. The mechanics of throwingproperly are worth learning evenif the first few times you throwyou feel awkward.

2. Face your target with your leftarm out in front, pointing at thetarget.

3. Extend your right arm with thespear straight back, with thespearhead near your ear.

4. Shift your weight to your rightfoot as you lean back, and useyour left foot as a counterbal-ance.

The next step should be doneslowly a few times to ensure thatyou have the motion.

5. Keeping your eye on the target,begin moving the spear forward.As your hand moves toward thetarget, your elbow will move for-ward, too. During this movement,your elbow should point at thetarget and pass your shoulderbefore your hand does

6. As you release, follow through,with your index fingertip and thegroove being the last point ofcontact with the spear. Your

Spear tip ready for a bone point

throw should end with your fin-ger pointing at the target.

BOLASThe function of bolas is to hold preylong enough to allow you to approachand kill it with a thrusting spear orclub. Primary bola game is largebirds, such as turkey and geese, andlong-legged animals like deer.

From three to seven weights ofstone, wood, or leather pouchesfilled with sand are connected by


equal lengths (about three feet) ofcordage to another loop of cordage.When thrown, the weights fan outuntil one or more of the pieces ofcordage hits an object, allowing theweights to continue to swing for-ward and wrap around the wings,legs, or branches of your target.This tangles and often temporarilystops any forward motion.

Throwing the BolasContrary to popular belief, bolas arenot swung multiple times aroundyour head prior to their release.This would only alert your prey. Amore effective way is to start withyour right index and middle fingersin the loop at about shoulder height.Meanwhile, your left hand providestension on the cordage if you laceyour fingers through the cordageand rest them on the weights, pre-venting any tangling. When you arein position to throw, release withyour left hand while simultaneouslywhipping your right hand up andaround your head once and follow-ing through until your right hand ispointing at your target.

There are many weapons andvariations of each with which youcan hunt. Some require less workand less practice than others, butthe trade-off is that with less workcomes less range; i.e., if you pickup a throwing stick, you can huntimmediately but with little range. Ifyou take the time to make an effec-

A bola with sand-filled pouches

A carved wood bola weight

tive hunting bow and the arrows togo with it, and spend more timepracticing with your weapon, youcan hunt a variety of game at


greater distances. The upside ofthrowing sticks is that simple toolsare easy to replace.

direction of travel

1

1 2

tree

2 3

3

top view

side view

Bola striking a target

Hunting and harvesting can be performed in ways whichare both sustainable and contribute to natural communities.Each life I take shapes the larger ecological system and has thepotential to either hinder or foster the forest community. Wehave eaten woodchucks and deer to help balance their explod-ing populations. If two trees are physically competing for space,harvesting one stops both from dying in the long run.Removing another tree may bring light to four others. Whenyou approach hunting and harvesting in this way, you developa deeper relationship with the land. The land supports me and,in turn, I may caretake the land.

Hunting has a place within natural cycles. We recentlyexplored the valley south of camp at dusk and heard a piercing,rhythmic cry. We followed it to the source and discovered ayoung cottontail. The rabbit had torn open its underside on afierce hawthorn needle, and its innards hung from the sur-rounding twigs. We quickly moved away. Its call was not for itsmother but for one who would efficiently end the pain andreturn its life to the natural cycles of nutrients.

I have also discovered another benefit in taking the life ofan animal. When I hold its limp body and see up close thedestruction I have delivered, I feel a great obligation to do goodin my life, to be honest and true. When I eat a plant or an ani-mal, that life joins with mine. I want my grandchildren to havethe opportunity to choose experiences like I’ve had this sum-mer and to be able to witness natural cycles without veils ofplastic wrap and Styrofoam. Killing is real and necessary, andmodern society seems bent on creating an illusion in whichwe’ll all live some “happy” estranged existence.

David and I carried our honey loot as we filed out of the woodson an old logging road. We entered a field where deer silhou-ettes bounded around us, the sounds of their hooves echoingthrough the night.



An intense shooting star appeared to the north. It was sointense and large I thought it must have hit the earth. WereDavid and I the only ones to see that massive fiery ball with along trailing tail?

Day 29

We sorted through the honeycomb this morning, marveling atthe structural achievements of the bees. Most of the comb wasa mixture of honey, pollen, and young bees. Occasionally, a sec-tion would be uniformly one of the above. There were manyyoung bees; David had since done some research and told usthat the queen bee lays about 2,500 eggs a day.

We tried different methods for extracting the honey,including pounding and dripping, and cutting and dripping.We rigged a drip set to take advantage of the heat of the day.We’ll see what happens.

We all went fishing in the afternoon. Kayla speared her firstfish! Although she was excited, she struggled with the actualkilling of such a beautiful creature. Whether you hand fish orspearfish a trout, you must then hold it tightly, insert a thumbinto its mouth for leverage, feel its raspy breaths and sharpteeth, and quickly snap its neck backward until it breaks.

Mike and I spearfished as a team in one pool. I waded inwith the spear but the trout were beyond my field of vision.Mike crawled in behind a root system where he could see thefish. He directed me slowly. “Left a little. Now right. Deeper,lower. Okay, lunge!” Together, we pinned a massive trout to thewall of the pool. Mike grabbed it by the gills. This is communityliving; Mike and I work well together.

As the sun lowered to the west, we watched a pair of watersnakes swim upstream to the pool where we had just been fish-ing. They seemed more brash than usual; they often slip out ofsight with the approach of humans. Their dark bodies slitheredalong, fighting current, their heads just above water level, keep-ing an eye on us. The two of them slipped under the same rootsystem where Mike had directed my spear.


We heard splashing, and the pair appeared holding a nine-inch trout between them. The two danced downstream, thesmaller snake grasping the fish by the gills, and the larger snakeholding the tail. Twisting and turning, the pair moved in tan-dem carrying the fish above water, like a shimmering batonbetween two runners. Neither let go, as they hauled out onto agravel bar.

At first, the pair seemed to be working together, but snakesdon’t carry knives to split fish evenly. It soon became obviouswe were witnessing a tug-of-war match, and the smaller snakehad the better grasp. A third water snake came over to investi-gate, but, being the smallest of the three, it decided to move onto find food for itself. As the match continued, the smaller snakeattempted to maneuver toward the front in order to swallow thetrout whole. But to do this it needed to loosen its grasp. Thismay have been its greatest mistake, as the larger snake tore thefish away from the smaller snake and fell backward onto thegravel. Without further effort, the smaller snake abandoned thefish and glided downstream.

The fish flopped a bit, still alive. The winner held on tightlyto the fish’s tail. The water snake’s prehistoric fangs were anobvious advantage for hunting slippery trout. As the fish qui-eted, the snake moved to the front and began to swallow thetrout. We had learned from eating water snakes that the jaws arecreated by four separate bones that are connected by stretchyligaments and muscles. The mouth slowly stretched, and wewatched the head of the trout disappear. The enlarged head of


the snake repositioned with each surge of fish, which wentdeeper down its throat. There was no apparent rush, regardlessof our presence. With time, only the trout’s tail was visible, likea thick, massive snake tongue, and, of course, the bulge behindthe snake’s head.

The snake’s body undulated and muscles rippled from frontto rear, moving the fish further back into the snake’s stomach.With the fish about one third of the way along the length of thesnake, our water snake decided it was time to seek refuge fromnosy humans. It slipped into the water and awkwardly made itsway to a tussock, dragging itself across stones in shallow sectionsof the stream. Then it was gone. The snake was beginning a longrest to digest the meal. How long until it next needed to feed?

What a gift! We were able to witness the entire process. Wefished, the snake fished, the snake ate, and we climbed our hillto digest trout—although ours would be cooked. We wereactive participants in natural ecology. In fact, we seemed to beeating water-snake style, gorging every few days with light graz-ing in between.

Day 30

Kayla left early this morning. She was soaked in last night’sstorm and was still wet when she left. I retired to my debris hut,where by morning my body’s own heat had dried my clothesand spirit. I awoke to clear skies above the treetops and coolbreezes pushing through the holes in my door.


Just below camp, Mike and I discovered what appeared tobe a small town gathering of eastern newts. Eleven newts fedwithin several square feet of ground. Their brilliant orangebodies accented the forest floor among tiny maple seedlings.We watched them feed on insects, slowly climbing about abovethe forest debris. A few newts were in the transitional stage, inwhich they change from fluorescent orange “red efts” to olivecreatures with orange spots.

Our honey extraction setup yielded very little pure honey.The comb we had collected was composed primarily of youngbees, or brood comb. We were rather disappointed over theamount of honey and so decided to try to harvest the wax forcandles. Our first chunk of comb refused to melt. We discov-ered that most of the brood comb was not made of wax. Thecomb was formed from a papery substance, more like the stuffof wasp nests. We did manage to melt a small amount of waxthat seemed to hold honey rather than babies.

David’s research outside of the woods revealed some inter-esting facts about honeybees. People who have collected honeyclaim that the area below the entrance in wild hives is generallythe brood area. Our experience definitely supported thishypothesis. They also said that the honey stores were generallyabove the entrance. If this were true of our hive, we never evenreached the honey stores.

I hunted woodchucks and rabbits from afternoon untilsundown. Hunting always yields extraordinary experiences.Moving very slowly and really paying attention allowed me towitness what I would so often miss.

One particularly aware woodchuck stood to assess me thor-oughly. I froze in midstep and the seconds turned into minutes.On and on the woodchuck stared, but I held steadfast. Anotheranimal stalked to the edge of the field just several feet from mebut was concealed by a wall of goldenrods. Woodchuck or rab-bit? My mind raced. The animal must have sensed my busythoughts or caught wind of my odor, as it backed away ascautiously as it had approached. By now, the leg that was sup-porting me was burning. I began to shift my weight slowly


backward so that my weight could be shared by both legs. Iwaited a bit longer to see whether the animal would return tothe edge of the field in front of me and emerge from the gold-enrod. The first woodchuck had returned to grazing.

Grasses shook as another small creature approached. It wasmuch too small to be a cottontail this time. A meadow voleentered the meadow and meandered between tufts of grass to apatch of red clover. It stood assessing the clover, which wasexactly its height. Then the vole dropped down and cut eachclover stem at its base to harvest and eat it in its entirety.Forgetting woodchucks, I tuned in on the meadow vole. Iwatched it feed for quite some time, until the small patch ofclover was mowed clean. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, thevole worked its way back to the goldenrod and was gone. Anexperiential gem. Such is the payoff of hunting.

As the sun faded and I stood watching the clouds, the doe Iknew quite well entered the field. She used the same trails eachevening and always fed alone. I had thought about sittingpatiently and trying to touch her alongside that trail.

She eventually saw me and began to stalk closer to investi-gate. I stood still as she circled me, coming closer and closer.She snorted a bit and then, satisfied I was neither a threat norinteresting enough to pursue further, went about grazing. Islipped away. Before I entered the woods, I looked back at her.She was looking at me. I waved. She flicked her ears and wentback to feeding.

I met Mike on the ridge and we stood for awhile, enjoyingthe calls of screech owls.

Day 31

We’re practicing ancient skills on the edge of modern society. Ican hear the highway at night and farm noises in the day, and Iam constantly aware of other people in the woods. Sadly, I’dhave to walk many, many days before I could find a plot of landlarge enough to yield sufficient food upon which to survive


without crossing roads or seeing other people as I wandered.Our woodlands and our wilderness safe havens for our soulsand fellow creatures are all islands amidst an ocean of industryand sprawling suburbia.

Generally, Mike, David, and I stay invisible by avoidinghigh-use trails and hiding from random hikers and explorers. Itdoesn’t take much to disappear—just sitting several feet off-trail. Most people look down at the trail as they walk, becausethey don’t trust their own feet to carry them. It took me awhileto build confidence in my feet.

Occasionally, people talk to themselves as they stridethrough woods and fields, and I hear what is said. It’s com-pletely unintentional eavesdropping. I hear about stresses intheir lives or difficult decisions. Or sometimes it’s singing orrandom mumbling that I’m unable to follow at all. So manypeople come to the woods to release their troubles.

Most people move unnaturally in the forest. Without con-cerns for food, shelter, or tools, they usually have no need tomove slowly, or to see wildlife before the wildlife sees them. It isnot necessary to look carefully. People can blunder along,wrapped in their own thoughts, much like dogs that crashthrough the woods knowing that Kibbles and Bits and a warmhome await them.

Out of necessity and convenience, Mike, David, and I occa-sionally cross roads or follow short sections of pavement. Mikeand I were recently held up by a flurry of country drivers. Therewe stood, a sight to behold: scruffy, dirty, both of us in camou-flage pants, neither of us in shirts, and both armed with sticks.We studied people’s faces as they drove past. There was atremendous variation in response, but we found several patternsto hold true. There were those who didn’t believe what they wereseeing. Their eyes would become larger and larger, and theirmouths would open wider and wider as they approached andpassed. Then there were those who were completely disgustedand pushed to the far side of their seats while contorting theirfaces into ugly grimaces. They always accelerated as they passedus. There were also the confused drivers; their faces were blank


slates that reflected their mental breakdown—they generallyswerved. And then there were those people who were initiallydisgusted but were able to regain their regal, condescendingexpressions. To say the least, I felt neither welcome nor beautifulin their world of vehicles and deodorant. It all had to do withcamouflage. In the woods, Mike and I blended well. In society, adifferent sort of camouflage is needed to blend: clean jeans, but-ton-down shirt, and clean face and hands. Oh yeah—and wecouldn’t carry sticks. Well, maybe lumber.


CamouflageWhat does it take to move unseenthrough the land? Good camou-flage! What is good camouflage?Let me break it down. Camouflageis intended to break up the outlineof a person or object, because it isoften the outline that attracts theeye and is recognized by the brain.

Good camouflage has two verydistinct parts: physical and mental.The physical aspect of camouflagehas to do with the blurring orchanging of your outline and thedistinctive body patterns that catchthe eye, including the symmetry ofyour face or the series of parallellines that make up your hands. Themental aspect has to do with thequieting of the mind and going intofull-view vision in order to soften ordiffuse your intent. As children,many of us found out in Hide-and-

Go-Seek that intensely thinking“don’t see me” or “I know they aregoing to find me” drew the attentionof the seekers. Animals are far moresensitive in this area than humans.

Here you will be given pointersfor physical camouflage, with anexercise at the end for mentalcamouflage.

PHYSICAL CAMOUFLAGEMany types of camouflage are usedby people the world over, but two ofthe most effective that we usedwere mud and charcoal. With mud,you camouflage to a specific area.With charcoal, you camouflage toshadow. Moving within shadowtakes practice, as it often requiresmovement off-trail through thickand potentially noisy debris. You


have to learn to trust your camou-flage. Anyone can hide behind anobject. The goal here is to be invisi-ble while in the open.

Mud CamouflageMud camouflage is especially usefulwhen you are not moving at all, orwhen you seldom move, as in thecase of an ambush for game. Somepros of mud are its ability to


decrease your scent, the non skin-like texture it gives your body, andthe natural dappling it provides as itdries.

The cons are the potential forleaving a trail of mud smudges onleaves and the ground as you walk,and its lack of versatility; i.e., thetype of mud you use—gray clay, forexample—may be perfect camou-flage for a streambed but will stick

Mud camouflage is very effective; here only the hand and fingers arediscernible.

out clearly in the forest.In a moist area or near water, you

can make mud by pouring wateronto the ground and digging in itwith your hands or a stick. Onceyou have an adequate supply ofmud, follow the two steps below toapply full mud camouflage. Take thetime to see how the mud colorcompares to that of the area inwhich you plan to hide. Andremember, mud changes color as itdries.

1. Liberally apply mud to your entirebody while being careful not toget it into your inner ears oreyes. The consistency should besuch that it sticks easily and doesnot readily run or fall off.

2. Pick up handfuls of dry debrisand, with your eyes closed, gen-tly toss them over your wholebody. They should stick to themud and provide a further break-ing up of your outline.

Now you are ready to get to yourhiding spot. A few points are worthyof note.

• Move carefully, because plantsbrushing you will give away yourpassage by way of mud on theleaves.

• Too much movement will result inmuch of your camouflage fallingoff.

• As you move, you generate heatand thus dry the mud faster.


Therefore, depending on whatcolor the mud is when it is dry, itmay require you to shift your hid-ing spot.

• Bring an extra handful of mudwith which to cover the soles ofyour feet once you are in positionor for touchup.

• Mud quickly cools the body. Evenon warm days, a spot in the shadecan quickly lead to shivering.

• If you have glasses, you can dipthem in mud, then clean a line inthe center of each lens to allowyou to see with little reflectivematerial exposed. Warning: Yourglasses may sustain scratches.

Charcoal CamouflageBy far the warmer of the two cam-ouflage techniques covered here,charcoal camouflage is also betterfor times when movement isrequired. The pros of charcoal arethat it is dry and therefore warmerthan mud, it does not brush off eas-ily or leave obvious signs of yourpassage, it can be applied to blendwith almost anything, and it is eas-ily acquired. The cons are that it isharder to remove and can only beapplied effectively to skin or light-colored clothing.

You can grind up charcoal from awood fire and apply it as a powder,or with water, added as a paste.(White ash, not charcoal, whenmixed with water makes lye, analkali that will cause burns if it con-tacts your skin.)

Because your goal is to break upthe outline of your body and thesymmetry that easily defines partsof you, as a general rule it is best tolighten the hollows and darken theridges. This does not mean that youshould put a black line across yourbrow and down your nose. Markyour body with charcoal lines thatrun contrary to your body’s naturalcontours. Soften the lines by gentlyrubbing your hands over them,smudging them. This softens theedges, dulls the sheen on your skin,and gives a dappled effect. Finally,dust and small debris can be sprin-kled over your body. This may seeminsignificant, as it does not appearto make much difference; however,your body’s tiny hairs hold ontosome of this debris and can helpblend you with the background.


MENTAL CAMOUFLAGEEXERCISESitting in the woods leaning againsta tree or rock, or perhaps not lean-ing on anything at all, imagine yourbody growing into whatever it is incontact with. At the same time,imagine that whatever you are sit-ting on or leaning against is grow-ing into you. Feel roots growingdownward into the ground and barkcreeping up and covering yourbody. Melt into the landscape.Maintain full-view vision, stretchyour consciousness outward, andsimply relax into your surroundings.Maintain this consciousness evenwhen approached by animals andsee what happens. Practice withbirds first by having a friend sprin-kle birdseed on you. Good luck, andlong patience.

Can you spot the person in this photo?

Anyway, the goal of this ramble is to report that Mike hadasked the local camp residents if they would like to visit us andsee for themselves what we were doing in the woods. Word ofour encampment might have spread after our camp’s discovery,and Mike felt that an invitation was a more proactive strategythan running away or allowing the local community to seek usout with questions, concerns, and potential misunderstandings.Our invitation was accepted, and a group of exuberant youngboys and several staff were led up the steep ridge to our home.We showed them our debris huts, hunting weapons, canteens,cooking pots, cordage, fish hooks, and more. I told a storyabout fire, and Mike demonstrated the bow and drill. It wentsmoothly.

The counselors claimed the group had never been so atten-tive. It was easy. We were but a bridge to the fascinating world ofnature; the woods did all the work. And it felt good to share whatwe were learning with others. It was reciprocity of sorts and agiving back to the cycles that sustain us all. Idealistic? Yes. I’maware this may be my mind creating a scenario so that I can feelgood about myself. I realize that the earth may be so powerful itdoes not need my help at all. Yet, I still choose to try to better ourworld. Perhaps this is optimism, rather than idealism.

This afternoon, I was overcome with the urge to make bas-kets, to work my hands. Until now, I have focused on skills thathave utilitarian value for survival, such as cooking, hunting, andmaking containers for carrying water and collecting berries. Ineeded a break from function and therefore spent today onform. Function, of course, accompanies form, but these basketswere made for the pleasure of form rather than strictly for func-tion. I worked as an artist rather than as a survivalist.

There is meditation in working with your hands, as well asworking in art. I dug rootlets of hemlock and oak and felt theearth as I worked my fingers and forearms. I wove the rootletstogether, enjoying the visual progression as much as the



finished basket. While the hands work and the mind focuses onform, random mental gibberish, which so often clouds clarity,fades away. Art is a mantra, as effective as any.


BasketsBaskets are useful for a variety oftasks, such as carrying firewood,catching fish, storing foods, andholding fruits, seeds, and water.Many materials are available tomake baskets of all shapes andfunctions. They can be loosely ortightly woven, rigid, or pliable.Loosely woven baskets can be linedwith grass, leaves, or hides so thatsmall objects can be carried withoutthe risk of loss through the holes.Skins can be draped in the basketfor rock boiling or carrying water.There are more basket types,weaves, shapes, and materials thanI can cover, but here are a few basicbaskets that can be adapted formany uses.

BASIC ROOTLET BASKETAny pine, oak, or hemlock tree hasmany fine roots just below the sur-face of the soil. The rootlets arevery flexible, making for easy weav-ing. The real bonus is that after aday or two, they dry and stiffen up,and the basket becomes fairly rigid.

1. By carefully working your handinto the dirt, you will find in thefirst half inch or so of soil, rootsas thick as sturdy shoelaces.These can be dug and pulled upin three-foot lengths (or more),and when a quantity has beencollected, the weaving can begin.Anytime rootlets are exposed, asin the case of storm-blown trees,make a point of collecting asupply.

2. Lay three, two-foot-long rootletsparallel on the ground and threemore perpendicular to and on topof the first three at their mid-points. This spot is called the“hub,” and the rootlets are calledthe “warps” or the spokes. Thewarps will be woven around by“woofs” of the same material.


3. This is the hardest part of makingthis basket. Lay a rootlet underthe bottom set of three warps.Moving clockwise around thehub, weave the woof over the topset of three and under the bottomset of three for two complete cir-cuits. This will hold the warpstogether for the next step. Add inan additional warp by weaving itinto the newly placed woof sothere are thirteen warps radiatingout from the hub. An odd num-ber is required so that the wooffalls first on one side of the warp,and in the next circuit it falls onthe other side.


woof. Bend each warp over to theright and insert it into the woofalongside the neighboring warp.

4. From here, it is just a matter ofweaving around the hub by goingover one warp and under the nextwith the woof. When a woof runsout, simply add another, makingsure it overlaps for a few warps.

5. To finish off, stop weaving whenabout one and one-half inches ofthe warps are visible above the

BARK BASKETSThe beauty of bark is that it foldslike paper when it is fresh, thenhardens as it dries. Birch, tulippoplar, cedar, white pine, and elmare some of the best barks of whichI am aware. (See “CookingContainers,” page 111, for tips onharvesting.) A fairly quick and func-tional bark basket is the “one-piece”or “single-fold” basket.

Step OneLay out a piece of bark, cambiumside (inside) up. The dimensions

are not important, but for the sakeof clarity, I will use a piece teninches wide by twenty inches longwith the grain running along thetwenty-inch axis. Draw a line acrossthe center of the piece. The linemarks the center of an ellipse, withthe points ending just shy of theedges, as shown in the illustration.


Step ThreeFold the bark on either side of theellipse upward, allowing one pieceto overlap the other by an inch.

The wider you make the ellipse, therounder the basket will be.

Step TwoScore along the ellipse line no morethan one third of the way throughthe bark. Note: Baskets have beenmade with score marks on the out-side when using bark that is morerigid, as in the case of rougher pinebark and elm. Additionally, withmore pliable barks, I often will notscore the bark at all, as it seems tobend into the desired shape withoutthe risk of compromising the fibers.

Step FourHoles for stitching must be drilledor burned with either a hand orbow drill (either can be fitted witha bone or stone tip for boringthrough, or you can simply use athin, tipped spindle to burnthrough; see “Fire Making,” page132). Making holes with an awlwill often create a split. The place-ment of the holes depends onhow you want to stitch the bas-ket. Parallel holes, an inch fromeach edge, allow for a number ofstitch patterns.

The rim piece is important inpreventing splits from the topduring regular use. Bore holes aninch from the top around thewhole edge. Tie a knot or twig tothe end of your stitching material


(cordage, rootlets, sinew, etc.) tokeep it from passing through theholes. Run your cordage from theinside out; come over the rim pieceand top edge back into the basketand through the next hole. Continueuntil you have gone through the lasthole. Then, with the aid of a thin,blunt awl, push the cordage throughthe next hole from the outside in,and tie off.

Step FiveAdding a strap makes this basketfar more useful. This can be doneby threading a thong or cordagethrough the existing stitching on thesides and tying off.

I stopped weaving to watch the debris about me ridgeupward and move, like earth above a mole. I looked up to inves-tigate the sounds, which were different from the sounds madeby daddy longlegs spiders, which I’ve come to know very wellthis summer. I hear daddy longlegs all over the forest.

Any distraction by wildlife is fine with me. I watched theridging debris, waiting for a glimpse of the creature below. I fol-lowed and followed, listening to jaws crunching, as the leaf lit-ter rested. In time, a head wriggled free of the debris to assessthe world about. A moment’s glimpse and the short-tailedshrew withdrew back into the debris tunnel network to feedupon insects it had encountered.

I completed two baskets and have two more designs inmind. I felt refreshed and content. With my hands and spirit fedwith art, I turned to fields to feed my stomach. Dewberries were


exploding all over and I grazed on sorrels, plantains, clovers,and wild carrots.

A massive beetle as big as my thumb distracted me fromjournal writing. It crinkled leaves in a way I didn’t recognize.These were not the sounds of daddy longlegs, small mammals,or feeding birds. David and I followed the beetle and watchedher lay eggs periodically in the duff, just below the winter-fallenoak leaves. A thin tube projected from her abdomen into theground, propping her body forward so much that her rear legsstuck straight out, parallel to the ground. Her body rose andfell—a very sexual movement that might have correspondedwith the release of eggs.


Day 32

Leaning against my debris hut early this morning, I watched afemale hairy woodpecker. She hunted along branches of achestnut oak, hopping backward while clinging upside down.This was amazing enough, but it was her liftoff that struck meeven more. She let go and dropped like an arrow. Straight downshe fell, wings tucked, completely aerodynamic. Just aboveground, she opened her wings and toes for a perfect landing onthe base of the trunk. She made a twenty-five-foot free fall

before she spread her wings. It seemed a fun way to fly, and thegrace of the landing was indescribable.

I set snares and wandered about during the morning. Oneof my new basket designs flopped and needs to be rethought. Ihunted during the afternoon and evening. At one point, I wasstalking a woodchuck while two deer were following me.Everything in nature moves in circles.

We hand fished for dinner. Our presence in one pool saveda green heron from the pursuing claws of a goshawk. Just aboutto be caught, the screeching heron plunged into the water rightin front of Mike and me, and the goshawk veered upward,abandoning its attack. The heron swam about, neck extended,feathers ruffled, and for all purposes looked just like a grebe. Itscreamed and screamed, even though the goshawk had quicklydisappeared downstream. When it regained composure, theheron flew away in the direction from which it had come.

The screech owls have spent their last few evenings around ourfire circle. Tonight, the nearest owl and I called back and forth.I’d like to think we were communicating, that I was successfullyproducing screech-owl babble.

It’s odd that humans claim animals are unintelligent justbecause they are unable to grasp and fluently produce a humanlanguage, such as English or American Sign Language. I haveheard of no humans in modern societies who fluently commu-nicate with an animal species in its own tongue. Have our egosinfluenced the creation of rules that govern languages to pur-posefully exclude animals?

Day 33

“Track Road” is an old 4x4 road that supports occasional farmequipment and holds excellent mud puddles. This morning’smud yielded a beautiful jumping mouse trail.

I cannot yet differentiate between the tracks of meadowand woodland jumping mice. I say “yet,” for I feel that with a


little research, a difference may emerge. The trail was a typicalmix of patterns left by various bounds. Short bounds indicatedthe mouse was in no real hurry, although the animal did notfeel safe enough to walk and explore the open road.

The tracks held tremendous detail. I stared at them, lyingflat, protecting my track treasures from the hot, drying sun.Long toes with tiny ridges were present. Even individual palmpads registered. It was a beautiful picture: perfect tracks forminga trail across cracking mud, which produced an area betweenblocks of earth where tiny dewdrops clung to silken strands.

A great blue heron had walked the road, likely in search offrogs. Its tracks were the exact length of my hand, just as werebald eagle tracks along Oregon beaches earlier this summer. Ialso followed a cat for awhile. The flexibility of cat paws neverceases to amaze me. One moment the tracks are tiny, and thenext moment, in the same substrate, the paw has expanded andleft a track people might consider to be that of a bobcat. Severalsteps further and the cat’s claws registered well; the tracks couldhave been mistaken for those of a gray fox.

I glimpsed a female mink race by across Track Road—pos-sibly the same animal Mike and I had seen toward the start ofthe summer. A dash of dark brown and she was gone. Shebrought my attention to a shrew that had been killed by a cat, Ibelieve, and abandoned next to the stream. Unfortunately, thisis a common end for shrews; they are often abandoned afterbeing killed.


Jumping mice tracks

I pressed the shrew’s feet in mud. The palm-pad configura-tion matched my track plate research at home. I’d been work-ing with a U.S. Forest Service biologist who captures smallmammals. He allowed me to run the animals across sootedtrack plates. In this way I’ve been able to determine how to dif-ferentiate between the many small mammal tracks I find whilewandering. But what struck me about the shrew’s tracks wasthat they looked like tiny raccoon tracks: their long toes regis-tered fully, connecting with the palm. Naturally, this may haveto do with the pressure I was exerting, but it was something tokeep an eye out for.

I was able to locate one of the screech owls this evening byfollowing the alarm calls of wood thrushes and robins. I’vebegun to recognize the patterns of birdcalls that reveal the pres-ence of screech owls—differences in the durations and intensi-ties of the calls, differences between calls of alarm, and callsmeant to harass the predator.

Our nights have been very dark and absolutely moonless.I’d missed the moon. Tonight, though, we were gifted toglimpse it again, a sliver low on the horizon. It had been so longsince I had watched the moon, with all the complications ofevening clouds, its positions in the sky, and its stages, that Idecided to sit and watch. The moon was a dark yellow, like mus-tard. It did not spend much time with us this evening andmoved lower on the horizon. The colors of the sliver changedfrom dark yellow to orange to blood red. It’s an eerie thing tolook at a blood-red sliver hung in the sky. It creates a mood, andyou can’t look away. It’s not the feelings you get from horrormovies, but of energy, raw power, which can certainly be fright-ening at times.

I sometimes wonder why the moon is red, and then I real-ize it’s what’s in the atmosphere. There must be a tremendousamount of pollution in the air. And that is a disturbing thought.


Day 34

Mike has decided he will begin a “vision quest” today. He’ll stayout for four nights and four days. We’ve also all agreed upon anend for this adventure, which changes things dramatically. Itlooms on the horizon sooner than we expect. On the eveningafter Mike’s return, I’ll begin a solo of the same duration. ThenI’ll return and have two more days in the woods. On the thirdday after my return, we will eat breakfast at Mike’s house. Wewill feast on smoothies and homemade waffles, which areMike’s culinary specialties.

It’s not the end; David and Mike would like to bring in foodand continue “camping” while practicing skills. Initially, this wasalso my plan, but now I feel it really is the end. I look forward toseeing Kayla again. I’ll return to my apartment, fetch my camera,and photograph any animal signs I’d encountered over the sum-mer that still persist. With an end scheduled, my mind has wan-dered a bit. I’m still present in the woods, but I’ve become moreaware of the lifestyle that lies at the bottom of the hill.

Here, living with nature, my life is simple. It is this simplic-ity of survival that I sought this summer. I have felt the mostconnected to the world, and the most aware of a power greaterthan myself, when I have lived simply. Hiking, camping, andworking with the land allow me this simplicity, but using sur-vival skills has provided the greatest simplicity of all.

I remember a discussion I had with a woman from school.We were discussing spirituality, religion, and the countless “spir-itual” options these days. She informed me she had about triedthem all, yet she continued to feel frustrated, as no path had pro-vided any proof of the existence of a “greater power.” She assuredme that just one miracle would make her loyal forever.

I, too, have read a great many books from philosophiesaround the globe and practiced various spiritual rituals. Theplace where I witness miracles is in nature. Life is intricate.Diverse organisms inhabit unique niches, and somehow eachcontributes to the overall ecosystem. Beautiful sunsets, cloud


formations, horned moths, inchworms, and the bark of chest-nut oaks are celebrated even by science. The difference, I’vecome to believe, is when you choose to see miracles in life, ratherthan take them for granted. Rather than spending my whole lifesearching for something, I’ll hope to spend that time living.

I remember teaching a tracking class along a coastal beachthis past spring. A participant discovered the egg casings ofwhelks and called the group together. I emptied a sack into myhand. There were hundreds and hundreds of tiny whelks, per-fect replicas of the massive shells so many admire and collect.They were incredible. The woman pointed at the tiny whelksand said, “This is God.”

Daily concerns have now become nonexistent. There is somuch food in this bountiful area. The only food issues that per-sist are those I have created: I’d rather wander and explore thanharvest all the time, and I still crave food from society eventhough I’m eating well. But there are no phones, no “bosses,” nobills, no school, no stress at all. I haven’t had a stress-inducedheadache since I arrived.

I began to practice survival skills years ago in the hopes ofleaving society behind. I had rebelled against family, school, andsociety. But my final rebellion would be in leaving it all behindto undertake a mythic journey of man and nature. How my lifehas changed. I’ve come to peace with myself and with thedemons of my past. I no longer have regrets. Well, maybe one—I do regret that there are people who remember me as an angryyoung man. I tripped and stumbled through early adulthood.As I look back, though, I must say I wouldn’t change a thing. Iam the culmination of my experiences and of the lives andexperiences of my ancestors. All that has happened has led meto this place, and here, now, in this forest, I am surrounded bybeauty. A breeze pushes north, raising goose bumps on myarms and swaying the hemlock canopy. A chickadee sings belowme on the ridge and a veery sings in the trees above. Right now,in this place, I am happy.

In short, I have found that survival skills are not only func-tional in times of crisis, but also provide the opportunity to


explore our true selves and what it means to be human. Survivalskills also allow for a new relationship with the land. I walk inthe woods and am more aware of the bounty that is present, theplants and animals which would sustain me if I so choose.Thus, each new understanding of how to harvest a plant oranimal makes me more conscious of my environment andmore aware of my relationship with natural systems.

I have witnessed people as they are struck by these skills.They look as if they have finally come home—holding their firstfire, identifying their first fisher trail, or stalking barefoot acrossforest floor. So simple and grounded, yet so very powerful.

Mike left for the hill to the west in the evening and Davidhas not yet returned from home. I gathered plants for dinnerand checked a few wild pear trees. Mike and I found a tree withripe fruit just yesterday. Wild pears are small, like plums, andhave a crunchy, sweet bite. They were wonderful. I’ve missedeating fruit, other than, of course, berries.

I sat and enjoyed a fire as darkness closed around me. Fire,the perfect companion, offered light, cooking, and warmth. It’seasy to dream while staring into a fire. The call of a close screechowl brought me back to my senses. I could see the owl’s eyesflicker in the firelight as it perched in a nearby hemlock. Onemore call and the owl was off; I watched it go, mufflers of itsfeathers silencing its flight. I retired to bed soon after.

Mike has been compiling a list of meals or tastes he findsparticularly wonderful. I have a new one for him: hemlock teawith a dash of honey. I also concocted a mint mix: spearmint,peppermint, wild mint, and honey.

There is something special about sitting around a fire atnight. The dark enveloped me tightly, creating the sense ofbeing in a room and sipping tea. It was peaceful.

Day 35

I’m still alone in camp. It’s serene to be on your own. I strolledto check the traps. A snare had been run over and lay flattened


in the trail. Maybe next time the animal will run through it,rather than over it.

On my way back, I looked at tracks. One mud puddleyielded some beautiful rat tracks. I may have been the only per-son excited to know they were here, but then again perhaps fewwould recognize their trails. The front tracks were like largemouse tracks and had a different shape than the prints of a redsquirrel, which are similar in size. The front toes tended tosplay, similar to the front tracks of opossum.

I also found beautiful cottontail, red fox, gray squirrel,jumping mouse, raccoon, opossum, and woodchuck trails onthe way back. Tracks, tracks, tracks. I wish I had my camera forthose rat tracks. Someday. This summer is about reveling inmoving through the woods without camera gear.

David appeared when the sun was high, just in time for aquick rain shower and to try my acorn/black birch bark flourcombo. Acorns weren’t actually ripe yet, but I wanted to knowwhat they offered this early in the season. The answer was lessnut meat and a bitter flour. We tried ash cakes and gruel, thenfried the flour in talo, or rendered fat. The fried flour had a wel-come fried diner-like texture and flavor. All methods producedpalatable food that was even pleasing with adequate quantitiesof honey.


Acorn FlourOf the many sources of food in thewild, acorns are a real boon tothose willing to process them. Oakscan be divided into two basic types,red (or black) oaks and white oaks.They differ in a number of ways thatare important to acorn harvest.

Red oaks, like the scarlet oaks,begin to bear fruit at about twentyyears of age but don’t reach theirfull potential until they are aboutfifty years old. Acorns take twoyears to mature and contain highamounts of tannins, giving the


acorns a very bitter taste. Theygenerally produce a good cropevery three to five years. One treemay produce a good mast, whilethe tree next to it may be having apoor year.

White oaks can produce acornsevery year, some with so little tan-nin that they can be eaten raw.According to the U.S. ForestService, even though white oakscan produce high numbers ofacorns, good years are sporadic,occurring once every four to tenyears. Sometimes a few years willpass with no crop at all. In goodyears, not every tree will produce aheavy crop of acorns; therefore,when a healthy mast is available, itshould be taken advantage of. TheU.S. Forest Service further says thatthe best mast production occurs inyears when the weather is warm forten days during flowering and thencools down for the following thir-teen to twenty days. It should benoted that white oak acorns germi-nate quickly upon falling to theground, thus diminishing theirnutritional value.

HARVESTING ACORNSIn the fall, any nuts in theNortheast—acorns, hickories, wal-nuts, butternuts, and beechnuts—are great sources of proteins andoils.

Acorns should be harvested inthe fall when they are dropping nat-


urally. Competition for acorns canbe stiff, but in a good year, youshould have no problem collectingmore than you can deal with, espe-cially if you are not against extraprotein in the form of acorn weevils.When found on the ground with thecap still attached, acorns are almostcertain to contain weevils, as areacorns that have a brown spot or ahole in them.

PREPARING ACORNSYou need to prepare acorns notonly to remove the tannins but alsoto ensure that you don’t lose yourharvest to mold. Acorns should firstbe shelled (they are easily crackedwhen thumped with a stick). Thetannins can then be leached outthrough cold or hot leaching.

In cold leaching, the shelledacorns are left in a bag or basket inflowing water until they can beeaten raw with little or no bitter-ness. This can take a few days;much depends on the flow of thewater and the porosity of the bag.Shelled acorns are also subject totheft by critters, so beware.

In hot leaching, crushed or wholeacorns are boiled in changes ofwater until the water remains clearor only lightly colored. According toKaren Sherwood of EarthwalkNorthwest, the acorns must beimmersed in already boiling water,and each successive change ofwater should be boiling prior to

adding the acorns. Otherwise, thebitterness will stay even though thetannins are removed. The tea-brownwater should not be thrown out,because it is an antiviral and anti-septic. This makes it a good washfor dermatitis and, according to DanFisher, an effective laundry deter-gent, although it will lightly stainwhite clothes. Mark Elbroch, aftereating acorns for only a short while,discovered that his tolerance for thebitterness increased to a pointwhere he found tasty what otherscould not stomach.

Once the tannins have beenleached out, the acorns need to beroasted and pulverized into a finepowder. Store this flour in a cool,dry area.

UTILIZING ACORNSAcorn flour lacks wheat’s cohesive-ness and produces a crumbly prod-uct unless it is cut 50/50 or 75/25with another flour. Other possibleadditives are cattail pollen, bulrushor other ground seeds, and groundbeechnuts, walnuts, and hickorynuts (nuts that need no treatmentother than shelling). For porridge, amixture of any of the above, in anyratio, can be made by adding hotwater and stirring well.

Acorn ash cake is an excellentfood. To make the dough, mix theflour and water so that it doesn’tquite stick to your hands. Add waterin small amounts, kneading the


dough each time. Place fruit (recon-stituted or fresh) in the middle of aquarter-inch-thick circle of dough,and fold the dough in half over theberries. Pinch the top edge togetherwith the bottom edge to seal them.Bury this mixture in ashes nearcoals. The ashes serve as some-what of a leavening agent, causingthe outer dough with which theashes are in contact to rise slightly.They are easily blown off the fin-ished pastry.

Acorn bread is another outstand-ing food. You can use the followingrecipe to begin working with acornflour while you are still at home.Many skills require practice beforeyou can count on them in serioussituations, so easing into some ofthe skills is fun and beneficial.

2 cups acorn flour2 cups cattail or white flour3 teaspoons baking powder1⁄3 cup maple syrup or sugar1 egg1⁄2 cup milk3 tablespoons olive oilBake in pan for 30 minutes oruntil done at 400 degrees

Utilizing acorns is truly an art. Forthose of you who want to take yourskills beyond the simple scope ofthis discussion, we recommend, ItWill Live Forever: TraditionalYosemite Indian Acorn Preparationby Beverly Ortiz and Julia Parker(Heyday Books, September 1996).

I mentioned a massive beetle several evenings ago. I have con-tinued to find identical species all over the woods, laying eggs inmoss, duff, debris, and earth. It must be some sort of cyclicevent, or I just haven’t noticed. I’ve now tuned in to theirsounds and movements and am able to recognize them amidthe clamor of feeding birds, daddy longlegs, shrews, mice, andpine borers. It’s quite amazing to recognize beetle footsteps inleaf litter.

I’m not sure I’ve mentioned how loud tiny pine borers are.I’d follow these grunt-like sounds to discover neatly piledshavings of wood under minuscule holes in recently felled orfallen pines. The noise was quite astonishing. I have waited toview the insects responsible on several occasions and seen suchtiny black creatures I could scarcely believe it. I did not attemptto touch one in case it lashed out with hidden massive teeth andbored clear through my hand.

I had planned to begin my solo the evening after Mikereturned, but unfortunately this would mean returning to campwhen David would be celebrating his brother’s birthday. Thiswould leave Mike the burden of gathering food for a meal fortwo. If I left a day earlier, I might miss Mike’s return, and I’mundecided about going a day later.

I’m looking forward to the experience. I’m excited aboutfasting and confining myself to a ten-foot circle for four daysand nights. Some may find this odd.

I have begun to think about life after living in the woods.I’ve thought about what skills I will study and practice more indepth, such as collecting fall cordage materials and nuts, andI’ve thought about what foods I will eat. On the other hand, Irealize I must find a job to make money to pay for my food andshelter, and for the courses that will help me attain new jobs,food, and shelters. We’ve made living so complicated.

In the woods the skills are direct. You learn to build sheltersand harvest food from the land. In society there’s this money



stuff. You work and work to gain money to pay for shelter, food,and other commodities. The trick seems to be finding a jobwhere you are feeding yourself (meaning body, mind, andspirit), without suffocating who you really are.

Most folks seem to think that earning cash to pay the billsisn’t a waste of time. Yet, I have so many tracking and primitiveskills projects going, and so many books I’ve started to read,that I feel constantly distracted by work to earn money to paythe bills. We’ve created an odd society. There are now new com-ponents to living, steps in the middle in order to survive. In allthis complication, people are often misled and begin to feel thatmoney is the point of living, rather than money being a meansto really live.

I shared my hunting time in the lower field this eveningwith another predator. I had opted for a new hunting strategy,arriving early and waiting. I sat peacefully, watching the shad-ows grow longer. My shirt was pulled over my head and ears tokeep the gnats at bay. Time passed as the sun dropped to thewest. Then, I heard movement behind me. Something wasstalking the edge of the field and was making quite a racket. Iexpected it to be the evening’s first woodchuck, warily movingup to the field edge. I was glad to know that even animals havea hard time stalking quietly in goldenrod thickets.

Slowly, the animal approached, with long pauses betweenmovements. One pause was so long, I almost forgot about theanimal, because I had become distracted by a far-off wood-chuck feeding. Suddenly, there was an explosive lunge to my leftand a cottontail appeared at full gallop. With a quick twist of itsbody, it turned to follow the field edge and returned to the gold-enrod about fifty yards away. The sound of the lunge had con-tinued after the cottontail had appeared. A predator was stilllingering. Then, I heard the stalking animal slowly move away.I don’t know what it was. A fox? Coyote? Fisher? I didn’t inves-tigate either, because I was trying to retain a low profile. Thestealthy predator remained anonymous.


Day 36

David and I decided to do some fishing. Although I’d been eat-ing regularly, I felt a little weak, especially on the hike up theridge to camp. I felt I hadn’t been eating enough—too muchaimless wandering and too little harvesting. I love to wander.Anyway, we thought a sizable trout meal might be the cure.

We took the scenic route to fish via Track Road. There wasa decent array of movement. One trail caught my interest. Itwas that of a young opossum, out on its own. I measured tracksand strides with the beaded bracelet Kayla had made for me. It’sinteresting to note that such a small animal might be encoun-tered unaccompanied.

David and I lay next to the puddles and watched bobbingyoung wood and green frogs dive and burrow in the soft siltalong the bottom. They created huge crevices in the earth, anda mound gave away their new whereabouts. They never stayedhidden long. They would bob back up to the surface and rest inshallow water. Their eyes and noses were visible along puddleedges, exposed to the open air.

We watched tiny insects navigate the pebble bottoms, fol-lowing great valleys formed by the tracks of great blue heronson the hunt. Activity and life abounded in the puddles.

We devoted considerable time to watching mud dauberswhile lying in between muddy ruts in the road. They had largeblack bodies and golden legs and wings. Their abdomens bobbedup and down as they moved about the puddles. They would landand begin to probe various areas of the puddle with theirmouths. They would dig in the moistest mud, very much like adog, and create a perfect sphere of mud beneath them. Holdingon to their work with their first four legs, they would rise, circlingonce or twice to gain altitude. Then they would fly directlythrough the stand of sumac to our south. We kept watching.

While we lay there, two great blue herons swooped in,nearly landing on us. Great grunting calls and flapping wingsfilled the air as they successfully diverted their direction at the


last moment. They skimmed above our raised heads andheaded back toward the stream.

Amidst the mud wasp activity, there was also a paperwasp—a larger, narrower version of a yellow jacket—whichappeared to be returning to drink. Repeatedly it would land atone end of the puddle, insert its mouth, and be blown by theslight breeze to the other side. It was beautiful—a striking shipof yellow and black floating across the puddle.

These were the moments I wanted to last forever, the timesI hoped I could meditate upon, pulling out of my memorybanks to relive during hectic moments in society. We lay flat,like children, fascinated with absolutely everything. The sunbeat down on my back and a light breeze played with my hair.Insects were tolerably low—a rare moment this summer. Wejust observed and learned. There was no other place in theworld I wanted to be at that moment; I was content.

As we walked back to our fish spears, we approached andwatched birds bathe in large puddles. A black and white


flight line of each wasp

puddle

mud ball

Mud wasp

warbler, tufted titmice, catbirds, and a scarlet tanager all sharedone small puddle. As we walked in the woods over the summer,we alarmed fewer and fewer birds. They seemed to become moretolerant of us, or something about us has become less threaten-ing. The tanager perched just above the puddle and completed afull body preen. His fluorescent red body, accented by blackwings, tail, and plumage around the beak, were a sight to behold.

Whenever I look at tanagers, I remember my high schoolornithology class and a time when we admired a tanager and acardinal in the same tree. The red of the tanager is indescribablybrighter than that of the cardinal. I don’t know who was moreexcited, the professor or me. His passion was addictive, and thatis how teachers should be.

Day 37

I awoke in the morning, remembering the night’s storm. Ithought of stubborn Mike, who would sit through anything outthere. As I sat next to my debris hut and cooled off, I spotted thegray squirrel that uses our camp. Our camp is surrounded byred squirrels, but we have a gray squirrel in our actual camp. Itis a skittish animal and flees at any sound or movement.

The squirrel walked toward me, and when it was close, itbegan a ritual I had never witnessed before. The movementswere extremely quick. There were two young chestnut oaks nextto each other, surrounded by a bed of moss. The squirrel’smovements alternated in rapid succession. It began to dig in themoss in a random pattern, throwing it up in the air. Then, itwould leap about two feet up the tree and leap off, completingone and one-half flips to land on its head and shoulders in themoss. This was followed by more digging and more aerial div-ing with twists and flips from the two oaks. Then, flips and rollsfrom ground level were incorporated into the alternating anticsof aerial flips, rolls, and digging. The squirrel would also rub itscheeks along the moss before leaping upward, or it would hangupside down and rub its face along the trunk or on the moss at


the base of the tree, if he could reach it. The event lasted fiveminutes. The moss looked like a battlefield, and without anycue I was able to discern, the squirrel began walking slowlyaway. It bounded a few times. It walked up to a large mush-room, plucked the entire thing, and devoured it. That squirrelhad to be dizzy!

What had I just witnessed? I don’t know. Possibly a scent-ing behavior I may never fully comprehend. The moss wasspread about, pulled up almost completely. Upon closer inspec-tion, I noticed the area was covered in gray squirrel hairs.

I decided to look for similar signs in areas I knew wereoccupied by gray squirrels. I looked at the moss at the base oftrees for signs of disturbance. I eliminated any moss patchesthat were affected by traveling animals and only included dis-turbed areas where I found a minimum of ten squirrel hairs. Bythe end of the day, I had found six such areas. I was beginningto believe it really was a scent-marking behavior.

There is a rhythm to my days—not a rote schedule, but arhythm that I enjoy. I check traps after the sun has reached thevalley floor and investigate tracking spots along the way. Mostoften the traps produce no prey, and I spend considerable time


Coyote tracks

rearranging them to attempt to catch what animals trippedthem and weren’t caught. Just a few days ago, I caught a wood-chuck that escaped the snare because the sapling I had bent toform the trap had lost its spring while being held in position forseveral days. I vary my route to visit different areas. Today therewere coyote tracks near my northern snares, which worried mea bit. I didn’t want to have a meal stolen before I found it.

I tend to spend late mornings working on skills, such asmaking cordage or containers. Sometimes I write. I start mydays peacefully, often stopping to listen to the wind in thecanopy and to reflect on our time here.

Early afternoon is my personal time to wander and watch.During the late afternoon and into the evening, Mike and I huntindependently and then gather dinner. I check the traps againbefore sitting by the fire and drinking an evening tea. I watch thesunset, the moon, and the stars wherever I am at the time.

There is natural variation, and there is nothing to hold meto what I wrote about the rhythm of my days. If we should snarean animal in the morning, we would eat our big meal forbrunch. We prefer to fish earlier in the day so that we can huntin the evening. Hunting is connection time—more personaltime. The goal is to watch and experience; the kill is secondary.


Red fox tracks


With no nails or screws for buildingin the wild, the value of cordage isclear. Cordage is the nuts and bolts,the nails and screws, the very twinein the yarn of the land. Cordage isused, among other things, for bow-strings, snowshoe bindings, baskethandles, bolas, snares, nets, fishingline, lashings, bags, and belts. It isalso used for sewing, weaving,making a fire with a bow drill, andbuilding shelters. Of the manycordage options available, most fitinto one of three categories.

First are the annuals. Plants suchas milkweed, dogbane, stinging net-tle, and hemp have a pithy centerand strong fibers that grow on theoutside of the stalk. Harvesting thefibers is done when the plant isdead in the fall but has not yet hadthe chance to start decomposing. Ihave harvested stalks in the winterand spring from still standingplants, but the fibers were weak.

The second type of good-qualityfiber can be found in the meatyleaves of yucca and agave locatedthroughout much of the West, aswell as in plantings in the East, or inthe bark of basswood (Americanlinden), cedar, aspen, cottonwood,ash, hickory, tamarack, willow, andjuniper found in the East. Fibers


within this category can be har-vested anytime, yet require morework to gather and prepare.

Third, cordage can be made fromalmost any plant, although the qual-ity, or lack thereof, will vary consid-erably. Velvet leaf, fireweed, eveningprimrose, cattail, wild grape, bul-rush, grasses, conifer rootlets, andgreen sapling bark (pounded with amallet) are a few. Cordage can alsobe made from animal products likesinew, rawhide, and hair.

HARVEST AND STORAGEMany fibrous annuals, includingmilkweed and dogbane, tend togrow in large patches and, oncerecognized, can easily be found dur-ing the summer and early fall whenthey are still alive and easy to dis-tinguish from other similar plants.Harvest the dry, dead stalks in latefall by breaking them off at theground and bundling them togetherfor transport and storage. I prefer toharvest after the seeds have dis-persed (or I sprinkle them myself)to ensure that the following year Iam able to harvest in the same area.Keep the stalks in a dry place out ofdirect sunlight until needed.

Basswood and yucca offer up

Cordage

their fibers in different ways. Whenharvesting yucca and agave, care-fully cut a few leaves from the baseof the plant (the tips are verysharp). If you are traveling, wrapthe cut ends in wet towels or paperand cover them with plastic. If youare going to work with the fibersnearby, then they can remainuncovered.

Basswood trees can be foundfrom eastern North Dakota, south toeastern Texas, and east to theAtlantic. When harvesting bass-wood, the bark can be peeled easilyfrom a live tree or branch. Largetrees (eighteen inches or more indiameter) can have bark removedwith no ill side effects. (I am not atree surgeon, so please check withone prior to removing bark if youare concerned about parasites oradversely affecting a given tree.) Myrule of thumb is to take a piece nowider than one quarter of the diam-eter of the tree. Example: If I have atree with a twenty-four-inch diame-ter, I will take a six-inch-wide stripof bark.

Cut the width of your intendedstrip horizontally through the bark,then pry the cut section upwardwith a stick or sturdy knife. Onceyou have enough bark freed fromthe tree, take hold of it with yourhands and pull while walking back-ward from the tree. The strip willrun up the trunk, getting narroweras it climbs until it tapers to a pointand breaks. In general, the longer


the strip, the better, as this willdefine the length of the fibers withwhich you will be working.

The bark must now ret, or soak,submerged in water. Soaking inrunning water, as in a cold creek,will require a longer ret time (fourto six weeks) than in a warm pond(two to four weeks). The soakingbegins the breakdown process inthe bark, which is made up of manylayers of fine, paperlike material.Pieces left too long in the water arestill useful; although the exposedlayers may have rotted, there mayremain plenty of good materialunder them.

PREPARING THE FIBERSAnnuals1. With milkweed or dogbane, crush

the stem with your fingers, orbetween two hard objects, and

Preparing to break a milkweed stalk

open it by sliding your thumbdown one of the cracks until thestalk is lying with the inside upand open to the sky. Remember,the fibers you seek are on theoutside of the plant and now sitin your hand, facing the ground.

2. With the stalk under your rightarm, and your right palm sup-porting the plant, extend the openstalk three inches past your palm(see illustration on previous page)and break downward. Should youbreak upward, you may sever thefibers. Pull off the woody portion.This should leave you with apapery, fibrous material or skinstill attached to the stalk on oneend. Extend the stalk anotherthree inches beyond your handand repeat. Once the stalk hasbeen treated thus, rub the weakand wispy bit of “skin” betweenyour hands until it feels softerand the woody bits and outer-most skin crack away. You’re nowready to spin the fibers intocordage, as described below.

YuccaA smooth, round stone the size of adinner plate near flowing water isoptimal for this task. You will alsoneed a wrist-thick stick. Dip theyucca in the water and lay it on therock. Pound on it for about twentystrokes before dipping it in thewater again. As you alternatebetween pounding and dipping, youwill notice that not only are you


making a frothy mess of naturalsoap on the rock, but also, all thegreen meat of the plant is dissipat-ing and white fibers are beingrevealed. Soon, that is all that willremain. These fibers can be leftattached to the very sharp point ofthe leaf and stored for later use, oryou can cut all but three or sofibers and use the pointed leaf tipas a natural needle and thread.Proceed to the section below onspinning the fibers into cordage.

BasswoodPull the retted bark from the waterand peel up layers of fibers. Stiffersections can be pounded in fashionsimilar to that of yucca (seeabove),or the bark can be left to retlonger. The fibers are then ready tobe worked into cordage.

SPINNING FIBERS INTO CORDAGE1. Hold the fibers near the middle of

their length, with the thumb andforefinger of each hand about fourinches apart. Begin twisting thematerial by rolling it between yourright thumb and forefinger whileholding firmly with your left.

2. This continued twisting will causea loop or kink to form in the areabetween your hands. Grasp theloop or kink between the leftthumb and forefinger, letting both“bundles” of fiber hang down.

3. With your right thumb and fore-

finger, twist the strand on theright (strand A) counterclockwise,or away from you, then wrap thetwisted strand A toward you, orclockwise, around strand B.

4. Releasing strand A, grasp strandB and repeat what you have justdone with strand A. This method,while slow, will make for a tightand consistent string suitable forbows and snare lines.

You can do this process faster:

1. Hold the fibers near the middle inyour left hand and lay themacross your right thigh, with thetwo strands separated by a fewinches.

2. Place your right hand on thestrands, with the pad of yourmiddle finger on the forwardstrand and the other strand justbelow it closer to your palm.

3. Slide your right hand forward,rolling both strands, still inde-


pendent of each other, until thenear strand reaches the base ofyour palm.

4. Now pull your hand back, bring-ing both strands together wherethey will wind about one another.Grasp the strands where theymeet, then repeat.

This method is especially useful forrapid production of weaving materi-als or for making string that is notintended for heavy work.For bundles of long fibers like bass-wood, one end can be attached toan object, and a large loop of thincordage, placed at the center point,can be attached to another object,such as a tree.

With the bundle forming a straightline from the anchored end throughthe loose loop, the free end is twisteduntil a kink is formed in the middle.Then, while maintaining some ten-sion, the free end is brought to theanchored end, which is then freed.Both bundles are allowed to wraparound each other. The loose loop isuntied and removed from thecordage. There are many variationsof this method, and I encourage youto discover them as you experimenton your own.

SPLICINGOften, the fibers used are not longenough to create a rope of a usablelength. Therefore, you’ll need tosplice in additional fibers. Two tech-Set-ups for reverse-wrapping of long fibers

niques are commonly used, and Ihave found both satisfactory.

1. If both fiber bundles below thespun cordage are of the samelength, then a “full lay-in” is anoption. To clarify, when twoinches or more of unspun fibersare left remaining to be wrapped,a new fiber bundle is grasped atits center and laid with the centerpoint at the last wrap. The newlengths are now wrapped alongwith the old. To avoid the bulgethat the full lay-in leaves in thecordage, you can trim one of theunspun fiber bundles hangingbelow the cordage by five inches,then proceed as described below.

2. If the fiber bundles below thespun cordage are uneven, asplice is required. When two or


more inches are left on one fiberbundle, a new bundle is laid onthe remaining two inches, andyou continue to reverse-wraponce again.

There is no substitute for practicewhen making cordage. Your speedand quality will improve quicklyonce you have the basic conceptdown. Pay attention to how tightlyor loosely you are wrapping, thennote the quality. Too loose a wrapwill result in weak cordage, and tootight a wrap will compromise theflexibility and therefore the longevityof the cordage (tight fibers rubbinghard against one another willweaken and break). Try for an evenwidth and don’t get discouraged if ittakes you ten or more feet to pro-duce a nice section of cordage.

A full lay-in

I move much more slowly and notice a great deal more when Imove with the intention of hunting; slowly moving and payingclose attention seems to release intuitive depths. I feel outpotential trails, hunting areas, and the whereabouts of animals.

It was Mike who came up with a hypothesis correlatingdaydreaming and hunting woodchucks. He noticed that whilehe hunted and then suddenly began to daydream, he was actu-ally near a woodchuck. Over time, daydreaming became a flagfor paying greater attention and noting animal presence.

I tested the hypothesis myself and found tremendous sup-porting evidence. Over and over again, I’d be silently movingalong, and when I began to daydream, I’d catch myself andfreeze. Upon closer inspection of the area, an animal wouldeither be in sight, but not moving, or literally be just around thenext bend. It is as if some ancient part of me has hunted before.

My natural rhythms allow for personal time, reflection, andpeace of mind. In society, I keep schedules more than rhythms.I wake up to go to work, not when my eyes open. I use an alarmclock rather than trusting my internal timepiece. I go to bedafter the commute back from night classes, not when I am tired.I schedule personal time for tracking when I can; I’m not alwaysable to stop and fully appreciate when tracking presents itself tome. I often can’t stop and marvel at what I encounter, becauseI’m late for this or that. Here, I have no obligations, and when Ifeel like watching or listening, I can. When an opportunity forlearning presents itself, I take it.

I’ll miss the freedom and the flexibility of rhythms when Ireturn to schedules. The challenge, of course, is to allow forrhythms in society. I remind myself, life is to be lived, notendured.

Each night the moon grows larger and spends more timereflecting light in our neck of the woods. What a gift to be ableto move without apprehension at night. Of course, movingslowly, sensing your way off-trail in pitch black, has its benefits.



I crawl up the ridge on all fours, catching blotchy green flashesas my hands and arms move into peripheral vision. Could thisbe what’s called aura? Or the light surrounding tree trunkswhich illuminates their shapes in the blackness?

But, I appreciate the light the moon lends. The walk to mydebris hut was less treacherous.

Day 38

David and I made a pilgrimage miles downstream to a place werefer to as “the gorge.” We went in quest of rumored large troutfor Mike’s feast this evening, to celebrate the end of his fast andtime alone.

We wandered the stream along the way. Waters becamewider and deeper. The stream where we fished and played hadjoined others, gaining volume and strength. Trout darted fordeep waters or under banks as we passed numerous pools.There is so much life in these streams. We kept moving for themost part, stopping to watch cedar waxwings catch flies and toadmire a massive old pine, saved from logging only because ithad fallen across the stream.

Our arrival at the gorge was sudden; each bend in the riverlooked similar to the last, but then there it was. The gorge laybefore us, a massive bedrock of shale carved over many lifetimesby moving water.

Similar to the waterfall we visited to the north, the walls ofshale were carpeted by moss at water level and up higher bylichens and ferns. The shallow root systems of hemlocks huggedthe edges of the walls, and behind them, white oaks anchored indeeper soils. Like the waterfall, this place was stunning, breath-taking; it was a sacred place. But in contrast to the waterfall, itseemed that many people knew about this spot and had visitedand discarded scraps of our current culture amidst piles of beercans. I managed to maintain my focus on the natural sur-roundings rather than the trash.

The gorge was a long, connected series of carved bowls of


water. The crystal clear, light blue water reached depths of fif-teen feet and slid through without a ripple. I lay, head hangingover the ten-foot walls, watching trout and suckers dart aboutover the smooth, sandy floor.

We stripped down and slowly entered the frigid water. Wehad hoped to hand fish the depths but found it difficult. I wasn’tsure whether I was stalking rock, log, or fish, and the cold waterdiverted my attention.

I climbed out and told David I’d prefer to spearfish abovethe gorge. David had another idea. He wanted to dash back tocamp, pick up goggles he had there, and, with his car, drive backto rejoin me. He was worried about leaving me for so long, butI assured him I’d be fine.

I don’t know how long David was gone—many hours, forsure. I sat most of the time, absorbing sun and attempting tomemorize every crack and plant along the far wall. I wanted toremember this place; I hoped to carry it with me.

I also lay gazing into the pools, watching how the troutmoved and where they stopped to rest, and where the sandy,rocky floor and shale walls met. This was how David found meupon his return.

In society, I live a hectic schedule of daily events. To sit anddo nothing is borderline uncomfortable, a sure sign of a lifestylethat needs changing. Here, I am changed. I often sit “unpro-ductively” and feel that these are the most productive parts ofmy day. Waiting for others or animals or sitting for no reason atall is no longer uncomfortable or a chore, but rather a blessing.I have slowed down.

David appeared with a fascinating primitive mask he’dacquired someplace else. It was formed from plastic and rubber.With it, you could go under water and see as clearly as if youwere in the air. Such perfect vision and so many fish distractedme from the icy water. I caught three large trout with my handsbefore turning the mask over to David for a go.

I sat in the sun and violently shivered for ten minutesbefore settling into light shivers for another fifteen. Eventually,the sun warmed even my bones and I had another go with the


mask in the depths of the gorge. It was beautiful below the sur-face. Fish floated in sunlit waters, their movements so easy, theirbodies so light. I stayed under water for as long as I could tostare at a tiny sunfish that hung about mid-depth in one of thecarved bowls. Every detail shone so clear. The fish was stunning.

Upon our return to the field below camp, David and Iwatched a family of chipping sparrows. The two young werefully grown and capable, yet had brown caps, not having yetdeveloped their rusty crowns. The mother hopped about,pulling insects from plantains and clover. She fed her young inbetween their own individual forays among the low vegetation.They pecked randomly, chasing moths and other insects as theywere flushed from the grass. Many young birds were leavingtheir nests throughout the area. Summer is coming to an end.Soon, I too, would be leaving the security of this nest, our lushhillside, and the surrounding valleys.

Mike returned as the sun began to drop to the west, and wefeasted. He told horrendous tales of relentless swarms of mos-quitoes and gnats, as well as a series of nights, each one colderthan the previous. His eyes were clear, though—his smile real.Mike was so happy to be back. I was next. David said he’d haveto hear directly from the “Creator” before he did another soloand fast. And apparently he hasn’t heard, yet.

Day 39

Mike and I checked the snares together. No catch this morning,although the snares were being moved by passing woodchucks.We talked about tracks in all the mud puddles that we encoun-tered as we walked.

While walking through a field of flowering cinquefoils andclovers, I was stung by a honeybee. I was moving quickly—mymind was somewhere else—trying to catch up with Mike. Istepped on the bee as it worked, and it retaliated with a nastysting to the arch of my foot; the bee died.

It was quite an intense burn indeed. I brushed the stinger


off and limped about four steps before I spotted the leaves ofcommon plantain, renowned for extracting the poisons of beestings. I chewed a few leaves and applied a poultice. No lie—within ninety seconds the burn had disappeared. I continued tosit for a few minutes with the poultice. Then I caught up withMike over the next rise and reapplied a poultice for five min-utes. The sting barely swelled; the pain never returned. If I con-tinue to study plants, all culinary and medicinal worries mightfade away. Nature provides what we need.

I interpreted the sting as a reminder to slow down. I hadblocked out the background buzz of working bees for amoment and had been reminded that they, too, exist. Walkingbarefoot forces me to pay attention and slow down. Where andhow are my feet landing? With a subtle roll, my feet mold to theearth, and in my imagination I see the natural contours withinlandscapes.

With shoes, I’m able to blunder through the woods. Theyare armor, protecting me from my own sloppiness. Feet mayland wherever they fall, mind may race a mile a minute, and theresult is a crashing fool who notices nothing. Not much of asales pitch for my Adidas. They have their place, though—down the ridge, across the stream, through the fields, and to thenearest flat, hot asphalt.

There is nothing like walking quietly and slowly throughthe woods. Vision alters, and you notice every movement. Gutfeelings emerge to fill the space abandoned by mental garbage.Shift your weight from your center, rather than from your head,just as is emphasized in martial arts, and the bounce of moderngaits is removed. Walking in dry leaf litter and stepping on a softcushion of moss, which holds the moisture from the last rain, isas refreshing as a dip in the stream.

I remember my first few days in the woods this summer; Iwas in transition. Shoes were off, feet were here, but mind andfocus had not yet arrived. I beat myself up a bit. Luckily, cutsand scrapes heal, and with time I slowed down to match therhythm of the forest.



Keeping clean and healthy in thewild is not as tough as it mightseem. Once your diet of naturalfoods has pushed out all the toxinsand other super-processed food ofsociety, you will find that your bodyodor and oily hair fade away andplaque appears less on your teeth.

BRUSHING YOUR TEETHA black birch twig with one endchewed to a frayed tip works wellas a toothbrush and tastes good,too. Oak twigs are also popular,because the tannins help kill bacte-ria and remove their cavity-causingby-products.

CLEANING YOUR BODY AND CLOTHINGSoapwort, sometimes called bounc-ing bet, is found in disturbed soil, onriverbanks, and in streambeds. It hasleaves that can be briskly rubbedbetween your hands, creating agreen lather that works very well asa soap and deodorizer. Yucca leavesand roots (found naturally in theSouthwest, but also a common orna-mental plant) can be dipped in waterand beaten with a stick alternately tocreate good washing suds. Do not


use agave, as the sap is acidic andwill give you a burning rash as wellas burn holes in your clothes. Sandand stones are great washboards forscrubbing out clothes and scouringhands.

WASHING YOUR HAIROne of the best hair washes is mudfrom a hot spring. Clay does asomewhat inferior job and requiresa second wash with a deodorizingsoap or plant such as soapwort ormashed mint. Either one should bemixed with water until it is a justpourable mixture. Apply it to yourhair, working it in so that it is thor-oughly soaked. Leave it in for tenminutes or more and rinse well.

MENSTRUAL PADSThe absorbent quality of mossmakes it a great natural substitutefor soaking up women’s menstrualflow. Burn discarded moss to deterlarge predators from becominginterested, or bury it far from camp.

DEFECATINGThis is a tender subject for manypeople, yet an important one. Many

Hygiene

nervous poopers have refused togive in to the urge due to their lackof comfort with primitive toiletries.Holding a bowel movement backresults in constipation and, if nottended to, can lead to impaction, acondition requiring medical atten-tion. It is liberating indeed to walkinto the woods and know that at anytime, in any environment, you candrop your trousers and comfortablytake care of business. With that inmind, most public lands have strictguidelines concerning this very sub-ject, so be sure you familiarize your-self with local protocols.

Most people who defecate in thewoods will dig a six-inch hole, com-plete their business, fill it in, andcover it with a rock. After years ofpooping in the woods, I have cometo the conclusion that leaving poopon the surface allows it to disappearfar faster than if you put in theground, given that store-bought toi-let paper is not used. Additionally, ifpoop is visible, you are less likely tostep in it; if it is cleverly “buried”under two inches of soil, you endup with something akin to a mine-field and develop a fear of pickingup rocks. When you are in areasthat receive few visitors, and youleave your poop on the surface,defecate in out-of-the-way placeswhere people are not likely to go,such as thickets, next to thorn-bushes, and the like.

The following are eight ways inwhich to wipe yourself. The position


you use can minimize the need forextensive wiping, so it is best topoop in a squat. It helps in voidingthe bowels, as well as in spreadingyour buttocks, keeping them safelyout of harm’s way. Sitting over alog, straight or forked, is morecomfortable for some, while othersprefer to partially squat while hold-ing onto a tree to keep from fallingover backward.

• Snow is a tad chilly, yet very effec-tive, as it melts and conforms toyour personal shape, allowing fora good cleaning.

• Sand works very well, too! Whilesquatting, wipe lightly with ahandful of dry sand. The secondwipe can be a little harder. Thesand soaks up any moisture,sticks to other remnants, and isthen easily brushed off with a finalhandful of sand. This method isnot as uncomfortable as it maysound.

• Stones, rounded and slightlyrough, are very effective. Be care-ful in temperature extremes. It ispossible to injure yourself withvery hot or very cold stones.

• Pinecones should first be checkedfor pitch. If any is found, discardit. If not, wipe from the stem tothe tip. Most pinecones are com-fortable to use and effective.

• Sticks can be used, althoughthey’re not the best choice. Theyrequire a little more effort to getyourself really clean.

• Leaves are better doubled up, butdon’t press too hard or you will“pop” through. Use the rough sideof the leaf—the ribbed side—tocatch all wipeables. Watch out forpoison oak, poison ivy, and sting-ing nettle leaves. These wouldcause great discomfort.

• Grass and moss are fantastic forwiping. Wad them up into a clumplike a little green scrub brush andwipe away.

• Water, of course, is great, but it’sbest to use it after first using oneof the above. If water is to beused, carry a container away fromthe water source to avoid contami-nation.

• Be imaginative—nature is full ofpotential toiletries.

CARING FOR INFECTED WOUNDSWounds need careful care. Anyinfection may kill you if you do nottend to it properly.

While on an excursion, a friendgot a small cut on his foot. A fewdays later, I saw two red streaksoriginating from the cut and run-ning up his leg to his calf. I immedi-ately sent him to see a doctor.Those red lines were acute lym-phangitis, or blood poisoning. If leftuntreated, the bacteria causing theinfection would multiply rapidlyalong the lymphatic vessel, causingred streaks. It may invade thebloodstream and could cause sep-


ticemia, a serious and potentiallydeadly illness.

Prompt care of wounds is ofutmost importance. Any cut shouldbe cleaned with clean or boiledwater and monitored for redness,tenderness, or swelling. By far thebest natural treatment I haveencountered is broadleaf plantain.Four to five tender leaves chewed toa pulp (a rather bitter mouthful)should be applied to the wound andheld in place for three to five hours.This works miracles for even themost painfully infected cuts. Theimprovement should be very notice-able after five hours.

Note that this is not a substitutefor professional medical care. Yourbody and mind are the most valu-able of survival tools, so take goodcare of them. Don’t try to “tough itout” if there is any question as tothe severity of an injury or illness.Leaving the woods to get a woundor illness looked at by a healthcareprofessional is a good idea.Besides, if it turns out not to beserious, you can return to thewoods with no questions regardingyour health.

On our way back, I discovered one very exciting trail, that of abounding short-tailed shrew. I would have never been able torecognize the trail without my ongoing studies of live-trappedsmall mammals. I was able to identify the animal by foot padconfiguration and the number of toes. The shrew was in anatypical bounding pattern, which we may learn with time is itspreferred gait at high speeds. We’ll have to wait and see.

I remember a dream from earlier in this adventure. I waswalking down a hill to the north. The sun was shining brightlyand hung in the sky straight overhead. Near the mailboxes oflocal houses, which were clustered together along the dirt road,sat a rabbit. My shirt was tucked in, and I held my throwingstick over my shoulder. I approached closer and closer, aimed,released, and missed the cottontail, shooting off to the left. Iremember searching for my throwing stick, chest deep inbrambles.

The dream had struck me as a bit odd, because I neverexpected to be in that location without Mike, who knew folksin the vicinity. Nor did I expect to be hunting cottontails mid-day along a road near clustered mailboxes. But I didn’t pay itmuch heed.

Today, that scenario occurred perfectly. I was chest high inbrambles when it struck me, and I remembered the dream. Ihad hiked up there with Mike to explore, then we had sepa-rated. I never found my throwing stick.

These sorts of dreams, snippets of reality that come true,occur frequently. Deja vu, I suppose. The mind and spirit areremarkable. Whenever one of my dreams comes true, I alwaysplan to pay more attention to my dreams. But I have so manydreams every night and fall quickly behind. What is our humanpotential?

Tomorrow evening, I’ll begin my solo. I hope to clarify mypath in life and learn more about myself. I have so many differ-ent interests right now, and I worry that the decisions I make



while in the thick of society might be skewed or impulsive. Ithink I want to remain an environmental educator, but I’m feel-ing pulled in new directions. And, I really enjoy American SignLanguage. How do these two fit together? Then there’s wildlifetracking and the primitive skills, both of which feed me and Ienjoy. I’m also in a relationship with a woman I care for deeplyand who needs to be supported on her path. Yet I would alsolike to further my own education and broaden my experiences.I feel pulled in six directions at once and wonder which way togo. Will these paths all weave together, or pull me apart likesome archaic torture device? And then the niggling question:Do I really have a “path” at all, or is this some mental trickery tofeel better about myself, to feel special? Perhaps there’s no placeto be except right here, right now. These are the thoughts Ibring to the solo.

Day 40

Last night was hot. I awoke groggy, mouth dry, and body over-heated sometime after the moon had disappeared over the hori-zon. I rolled out of my debris hut and stumbled to the fire circlewhere I had left water. Mouth quenched and body cooling, Ithen began to hear them. My body and mind had distracted mefrom the ongoing concert on the other side of the hill. Coyoteshowled in unison, and their music flowed down the ridge likewater. Barks, yips, and howls wound together to create song.The woods were silent otherwise; all listened to the coyotes. I satfor awhile, an attentive audience. Gradually, I drifted to sleep,with their beautiful voices filling my shelter.

As morning became midday, David led us to an old over-grown orchard he had explored a few days before. The pear treein the middle of the tangles of goldenrod, ribes, grasses, andblooming soapwort had begun to drop fruit. Several species ofanimals were eating the pears, and David wanted confirmationof his observations.

The entire area was ideal for voles. Tunnel entrances spot-


ted the area, giving us a hint of the lengthy network upon whichwe walked. Tunnels and vole scat surrounded the fruit. Pearswere being devoured, tiny incisions creating intricate textures.

Deer were also visiting the tree and eating the fruit. Bothvoles and deer seemed to investigate each pear by biting in dif-ferent areas and on multiple pieces of fruit before feeding on aselected few. Most of the fruit, however, was being eaten byinsects. Black ants were the most visible.

I continued to wander the hill with Mike until early after-noon. It was time to begin my solo; I was ready.

I’ve decided to sit on the hillside just below where I killedthe fawn near the beginning of our time here. Solos are oftendescribed as mini “deaths,” an exchange for which you gaingreater insights or connections with self and spirit. I will expe-rience my “death” where I took the life of another. It is a gesture.I take so much from this hill and would like to think I gavesomething back as a participant in natural cycles rather thanjust an observer.

I’ve been thinking about the next four days and nights forsome time. No doubt this time will be challenging, requiring afurther surrender of mind, body, and spirit. You have to reallylet go of what you think you need in order to remain steadfastin a solo.

Day 44

I left in the late afternoon, sun to the west, four days ago, andreturned with the sun to the west on this day. It seems an oddtime to enter and exit a solo, but it gave the others time to fishand gather for dinner. I am thankful I don’t have to rush outand gather. I’m drained. The long walk down one ridge, alonganother ridge, and up a third ridge to camp took tremendouseffort.

This was my third such solo in my life, and each providedunique challenges. The first I attempted while I was buildingtrails in California five years ago. I hadn’t a clue what I was


doing, and after staying awake for thirty-six hours, I managedto persuade myself that it wasn’t the right time for me to solo.As a result, I stopped and returned to camp. The mind plays ter-rible tricks; I would have liked to have stuck out the duration.

My second solo was in a remote corner of Utah and pro-vided wonderful wildlife experiences and deep insights intothen-current decisions; I went ahead and acted on every one ofthem. I was ready for my mind to try to tell me I wasn’t pre-pared and talk me out of the experience, and therefore recog-nized and did not acknowledge those particular mentalobstacles. But food became a concern and distraction. I thoughtabout every item I wanted to eat and about the meal I plannedto have when I reached a nearby town.

This time, it was the duration that challenged me. Timeseemed to pass so slowly. Yet, in retrospect, the experienceseemed to have zipped by.

I’ll start from the beginning. I strolled up the long, brokenlogging road holding a bundle of clothes and water. Wildlifeabounded along the way, from shrews to birds to deer. I willattempt to keep from being anthropomorphic, but the animalsdid seem to behave differently that afternoon.

There was a buck in the trail as I turned a bend. He lookedin my direction and stepped just off-trail. He stared at me as Iapproached. He must have known I was a human, becausewithout pause, I walked closer and closer. I also looked himstraight in the eye, an act that usually sends animals fleeing. Notthis one. His large, deep, dark eyes held my stare. His moist,black eyes and nose shone; his ears were held erect below beau-tiful antlers in velvet. His entire head was accented by the sun,which made the scene even more stunning and surreal.

When I was about fifteen feet away, I wanted to stop. Mymind said I’d scare off the buck if I stopped, but I did any-way. We stared at each other. I said “thanks” aloud, as hisbehavior seemed so out of place that I counted it as a gift.The deer was undaunted by my pause less than ten feet awayand watched me go up the trail. Perhaps I was putting out adifferent vibe or intention as I approached my solo spot, and


the animals were able to pick up on the shift.Just around the next bend I came upon a flock of wild

turkeys. Anyone who knows turkeys knows that at the slightestwhiff or sight of people, they are off like bullets. They either runalong the forest floor or crash through the canopy, their massivewings and bodies colliding with as many branches as possible.I wonder how they don’t hurt themselves.

Not this flock. They moved to the upside of the trail andturned to watch as I passed. Sunlight accented the red and blueskin of the massive gobbler as he eyed me. He held his headhigh, jerking it to the left to follow me up the trail. It was a goodstart to be sure.

Throughout most of the solo, I simply thought. I thoughtabout my questions, and when I felt I was done with them, Ithought about the past and future. For the whole summer, Ihave explored the physical environment, but here I explored myinner self. It’s sort of like dealing with old clothes. You sort outwhat belongs to you from what belongs to other people and toour culture (realize that not every thought in your head is trulyyours—many are thrust upon you without your taking the timeto really decide whether you agree with them). Then you choosewhat still remains useful. If it’s still good, you clean it off andneatly put it somewhere you can find it again. Here’s an exam-ple. “Yes, animal tracking still feeds me and I do it because Iwant to.” So I keep that one. If it’s old and ugly or no longer use-ful, you get rid of it. Guilt is often a product of trying to live ina way that pleases other people. My way of dealing with guilt isto seek it, make peace with it, then toss it out. All of this is aninternal cleansing process, a refurbishing act that brings clarityto your purpose and actions.

Perhaps the belief system with which I struggled most wasthis idea of “following your path.” The concept of followingyour path is not my own, but one I’ve acquired somewhere inyears past. It has a Buddhist ring to it, but as I sit with what itmeans to me, it seems more related to New Age movements andpsychotherapy. Do we each have a purpose? Do we each have alife path? I don’t know. It would certainly be easier to believe we


do, because then everything could be divided into right andwrong—either contributing to the path, or working against it.But dichotomies worry me, and I still have many questions. Ibelieve each of us is special. I believe in following my heart, andit does seem as if opportunities align when I do so. Life justseems easier when I remain true to myself. Perhaps this is whatis meant by staying on one’s path.

I also absorbed the natural environment. When I sit for anextended period in nature, something happens. While moving,I often witness nature in reaction to myself. I see little of thewildlife, and what I do see is running away. Sitting over timeallows the natural rhythm of the forest to resume around me,and I am allowed a privileged view of natural cycles at work.

My first dawn brought all sorts of wildlife. The cardinalstarted singing very early and was eventually joined by the pee-wee, followed by the rest. A doe came upon me very early, whenthe light was so low the air appeared thick, like soup. She sawme and began the ritualistic snorts, stamps, and false charges.Eventually, she passed by. I watched the dark silhouette of agreat horned owl fly south just overhead to roost for the day.But what excited me the most was above me on the ridge.

The alarm calls of birds brought my attention uphill to see afisher looking at me. We didn’t look at each other long before thefisher loped, in typical mustelid fashion, up a log lying with theslope of the hill. Then it was gone. Fishers are just returning tothis area. To see one here, where they are rare, was a real gift.Actually, it’s only the third time I’ve ever seen a fisher in the wild.

The first time is a story worth telling. I was living in south-ern New Hampshire at the time, in a rural area along a very nar-row road. During the snow season, I followed my animalneighbors four to five days each week. Whatever trail I beganwith, I switched to those of fishers as soon as I crossed their trails.

Nobody walked this land I tracked, which consisted of pri-vate lots, a granite quarry, an abandoned railroad line, and apoorly managed tree farm with a few beaver ponds, streams,and natural ponds. Yet, wildlife abounded. One mile up theroad, in the “nature reserve,” a scenic spot with a large pond and


picnic tables, I’d venture to say one-fifth of the wildlife activityoccurred. (If those making decisions back in the day had prac-ticed tracking, perhaps I’d have been tracking in the reserve,and the rock quarry would have been up the way.)

I followed the fishers for many hours and many miles. Ilearned so much. There were two females within my range, andtheir trails did not overlap. There also was a massive male thatroamed the entire area. The male was so large, his track dimen-sions were larger than every published parameter I’ve read. Thismale was the animal whose trail I followed relentlessly.

In the beginning, I noticed the fisher held relationshipswith three kinds of animals: raccoons, porcupines, and red fox.It was these animals the fisher scented and followed for shortdurations. It is a common misconception that fishers livealmost entirely on porcupines. I remember a working natural-ist assuring me I hadn’t tracked a fisher on the hill in his townin New York. He said I had been mistaken, as there were no por-cupines in his area. He was right about the porcupines.

However, I often see signs of fishers scenting, following, andkilling raccoons, and this fisher was no exception. He also keptin touch with a large porcupine, which lived fifty yards from hisden. Fifty yards separated two boulder jumbles; one housed apair of fishers and the other a porcupine. The fisher constantlyentered the porcupine den, circled the boulders, and left scat onthe rock in the middle of the den. This would all happen whilethe porcupine was present. The first time I saw this, I expectedto enter and find porcupine remains scattered about, butinstead, I was chased out by the porcupine. I’ve been revisitingthe area for several years now, and the two animals continue tobe neighbors.

My fisher also heavily scented red-fox trails. These two ani-mals had an unusual relationship. Both would raid each other’scaches when opportunities presented themselves. I also trackedthe male fisher chasing the local red fox, which narrowlyescaped. Fishers are known to kill fox, but I also know peoplewho have watched a red fox fight off a fisher. Apparently, thereis no sure winner if the two species tangle.


I followed this male fisher for months, finding and pickingapart caches in trees and buried under snow. I tracked him afterhe’d taken one of the neighbor’s chickens, as well as cats, rac-coons, grouse, hares, and gray, red, and flying squirrels. Fishersare perfectly engineered for hunting; their rear feet are able toturn 180 degrees, which enables them to run up and down treesat the same speed. No one is safe.

After about a month of tracking this animal, he took inter-est in a fourth animal species. He began to scent and follow myold trails as he crossed them. We had entered into a relation-ship. We were both taking notice of the other on a regular basis.I knew his patterns and whereabouts, and I have no doubt thathe knew mine.

During the winter, I was enrolled in night classes fournights a week. Each night, I’d drive along and reach my littlewinding road where I knew the fisher crossed on a regular basis.I’d turn the radio off, turn on the high beams, and think,“Maybe tonight’s the night—the night I’ll see my fisher.” Myactions became so ritualized I began to wonder if they hadbecome a hindrance to seeing the fisher. So, I’d approach theroad and think, “Don’t say tonight’s the night,” which of coursemeant it was already too late. I was in a serious rut.

One night, no different from the rest, I approached myturn. I said to myself, “Try not to think about it,” which meantI already had. I reached for the radio, which hummed softly inthe background, and thought, “Don’t worry about the radio.He’ll hear the car, not the radio.” So, I left it on. When I turnedonto my road and the forest came in close, arching in from bothsides, I felt it. My gut, my intuition, twinged, and I knew some-thing was different. It wasn’t the sort of knowing that comesfrom the head. I drove, more aware than ever. I had been told tonotice something. All the way down the road, winding arounduntil I reached the gate of my driveway, I waited patiently.Nothing. I couldn’t believe it. That particular feeling had neverfailed me before.

I turned into the long, wide, gravel drive, which sloped upat the far end. The drive was surrounded on the left by the


house, and horse fields lay straight ahead and to the right. As Iturned in, something jumped in front of the car. It loped up thedrive in front of me and ran up the hill at the far end. I did notthink; I allowed my body to absorb recognition. The animal ranalong the top of the incline and into the horse fields. I keptturning, keeping the beautiful, loping fisher in my headlights,and watched as he faded into darkness to my right. I found histracks on my steps.

That is what tracking is all about—gaining a relationshipwith wild creatures and connecting on a level deeper than intel-lect and logic. It took time, but I earned that relationship andeventually a private sighting of the animal itself. He’d never vis-ited the horse fields before, and he never visited again for theremainder of winter, at least as far as I know.

My solo spot lay within a cusp between bird habitats on thehillside. The rose-breasted grosbeaks flew low on the hill, andthe scarlet tanagers generally stayed high. There, I watchedboth, as well as mingling orioles, all of which provided colorfulfeasts for the eyes. Birds are curious creatures and come close toinspect what’s odd and new in their environment. They wouldhop on branches, coming closer and closer to inspect me,reaching five or six feet away. They took turns—first the hairywoodpecker, then the black-and-white warblers, the ovenbirds,the juncos, the chickadees, the flickers—the list goes on and on.I enjoyed those moments when the birds were so close I couldreally admire their beauty.

The scarlet tanager varied the routine. The male spotted mefrom afar and began to approach. He came to the edge of mycircle and inspected me thoroughly. Then he flew off and I satalone for a few minutes. He reappeared with his mate and theyboth gave me a thorough inspection. These two birds did every-thing together. Where one sang or fed, the other was surelynearby. They were a lesson in commitment—a lesson I felt Ineeded to learn.

I was sitting and watching as one dusk settled upon thelandscape when I was pulled from my thoughts by the rapidapproach of alarming robins. I looked up and watched as a


female great horned owl landed on a branch not twenty feetaway. It was still light, and I was able to admire this striking birdwith her brilliant oranges, rusts, browns, and creams. Herincredible feathered talons gripped the branch. Unfortunately, asmall sprig of hemlock blurred her face, and I began to cranemy neck to gain a better view. The owl also spotted my move-ment and began to crane her neck to better inspect me. Both ofus tried to be subtle.

Finally, she’d had enough craning. She dropped off herperch, which was level with my head, and glided directly at me.She turned about five feet from my head, one wing facing theearth, the other the sky. Her talons pointed and flexed towardme, and her intense eyes scrutinized me up and down. She hungthere, suspended for a moment with one wing up and the otherdown, then silently flapped north along the ridge. No doubt mymouth hung open and my eyes were wide.


Jon Young once told me how to decipher whether crowsyou hear are harassing a red-tailed hawk or a great horned owlby listening to the movement of their calls. If they suddenlydrop off, aiming downward, the bird of prey dropped off itsroost, which is typical behavior of great horned owls. Should

the calls rise and become louder, they are following a hawk,which launches up and out. It was crystal clear this evening.Even from as low as ten feet, as the owl dropped, the raucousrobins followed, and there was a quick dropoff in their calls.

I spent time on my solo also watching and connecting witha male rufous-sided towhee. I knew each of his calls and thefeeding circuit he followed. One time I was lying flat, and thebird was feeding so close, I could see my own reflection in hisruby red eyes.

A small raptor appeared to perch on a low snag at the topof the drainage in which I sat. I couldn’t quite make it out—merlin or sharp-shinned hawk? It sat for perhaps fifteen min-utes, then swooped down directly at my head. It spread itswings, tail, and talons right before my eyes and landed not fourfeet behind me, taking my rufous-sided towhee away. Thetowhee made one last call, a call I hadn’t heard before, and thenthere was silence. I was deeply disturbed and became absolutelycertain that I or someone close to me was going to die. (But noone close to me died, and I can chuckle to myself now.)


Rawhide and SinewRawhide is animal skin that hasmerely had the flesh side scraped toremove any fat and meat left onduring the skinning process. Thehair is often removed as well. Raw-hide is great for making lashings;hard cases for items like bonehooks, needles, or pemmican; shoesoles; cordage; and more. The greatvalue of rawhide is that when it iswet, it is elastic and can be tied

around objects like the head of astone hammer or snowshoes. As itdries, it shrinks and hardens. Ofcourse, the reverse is also true.When rawhide gets wet, it softensand stretches. Methods for protect-ing rawhide from the effects ofmoisture will be addressed shortly.

To make rawhide, you will need agreen (fresh), or soaked wet hide,which can be prepared using either


the racked hide method *(dryscrape) or the skinned log method(wet scrape).

RACKED HIDE METHODRacking a hide is merely a way ofsupporting a hide within an externalframework, like an artist framing acanvas. Most commonly, four polesare laid out on the ground in a rec-tangle and lashed at the corners.

11. Size the poles so there is a one-foot margin between the hideand the rack all around; this willallow for stretching.

12. Place the hide, while it is stillgreen, in the middle of theframework, and make holes inthe edges about every threeinches or less and about one


and one-half inches in from theedge. All holes should be a one-half-inch slit parallel to the near-est edge.

13. To be sure the hide is centeredin the rack, tie the four cornersfirst—not tightly, just snugly fornow.

14. Lace the hide to the rack bystarting at the bottom. (To makeyour own lacing material, see“Cordage,” page 198.)

15. Tie the lacing or cordage to theframe, then run it through thecorresponding hole in the hideand back to the frame again.

16. Continue this process all theway around the hide, lashingeach side more tightly than thelast so that the fourth side tight-ens the hide. As it dries it willtigten further and become

drum-like. Be careful not toovertighten or the holes in thehide may tear out.

17. Due to stretching, you will needto snug up some of the lashingsduring the scraping process. Itis also advisable when lacing torun all ties from the back of thehide to the back of the frame,around the frame to the front,thence through the hole in thefront of the hide. This will keepthe hide on a single plane ratherthan having one tie pulling thehide toward the back of theframe and the next tie pullingtoward the front.


18. Lean the racked hide against atree and, starting with the stakescraper (see “Making Camp,”page 32) perpendicular to thehide, scrape downward fromthe neck. All flesh and fatshould peel away and run downthe hide. Be careful not to slidethe scraper sideways and slicethe hide.

19. To remove the hair, soak thehide in water until the hair“slips” (comes out when gentlypulled). Soak times vary. Incold, clear, flowing water, it cantake three weeks. In a bucket ofwater, changed once daily, it

Dry scraping

takes half that time or less.Water containing a lot of tan-nins (such as from boilingacorns) makes the time evenshorter.

10. Once the hair slips, the aboveprocess can be repeated for thehair side of the hide. I prefer tosoak hides until the hair slipsprior to fleshing. This helps meavoid having to rack the hidetwice. Once the hair isremoved, the hide can be driedand stored indefinitely. It’srawhide ready to go.

SKINNED LOG METHODYou will need a smooth, peeled logand a broad scraper (see “MakingCamp,” page 32).


1. Lay the hide hair side down onthe log, leaving a bit of the hidehanging over one raised end.

2. Leaning against the log, pinchingthe overhanging hide between thelog and your body, scrape down-ward, using the scraper like asqueegee. All fat and meatshould run down the hide.

3. Work your way from side to sideon the top portion, then pull thehide further up the beam andcontinue until you are done.

WORKING WITH RAWHIDETo make lashings or laces, you cancut a circle from the hide, then cut acontinuous spiral into it like you arepeeling an apple without breakingthe skin. One effective method is to

Wet scraping

stick a knife in a log and, whilegrasping the disk in both hands, pullit into the blade in a spiral pattern.To use the lashings, soak them untilthey are elastic (a few hours), tiethem, and let them dry. If the lash-ings get wet, they will loosen andbe pliable again. One method forlessening this effect of moisture isto tie one end of the wet rawhide toa tree, stretch it taught, tie the otherend to another tree, and let therawhide dry.

Some waterproofing is possiblefor binding items like hammerheadsthat need to remain tight: Coverthem with a light layer of pine pitchand sprinkle the pitch with ash.

SINEWSinew or tendon is found on thelegs or along the back straps of


animals (the long muscles on eitherside of the spine). Let me use adeer as an example. In a deer’slegs, there is a white, flexible bun-dle on the back side of the legbones. Smaller bundles can also befound on the front side.

Cutting lashings

Deer leg sinew

In the back, sinew is on the sur-face of the muscle, is more silver incolor, and is flat instead of in abundle.

Harvest the back sinew as youwould skin a section of hide. Legsinew just needs to be cut out, andthe clear sheath needs to beremoved (done by slicing length-wise, then opening the bundle andpulling out the fiber bundles).


Hang harvested sinew to dry in aspot out of direct sunlight. Whendry, the sinew should be beatenbetween a smooth rock and a pieceof wood or chewed to separate thefibers. Once it is partially separated,rub it briskly between your hands tofinish the job. The fibers are nowready to be twisted into cordage orused as thread.

Perhaps it was a lesson about routines. In a short time, I hadcompletely memorized the towhee’s feeding routine. Manyteachers discuss falling into routines, or “ruts,” when we operateautomatically—driving, walking, eating, sleeping, marrying,and raising children without paying attention. Yet our modernsociety seems to encourage the creation of “ruts.” Perhaps thedeath of the towhee was a reminder not to become attached? Orperhaps the towhee would have been killed regardless ofwhether I was present or not, and the “lesson” is just gibberishI’ve made up in my head.

The animals I watched most were my immediate neighbors,a family of southern red-backed voles. I’d never seen a red-backed vole in the wild. I had only read about how much timethey spend underground and had looked at drawings and pho-tos. This family spent a great deal of time running about aboveground. They used fallen logs as highways, quickly covering dis-tances in search of mushrooms. They’d chop the massive mush-rooms into little pieces to begin with and make numerous tripsback and forth to their holes. When a manageable chunkremained, they’d carry the whole thing along their log highwaysback to their burrows.

They were beautiful creatures. Once, in the middle of theday, I looked over to investigate a rustle of leaves. A vole was


perched on a log, back lit perfectly by the sun, looking at me. Itsrusty fur gleamed in the sun and quivered in the breeze. Itsrounded ears were accented by the backlight, while its blackeyes studied me. The vole looked like a miniature pika, a smalllagomorph, which I spent time observing exactly this time lastyear in the Cascade Mountains.

You think and think out there until you can think no more.As the third day ended, my mind stopped. It broke down, I sup-pose, or ran out of things to ponder. It didn’t last long at first,but I was able to call upon this state for the remainder of thesolo. I sat without thought, just existing, absorbing my place.Perhaps it was then that I was truly living in the moment.

These precious experiences were the goal of fasting and sit-ting. When the commentator in the back of my mind stops,when I don’t have to name every birdcall and track, I feel morepeaceful and present. These moments also provide the greatestinsights. Perhaps I’m just suddenly able to hear what some partof me knew and was trying to communicate all along. It’s inthese moments you just decide what to do or know the answerto some question, or very often a new set of questions emergesto replace the old.

I was happy to also see a female fawn on my solo trip. Shewandered through and bedded down about twenty yards fromme. Here, where I had taken a fawn, another was thriving. Onthe last day, the fawn walked right up to my area. We spent anawkward ten minutes as the fawn decided what to do about thisnew and unusual lump leaning against the chestnut oak in herarea. She was stunning—very healthy indeed. Her coat had ayouthful sheen, her eyes the innocence of life. With the alarm ofa hairy woodpecker, she’d had enough and moved back downthe ridge. I wished her well.

I planned and thought about my future through andthrough. How would things work out? Where do survival skillsand American Sign Language fit into my future? The largestunknown was Kayla. What would she choose to do? But this timemade it very clear that our relationship would require our fullcommitment if it were to continue to blossom. We needed to


support and enjoy each other as we both stumbled into careers.There is one last wildlife observation worth mentioning.

John McCarter, friend and tracker, and I have been studyingsquirrel marking behaviors. We believed we had differentiatedcertain gray squirrel signs from red squirrel signs on trees. I hadwitnessed two counts of gray squirrels working on verticalchewed stripes on tree trunks. We strongly believed red squir-rels created similar stripes along the dead, lower branches ofdominant conifers. Yet, neither of us had witnessed their cre-ation. That is, until now.

The hemlock I watched stood at the corner of two red-squirrel home ranges. I watched one chase the other away, thenvisit the tree. It walked out on the branch, a typical location forchewed stripes I had seen in the past, and slowly began to smell.The procedure was smell, bite, smell, and bite, again and again,and then the red squirrel was off. I watched this squirrel returnto check this branch every so often over the four days, slowlysmelling the branch’s entirety before heading off. I was thrilled.Finally, I had verification of our beliefs. There is still so much tounderstand.

I felt guilty about killing mosquitoes when I was sitting outthere. I was there to give and give, yet I took and took. It was agreat relief to discover that the carpenter ants were carryingdead mosquitoes back to their nest. For hours, I watched theants find and carry the mosquitoes away. From then on, I putthe squashed bloodsuckers closer to the ants. Nothing out hereis wasted; everything is recycled back into the system.

Then it was time to return to camp. As I sat against my oaktree near the fire circle, it was difficult to “sum up” what wasrevealed during this solo. It’s as if what you receive is in code,and it takes time to translate into what the conscious mindunderstands. But several things were clear. First, my relation-ship with Kayla was stalled by my inability to commit fully; Iwas afraid of taking the next step. Second, I felt confirmed inmy feelings that this experience would be an end to my study-ing survival skills, or at least for some time. But now, I did notfeel guilty or strange about it. I was ready to fully embrace a new


life and devote myself fully to studying and researching animaltracking. Perhaps it would be in tracking that I’d have some-thing to contribute. I also knew that I no longer wanted to teachkids—I felt more like an entertainer than a teacher. So manyfolks pressure me into teaching wilderness skills to young peo-ple and preach that this is how to save the earth from humandestruction. “Not to teach young people is to turn one’s back onthe future of the planet,” they say. Well, I’m glad to be rid of thatmanipulative train of thought, as well as the guilt I was feelingfor wanting to move on to new things. There are numerousways to contribute to conservation.

I was still not sure how American Sign Language would fitinto my future, but I knew that I loved the practice and the peo-ple and would continue to participate in the community. And ifI wasn’t sure before, I was certain now that I would do every-thing in my power to avoid working at a job I didn’t like. I didnot want to end up living only for the weekends. My heart woulddecide where I worked, and it would be in a field I enjoyed.

Day 45

I returned last evening to a wonderful meal. Trout and wildpears were offered, which I’d requested. I relished their flavorsand textures. David and Mike had also been modernized in myabsence; both were clean shaven and fresh back from town.They added cheese and bread and a bakery-fresh cookie to mybark slab. I ate well.

Today was for reflection, journal writing, and a last bit ofwandering. Mike and I found a perfect deer skull, with everytooth still intact; there wasn’t even any sign of rodents gnawingthe bone. Mike said I should take it, which I did.

Tomorrow morning we leave for Mike’s house to havesmoothies and, if our shrunken stomachs allow, waffles withfruit. Kayla, too, will be waiting. Our time here has come to aclose.

Our camp, set into a western slope, did not allow for proper


appreciation of sun or moon rises. Out and about this evening,we watched the moon rise over our hill. The moon was full, thenight clear. The moon hung low in the sky, a massive yellowball, a mellow hue. As it rose, it became brighter and brighteruntil it was difficult to look directly into its face. A few smallclouds passed through. So light were the clouds and so brightthe moon, the clouds appeared to pass behind the moon andmove away. The moon was stunning; out here I was so aware ofits cycles.

We strolled up familiar trails and reached camp. My lastnight in my debris hut. I’ll miss its conforming comfort andcoziness.

Day 46

I awoke, comfortably cool in my debris hut. The time to moveon had arrived. I began to return my shelter to the earth, scat-tering debris and sticks randomly. I thanked my spot. Therewere things to look forward to, and there was so much I wouldregret leaving behind. I piled my accumulated wealth in a bas-ket of pine roots and began to wander down the hill.

Kayla was waiting for us where we stepped from meadow togravel. We had too many stories to start gibbering away; overtime, they would all emerge. Each of us weighed ourselves. I hadlost twenty-two pounds, Mike fifteen, and David two. We then


gorged on waffles and fruit. And just as when David’s girlfriendhad visited, I was knocked out by eating modern foods. I felt ill,yet Mike, once again, was energized from overeating. Suchdifferent bodies we have.

It has become clear how my body reacts to modern foods. Ifeel bloated and lethargic for many hours after a meal. My bodyalso begins to overheat, which contributes to the feelings ofnausea and potential vomiting. All this and more, I experiencedfrom the end of the meal to the evening, culminating in mylaying in a fetal position, poised to be sick.

I think the problem may lay in the complexity of foods.Over the summer, we ate meat, or meat and greens, or meat,carbohydrates, and greens. We didn’t mix and match, combin-ing ten to twelve items at one time. Read a label for waffle bat-ter and you’ll know what I mean. We’ll see how long thesefeelings last.

My vehicle still worked and started up without problems.Slipping behind the wheel was not difficult, and I was off forhome. Kayla had gone ahead of me. I hadn’t driven more thanfive minutes when a black Monte Carlo loomed in my rearviewmirror. I could feel the driver’s tension in my own neck andshoulders. A deep breath and I was able to protect myself fromhis stress. I pulled over to let him roar past.

When I first started to drive again, I kept to just belowposted speeds; it felt fast enough. I’d like to say this lasted for-ever, or at least a week, but the truth is, within an hour I hadslipped into speeding along with the others in transit.

I have, however, so far managed to keep from becomingstressed. I still have nowhere to be and no time to be there. Idrove and moved as the road and conditions allowed.

Kayla arrived home ahead of me. Our cabin was barren, asour possessions were stored in the basement so that we couldsublet the place while we were both away. A stack of mailawaited our return, and in it a dreaded bill: $832. I put all themail away and relaxed. Too much reality, too quickly. I’d look atthe mail in a few days, bit by bit.

We decided to sleep in a tent.


A Few Days Later

I’ve been reflecting on our summer. Although we did eat pizzaand Leah brought us a meal, I’m not concerned that we weren’tas strict as we planned to be at the start of the experience. It wasan important lesson in letting go and allowing the experience tobecome what it was; it was also a reminder than we are and for-ever will be students of the natural world, and not experts.

Mike and I are confident we had achieved what we set outto do—we were neither dependent upon modern foods normodern technologies, excepting knives and clothes, for our sur-vival. Rather, we had survived off the land and learned inde-scribable amounts about survival, primitive skills, and ourselvesin the process. We realized there would have been much work tocomplete before we would have been able to continue throughthe winter, including the arduous tasks of storing foods andmaking winter clothes. It was because we weren’t planning tostay away that long that our summer was so carefree.

If one word could be used to express what we did this sum-mer, it would be “roam.” This word incorporates the freedomwith which we moved. I’ve thought of animals roaming, butuntil now, never people. We had no place to be and no scheduleto keep. It was this ultimate freedom that I will miss.

Many teachers around the world say that if you touch realtruth, you can never go back to living any other way. This sum-mer, I touched real freedom, and I now find myself comparingeverything in society to what I had this summer. Life will neverbe the same.

I cherish the pace to which my body and mind slowed, andI can only hope to hold onto it as I dive back into a hecticschedule of work and school. I will still walk in the woods. I willsit behind the farm where I live and absorb nature. I will stilltrack animals and create hand-drill fires.

I’ve been full since I left the woods about five days ago. I nolonger feel sick after every meal, but I’m always rather uncom-fortably bloated. Now that I’ve eaten all the meals I hoped to,


perhaps I’ll allow my stomach to finish one project before I giveit another. And I must mention something I’ve been told by sev-eral reliable sources since exiting the woods: One should neverend a fast or an experience such as ours with a massive meal ofcomplex foods. The shock to your body can be dramatic and mayeven be fatal. We’re lucky we didn’t die! Experts say to start withsimple foods, such as broths and fruits and such, and then grad-ually work up to a modern-day meal over several days.

10 Days Later

Time is moving slowly back into my life. As I look back at oursummer, the closest thing to time I witnessed was in the passingof the berry crops we foraged. When I think of berries, I thinkof my grandfather, who passed away several years ago. He gath-ered blackberries and raspberries every year, and I used to placemounds of vanilla ice cream on those piles of berries during myvisits. My grandfather was a remarkable naturalist. We wouldtake long walks through the countryside and he’d tell stories,teach me about flowers and birds, and recite poetry about wildcreatures. His passion and support may be the reason I took thejourney this summer. He may have been the inspiration behindmy love for the natural world. It may be my grandfather towhom I owe thanks for my ability to truly discover myself.

Thank you, Daddidar.


Blackberry

Epilogue

Much has changed in the decade since Mike, David, and I under-took this adventure. Mike has married and has two sons, two exu-berant black labs, and a house in rural New York. He continues topractice wilderness living skills and tests them in natural settings.Mike now runs his own educational programs under his company,Woodland Ways, teaching wilderness survival skills to children andadults. He did quit smoking.

David continued to practice survival skills but slowly transi-tioned into modern pottery and new crafts. I’ve lost touch with himin recent years but wish him well wherever he might be.

After our summer, I practiced survival skills less and less;instead, I devoted my life to animal tracking. I do miss making firesand primitive shelters; perhaps someday those skills will play alarger role. Kayla and I separated a year after the experience, and ithas been many years since I’ve seen her. She married someone else.

I’ve spent years reflecting on our adventure, for it remainsamong the most powerful experiences in my life. After so manyyears, our time in the woods continues to shape who I am, how Ithink, and what I do. It will remain a reservoir of strength and peacefrom which I can draw during hectic times in my life, or when Ineed a boost. Living survival also allowed us to glimpse certaintruths. I will never think of time and schedules in the same way; wetrick ourselves into believing we must follow culturally imposedtimetables and expectations. I will never look at berries and trout inthe same way, or food markets and plastic-wrapped, processed

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resources. And I am more comfortable with myself than ever before.Thinking back on our summer makes me smile. I regret nothing.And I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Our summer in survival was a turning point in my life. Theexperience taught me much about letting go and going with theflow. Most of all, I learned about energy efficiency. Efficiency is pre-dominant on your mind when you live in a survival situation. Youcannot afford to waste energy; every action must have purpose. I’vecarried that lesson from the woods, and it has made my life easier;it has governed my decision-making and focused my intentions andbehaviors. Our summer also taught me much about the relation-ship between function and purpose.

I had some initial trepidation about releasing a journal writtenso many years ago, because in some ways I’ve changed so much, andI was concerned about misrepresenting who I am today. When Ireread my journal this past year, I became aware that the words Iused to describe certain scenarios, to offer thanks and talk of spiritwere not my own. They were taught to me by those who led theworkshops on survival skills which I attended, most of whom hadnever taken a survival trip themselves. It’s taken me years to realizethat at times in my journal, I expressed myself unnaturally; I wrotein a language and about certain concepts because I thought I wassupposed to. For instance, at that time I unconsciously believed thatgood people gave thanks frequently and bad people did not. Nearlyten years later, I feel that good and bad are not helpful labels at all.

Survival schools, like tracking schools, can be split into two largecategories. One group emphasizes form over function, meaning anemphasis on an experience which provides an avenue for self dis-covery, connection with place and/or a spiritual path. Mastery ofsurvival skills is secondary. The second group emphasizes functionover form—the practical of skills which keep you alive in naturalenvironments. When we undertook our adventure, I was naïve tothis division, and to the fact that I was a product of the schoolswhich interwove spiritual dogma with survival skills.

For example, during our summer we found that working withpine pitch and building bark containers were two critical skillsneeded for our survival. Yet I knew of no school at the time which


taught those particular skills. Most taught how to build containerswhich require too much energy to create, or relied on materials thatcouldn’t be found under normal conditions—cut rounds of wood,for example. Without a metal saw, it’s very difficult to find roundsof wood in a natural setting. The courses we attended prior to ouradventure were also filled with unnecessary rituals and routines. Yetthe leap Mike, David, and I took when we attempted to utilize theskills in an actual survival setting forced us to prioritize functionbefore form, and to refine skills and behaviors in such ways as topromote energy efficiency.

As I shifted my emphasis to the application of primitive skills ina survival situation and the application of wildlife tracking in mon-itoring and research, my relationships with nature, people, and lan-guage began to evolve. I’m still thankful for life, but I no longer needto voice it all the time. Rituals have dissolved into direct experience.And whereas during our summer I still struggled with really know-ing that we as humans are as equally connected to natural systemsas coyotes and deer, I feel that now. Even prayer seems unnecessarywhen remaining true to yourself; active participation in natural sys-tems seems prayer enough.

You might say I’ve switched “camps” in the last ten years withregards to primitive skills and animal tracking schools. For now Ipromote function before form; in this way form is dictated by rateof success. If a skill doesn’t find animals, make fires under any cir-cumstance, keep you warm, feed you, or answer some purpose, thenwhy practice it? To practice survival and tracking skills which do notwork, or lack application, is to lose the very skills we seek to protectand practice.

Application is of paramount importance in keeping these skillsreal and useful; application also keeps our egos from making theskills into something they aren’t.

What is the purpose of learning survival skills if not to applythem in natural settings? That is their function. Yes, the beneficialbyproducts of practicing survival and tracking skills are endless,and their educational value for children and adults is indisputable.Yet survival skills evolved with humankind through countlessgenerations of humans living as hunter-gatherers. That’s what these


skills are for, and thus in their application are revealed true insightsinto what it means to be human, to be animal.

Some folks argue that one should learn survival skills to plan forworst case scenarios, but they should not be practiced without direneed. This is fear-based thinking, and in my opinion the polaropposite of what these skills are truly about—survival and trackingskills are about embracing living, not fearing death.

We killed many animals during our summer, but never flip-pantly or for pleasure. After ten years, I have this to say: Survival inthe natural ecosystems of the northeast of North America is impos-sible without killing animals. A vegetarian existence is a luxuryborne of modern convenience and privilege. And even as a vegetar-ian or vegan, you still kill plants, fungi, and other life forms. To denythat you are responsible for deaths every day is to deny your con-nection to natural systems; it is an illusion. Yet conscious participa-tion in natural systems won’t make you mean or cold-hearted. Itjust makes you honest, which often stimulates humility. Death isnatural. Be thankful for life.

During our summer we also disregarded every law to do withhunting and fishing. We are not proud of breaking laws, but it wasa necessary step in order to experience what we did. It was never ourintention to undermine a system which fosters conservation.Practicing primitive hunting and fishing techniques requires you tobreak most current hunting and fishing regulations, and killinggame animals out of season is poaching. We wanted to experiencesurvival; we ate what we killed and tried our best to be respectful.Judge us as you will. Today Mike and I support hunting and fishinglaws, recognize their importance and respect those who are modelsof excellent hunting and fishing etiquette. Yet I will also add thatwhen I question the function behind specific laws, I’m not alwayssure of their purpose. Are they to conserve natural resources, mini-mize the possibility of people being injured, and protect animalsfrom inhumane deaths? Or, are they about making money andexerting government control? Are the laws helping to protect andfoster hunting, trapping, and fishing in American culture, or topolarize viewpoints and create divisions in voter polls and regionalpopulations? I think it’s a combination of all these things. Hunting


should never be allowed to become a red versus blue debate.But perhaps the greatest question of all is this: Did Mike and I

succeed in surviving that summer? Did two slices of pizza, a hand-ful of granola, and a portion of Leah’s Mexican pie provide thenutritional needs required to fuel my body for forty-six days in thewoods while building shelters, wandering, and weathering stormsand cold fronts? I would argue that I would not have walked out ofthe woods as healthy as I did if that were all I had eaten. Thoughinconsistent with our original goals, we adapted, we let go of expec-tations, and we ended the experience feeling we had achieved alifestyle which was not dependent upon modern society. We also letgo of our concerns over how you the readers would judge ourinconsistencies, preferring instead to tell a story of learning ratherthan expertise. Our summer was nothing short of amazing, and thegreatest gift we could have given ourselves. I also believe that itmarked my transition into manhood.

I hope you, too, will be generous enough to award yourselvesyour own adventures, whatever form they may take. Practice yourskills, take short trips, and bring a sleeping bag as backup. Slowlytransition into a longer, less technology-dependent experience.Then do us all a favor and rejoin us to tell your stories. The loosecommunity of those who have an interest in survival skills will ben-efit from real tales filled with mistakes and laughter. Mike and Ibelieve achievable stories are the most inspirational.


APPENDIX

WILDERNESS LIVING AND SURVIVAL SCHOOLS

There are numerous schools that provide workshops for wildernessliving and survival skills in North America and beyond. Thomas J.Elpel teaches wilderness skills at Hollowtop Outdoor PrimitiveSchool in Montana and runs a website where schools may post theircontact information. With his permission, we’ve reprinted that listhere. He warned us that at any given time 5% to 10% of the infor-mation is likely incorrect due to people constantly moving, startingand stopping programs, and other variables. With this in mind, itmight be worth checking the school list on his website athttp://www.hollowtop.com/schools.htm. We should also mentionthat each school will have its own character, strengths, and weak-nesses and likely will teach a limited set of skills. Shop around asyou consider taking workshops and ask lots of questions to makesure you find the school that is best suited to your personal goals.Enjoy.

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WITHIN THE UNITED STATES

Alabama

Randall’s Adventure TrainingMike Perrin PO Box 51Blaine, TN [email protected]

Arizona

Aboriginal Living Skills School, LLCCody LundinPO Box 3064Prescott, AZ [email protected]

http://www.hollowtop.com/schools.htm

Arizona (continued)

Ancient Pathways, LLCTony Nester1931 E. AndesFlagstaff, AZ [email protected]

Arizona Outdoor InstituteDave Ganci4753 GloriaPrescott, AZ [email protected]

Native American Self-AwarenessInstitute

Dr. John StandingbearHoopingarner & Molly Swan

2422 N. 72nd PlaceScottsdale, AZ 85257480-970-8811

Randy Kinkade141 W. Forrest FeezorCorona, AZ [email protected]

Raven’s Way Traditional SchoolVince PintoPO Box 16261Portal, AZ 85632520-403-5085

Reevis Mountain SchoolPeter BigfootHC 02, Box 1534Roosevelt, AZ 85545520-467-2675


Arkansas

Cedar Creek Nature StudiesRandy & Susie Teague1796 Cedar Creek RoadHot Springs, AR [email protected]

California

Earth-HeartMalcom & Deborah RingwaltPO Box 926Topanga, CA [email protected]

Headwaters SchoolTim CorcoranPO Box 1698Santa Cruz, CA [email protected]

Lifesong Wilderness Adventures(Classes in northern California)Mark Wienert Jr.PO Box 135Idleyld Park, OR [email protected]

Oldways WorkshopsNorm KidderSunol Regional WildernessPO Box 82Sunol, CA [email protected]

California (continued)

PaleotechnicsTamara Wilder and Steven Edholm PO Box 876Boonville, CA [email protected]

Sasquatch WayNachshon RosePO Box 137Lakehead, CA [email protected]

School of Self RelianceChristopher & Dolores NyergesPO Box 41834Eagle Rock, CA 90041323-255-9502

Colorado

Boulder Outdoor Survival SchoolJosh BernsteinPO Box 1590Boulder, CO 80306800-335-7404

Cottonwood InstituteFord Church1076 Grant PlaceBoulder, CO [email protected]

Earth KnackRobin BlankenshipPO Box 508Crestone, CO 81131719-256-4909


Nature Knowledge“Mountain Mel” Deweese1825 Linden StreetGrand Junction, CO [email protected]

Outdoor Wisdom and Living Skills(OWLS)

Fire Mountain & Aaron Huey 5745 Olde Stage Road.Boulder, CO [email protected]

Primitive Skills & BraintanningMichael Foltmer1330 Brantner RoadEvans, CO 80620970-339-5608

Wilderness Institute of SurvivalEducation

Don Davis8415 Coyote RunLoveland, CO [email protected]

Florida

Global Principles Survival School653 West 23rd St. #294Panama City, FL [email protected]

Georgia

Hofunee ProgramsScott Jones2550 Elberton RoadCarlton, GA [email protected]

Medicine Bow Wilderness SchoolMark Warren104 Medicine BowDahlonega, GA [email protected]

Idaho

Backtracks, LLCDave & Paula WescottPO Box 905Rexburg, ID [email protected]

Salmon Outdoor SchoolJoe & Denise BigleyPO Box 17Tendoy, ID [email protected]

Illinois

Ancient Lifeways InstituteJohn & Ela WhiteMichael Hollow RoadMichael, IL [email protected]

Center for American ArcheologyPO Box 366Kampsville, IL [email protected]


Nature Education Programs, Ltd.3030 Warrenville Rd., Suite 215Lisle, IL [email protected]

Northwest School of SurvivalBrian Wheeler800 W. 5th Ave., Suite 103-BNaperville, IL [email protected]

Maine

Beartraks Schools of WildernessLiving

Dan Fisher99 Woodside RoadBrunswick, ME [email protected]

EarthwaysRay & Nancy ReitzeRR2, Box 2700Canaan, ME 04924207-426-8138

Maine Primitive Skills SchoolMichael Douglas716 Church Hill RoadAugusta, ME [email protected]

Sandy River OutdoorsAdam Cates & Coby Leighton PO Box 164Solon, ME [email protected]

Maine (continued)

Sunrise Wilderness SkillsMatt and Kate Pinkham3 Gladd Lane Milo, ME [email protected]

Michigan

Willow WindsJim Miller962 F-30Mikado, MI 48745

Missouri

First Earth Wilderness School, LLCBo Brown3425 N. FR 209Strafford, MO [email protected]

Montana

A Naturalist’s WorldJim Halfpenny & Diann ThompsonPO Box 989Gardiner, MT [email protected]

Hollowtop Outdoor PrimitiveSchool

Thomas J. Elpel12 Quartz StreetPony, MT 59747-0697406-685-3222www.hollowtop.com

Four Seasons Prehistoric ProjectsLynx Vilden (aka. Lynx Shepherd)1501 Dodge CreekRexford, MT 59930


The ArtisanMelvin BeattiePO Box 9736Helena, MT 59604-9736406-458-5493

Nebraska

Spirit in the WindRick & Doris Hamilton87255 464th AvenueStuart, NE [email protected]

New Hampshire

Jack Mountain Bushcraft, LLCTim SmithPO Box 61Wolfeboro Falls, NH 03896-0061603-569-6150timsmith@jackmountainbushcraft.

com

New Jersey

Primitive IndustriesJack Cresson40 E. 2nd StreetMoorestown, NJ [email protected]

The Tracker, Inc.Tom Brown, Jr.PO Box 173Asbury, NJ 08802-0173908-479-4681

www.hollowtop.com

New Jersey (continued)

Wild Food CompanyLinda RunyonPO Box 83Shiloh, NJ [email protected]

New Mexico

The Earthen Spirituality ProjectJesse Wolf Hardin & Loba HardinPO Box 516Reserve, NM [email protected]

The Tracking ProjectJohn StokesPO Box 266Corrales, NM 87048-8788505-898-6967

New York

Ancient Skills SchoolJoe Longshore II357 Cowan RoadCanton, NY 13617

Gibbons’ WoodfolksPO Box 35Plattsburgh, NY [email protected]

Hawk CircleRicardo SierraPO Box 506Cherry Valley, NY [email protected]


Ndakinna Wilderness Project23 Middle Grove RoadGreenfield Center, NY [email protected]

The Wilderness CenterMarty Simon435 Sandy Knoll RoadChateaugay, NY 12920518-497-3179

Wilderness Way SchoolMike Head744 Glenmary DriveOwego, NY 13827607-687-9186

Wildman Steve Brill320 Palmer Terrace, 2AMamaroneck, NY [email protected]

Woodland WaysMike PewthererPO Box 228Philmont, NY 12565845-486-7092

North Carolina

Earth SchoolRichard ClevelandPO Box 777Tryon, NC [email protected]

Skills AliveMac Maness103 Briarpatch LaneBoone, NC [email protected]

North Carolina (continued)

Turtle Island PreserveEustace Conway1443 Lonnie Carlton RoadTriplett, NC [email protected]

Windsong PrimitivesBenjamin Pressley1403 Killian RoadStanley, NC [email protected]

Yonah Earthskills ProgramsSteven “Snowbear” & Mary Taylor901 S. Carter Cove RoadHayesville, NC 28904828-389-9336

Ohio

Goosefoot Acres Center forResourceful Living

Peter Gail, Ph.DPO Box 18016Cleveland, OH [email protected]

Midwest Native Skills InstituteTom LaskowskiPO Box 31764Cleveland, OH 44131Toll Free: [email protected]


Oregon

Dancing Hawk Native LifewaysSchool

Tony “Kerrke” Yu2520 Kingsley Road Hood River, OR [email protected]

Northwest School of SurvivalBrian Wheeler2870 NE Hogan Road, Suite E, #461Gresham, OR [email protected]

Wild Food AdventuresJohn Kallas, Ph.D4125 N. Colonial AvenuePortland, OR [email protected]

Pennsylvania

Earth Star SurvivalBob Collins224 Trinity Avenue Ambler, PA [email protected]

South Carolina

Windwalker Outdoor School Landy Young142 Grapevine Road Summerville, SC [email protected]

Tennessee

Big Oak Wilderness SchoolLisa & G.T. Sanford7616 Nolensville RoadNolensville, TN [email protected]

Spirit Bow Wilderness SchoolDoug Jones2024 Blue Ribbon Downs Lebanon, TN [email protected]

Utah

Lifeways Earth Living SchoolHolly StokesPO Box 70Spring City, UT 84662435-787-3732 [email protected]

Vermont

Camp WihakomwiBull Run RoadNorthfield, VT 05663802-485-4321

Vermont Wilderness SchoolSteve Young and Mark Morey67 Main Street, Suite 13Brattleboro, VT [email protected]

Virginia

Cliffside WorkshopsErrett Callahan2 Fredonia AvenueLynchburg, VA 24503434-528-3444


Earth ConnectionTim MacWelchPO Box 32Somerville, VA [email protected]

Earth QuestDavid Dabbs & Steve Sims506 Wilson LaneStuart, VA 24171540-930-3340

Nature Awareness SchoolDel & Lynne HallPO Box 219Lyndhurst, VA 22952540-377-6068

Two Suns Earth SchoolRoute 1, Box 318Fulks Run, Virginia 22830

Washington

Earthwalk Northwest, Inc.Frank & Karen SherwoodPO Box 461Issaquah, WA 98027425-746-7267

Simply SurvivalGreg & Kim DavenportPO Box 449Stevenson, WA 98648509-427-4022

Wilderness Awareness SchoolJon Young26425 NE Allen Street, Ste 203Duvall, WA 98019425-788-6155

Washington (continued)

WOLF School of Natural ScienceChris Chisholm &

Melva van SchyndelPO Box 1108Monroe, WA [email protected]

Wisconsin

Medicine Hawk Wilderness Skills,Inc.

PO Box 07482Milwaukee, WI [email protected]


Native Ways SchoolGregg WeissPO Box 133Cornucopia, WI [email protected]

Teaching Drum Outdoor SchoolTamarack Song7124 Military RoadThree Lakes, WI [email protected]

Tracks & Trees Learning Center, LLCDoug GaulkeN7597 County Highway YWatertown, WI [email protected]

OUTSIDE THE UNITED STATES

AUSTRALIA

Dundalli Art & CultureRick RoserPO Box 247Fortitude Valley, QLD 4006(07) 3358 [email protected]

Wilderness Survival Training CenterBob Newcomer9 Tanbark Circuit, Suite 1426Werrington Downs, NSW [email protected]

BELIZE

Jabiru LodgeBruce CarrollPO Box 127Ashuelot, NH 03441 [email protected]

CANADA

Alberta

Karamat Wilderness WaysRandy & Lori BreeuwsmaBox 483Wildwood, AB TOE [email protected]

The TrapperRoss HinterPO Box 246Tomahawk, AB TOE 2H0780-797-3808

British Columbia

Survivors EdgeJackson Wagner3127 Robinson RoadSooke, BC VOS [email protected]

Wild Awakening Sherene C. DjafroodiPO Box 442Atlin, BC, VOW 1A0403-651-0214 [email protected]

WindwalkerWes Gietz2205 Walnut AvenueComox, BC V9M [email protected]


WOLF School of Natural ScienceChris Chisholm &

Melva van SchyndelBox 434, 1641 Lonsdale AveNorth Vancouver, BC, V7M 2J5604-418-8900 [email protected]

Ontario

Alba Wilderness SchoolChad & Barry Clifford &

Tania MarshR.R.#4Lanark, ON, KOG-1KO613-259 [email protected]

FINLAND

Finland Survival GuildPetri HeinonenHeikinkuja 4 C 24F-13800 KatinalaFinland

GERMANY

ARVENNaturopathic Medicine &

Outdoor SkillsSusanne Fischer-RizziPostfach 24D-87475 SulzbergGermanyTel: 08376 1777

NETHERLANDS

EXTRA Survival CoursesRene NautaDe Bree 278381 BS VLEDDERThe NetherlandsTel: 0031 521 381110Fax: 0031 521 [email protected]

FYLGJURChristo Motz PO Box 42853006 AG Rotterdam The NetherlandsTel: +31 10 453 23 79+31 615 08 09 [email protected]

SWEDEN

Davaj Northern Bushcraft &Trekking

Geerd de KoningYstasjon 18884050 Gallo SwedenTel: [email protected]

Swedish Survival GuildSpelmanshöjden 13174 50 SundbybergPostgironummer: [email protected]

The Institute for AncientTechnology

S. Strandv·gen 7832 43 FROSONTel: 063-10 63 [email protected]


UNITED KINGDOM

Backwoods Survival School Patrick McGlinchey9 Loanend Cottages Cambuslang Glasgow G72 8YD Scotland, UKTel:. 0141 641 [email protected]

Bison BushcraftRoger HarringtonNo. 3 Beech Farm CottagesBugsell LaneRobertsbridgeEast SussexTN32 5ENUKTel: +44 01580 [email protected]

Breakaway Survival SchoolMick Tyler17 Hugh Thomas AvenueHolmerHereford HR4 9RBUKTel: [email protected]

Cambrian School of SurvivalPO Box 82AberystwythCeredigion SY23 1WH UKTel: 01970 612969 [email protected]

United Kingdom (continued)

Natural PathwaysPO Box 824 CanterburyCT4 6YQUKTel:. 44 01304 [email protected]

Outdoor World Survival School7 Highland Court BryncethinBridgendMid GlamorganSouth WalesUKCF32 9USTel: 01656 [email protected]

South West Survival SchoolNigel StartinHollybush BungalowFore StreetTintagelCornwallPL 34 ODEUKTel: 08700 [email protected]

Survival SchoolJonny CrockettNorthwoodPoltimoreExeterDevonEX4 0ARUKTel: +44 01392 460312 [email protected]


The UK Survival School Seymour House24 East StreetHerefordHR1 2LUUKTel: 00 44 (0)1432 [email protected]

Wild-LivePO Box 4NewryBT34 5WYNorthern Ireland, UKTel: 02843 771 [email protected]

Woodlore Ltd.Ray MearsP.O. Box 3EtchinghamTN19 7ZEUKTel: 01580 [email protected]

WoodsmokeBen McNuttPO Box 45CockermouthCumbriaCA15 9WBUKTel: 01900 821733 [email protected]

253

INDEX

acorns, 50, 90, 188; preparing, 189-190

agave, 208American Sign Language, 93, 182,

212, 227, 229Animal Damage Control program,

157animal fat, 50-51animal-rights campaigns, 156-157animals: checking, 54; death of, 155;

injured, 99, 238annuals, fibers from, 199-200arrowheads, 69, 127arrows, 19, 68, 69, 141ashcakes, 37attitude, survival and, 6

bacteria, 54, 58bags, making, 19baits, 11; setting, 74-75balance, 95, 115, 140bark, 117, 178, 236; birch, 111;

harvesting, 91, 92, 199; pine, 113,118

baskets, 1, 3, 21, 63; bark, 178-180;basic rootlet, 177-178

bears, 52, 142, 152; interactionswith, 143, 144; spotting, 143-145.See also grizzlies

beef industry, politics of, 157beehives, 63-64, 148, 155. See also

honeybeesbee stings, 207behaviors, refining, 237berries, 30, 40, 48, 50, 72, 76, 100,

107, 120, 131, 180, 187, 235;

eating, 23, 49, 67; gathering, 18,19, 21, 86, 101, 176, 233;preserving, 101-102. See alsofruits

birds, 47, 52, 53, 63, 64, 108, 110,114-115, 141-142, 182, 191, 206,215, 216, 227; calls of, 140, 184;cooking, 44; habitats of, 219-221;hunting, 163; listening/learningfrom, 70; of prey, 220; tracks of,183; watching, 193-195, 204

Blackfoot nation, 144bleeding, 54-55blood poisoning, 210bobbers, 74, 75bobcats, 183; tracks of, 86body: maintaining, 49, 208;

surrendering, 213bolas, 157, 163-164bones, 81, 95, 100; ornaments, 69;

sharpening, 161; smashing, 127;utilizing, 54, 60

bow and drills, 198; fire makingwith, 132-139

bowel movements, 24, 46, 209bowls: carved, 204; stone, 69, 126bows, 8, 19, 81, 132, 201; making,

134, 141bows and arrows, shooting fish

with, 81bow strings, 95Brown, Tom, Jr.: debris huts and, 25brushy material, 27-28, 91bulrush seeds, 40, 115, 120bundles, 200, 202burdock, 40, 43, 44, 45, 50, 91, 110

burning in, 136butchering, 54, 58-60buttons, making, 69

cambium, 117, 178camouflage, 97; charcoal, 174-175;

mud, 173-174; physical, 172-174camp, making, 32-37, 117, 128, 154,

223, 224camping, 185, 193; survival and, 7-8canteens, 51, 68, 88-90, 93, 176;

bark, 87, 88; ideas for, 120;making, 8, 87; need for, 67;waterproofing, 69

carbohydrates, 48, 110carcasses, 99, 103; caring for, 54-60carving, 92Cascade Mountains, 227casting, 74catchments, water and, 123cattails, 50; gathering, 94, 100-101,

105, 106, 145cattle, 75, 157Centers for Disease Control and

Prevention (CDC), 123chipping, 129chives, 41, 104cicadas, 109clay, 111, 208clothes, 95, 98, 214, 215; cleaning,

208; drying, 31; making, 232;scrubbing, 208; water and, 123;winter, 232

coals, 37; burning, 33, 92; fire and,138; making, 137-138

conservation, 2, 229constipation, 209containers, 38; bark, 104, 110,

111-113, 120; clay, 111; cooking,110, 111-114, 119, 178; making,18, 91, 176, 197; wood, 111,113-114

contamination, avoiding, 32cooking, 37, 40-45, 101, 111, 113,

153, 157, 168, 176; fire and, 7;food storage and, 32; pit, 42-45;


primitive, 83; water for, 31;wilderness, 107

cooking pots, 176cooking rocks, 38, 118cook pit, 43, 45cookware, 110cordage, 1, 31, 36, 59, 60, 63, 67, 74,

105, 124, 132, 136, 162, 163, 176,180, 191, 198-202, 221, 222, 226;making, 39, 92, 134-135, 197, 202;spinning, 200-201, 202

corks, 89coyotes, 61, 87, 124, 192, 197, 237;

howling of, 212; spotting, 125-126crayfish, 20, 21, 74, 76, 105, 110, 114;

gathering, 30, 115, 121cutting board, 104

daydreaming, 203deadfall traps: “figure-4,”, 14-15, 67;

“Paiute,” 67debris, 66, 91, 117, 120, 123, 130,

131, 169, 180, 191debris huts, 38, 47, 63, 87, 121, 154,

181, 195, 204; building, 25-30;described, 18; interest in, 176;mice in, 67; options for, 29-30;retiring to, 168; separate, 24-25;sleeping in, 30; taking down, 230

decomposition, 54, 129, 198deer, 54, 61, 65, 98, 100, 108, 156,

165, 216, 227, 237; hunting, 39-40, 51, 213; legs of, 225; stalking,62-63, 142, 145-146, 170, 214-215

defecating, 208-209dehydration, 7deodorizer, 208Department of Fish and Game, 83diarrhea, 7, 109diet, 110, 125; balanced, 48-51;

survival, 48, 49-51; varied, 107;wild, 24, 49, 98, 208. See also food

digging sticks, 32, 36doors, 63, 64; piles, 29; tipi, 118drinking hole, contamination of,

147-148

drying, 59, 103drying racks, preparing, 103ducks, 51; roasting, 42

Earthwalk Northwest, 189ecology, 47, 61, 75, 165, 238;

harvesting, 157; humans and, 155,168

efficiency, 236eggs, 45, 51Elbroch, Mark, 124, 190energy, 48, 115, 133, 152; natural

cycles of, 165; wasting, 236English Sign Language, 182environment, 71, 212; absorbing,

216

fasting, 206, 227, 233fibers, 48, 50, 92, 112, 116, 198, 226;

preparing, 199-200; spinning,200-201

field dressing, 54, 55-57fire, 7, 18, 21; coal and, 138fireboards, 132, 133, 135, 136, 137,

138; making, 134fire hardening, 161; rabbit sticks,

159fire kindling, described, 116-117fire making, 2, 8, 83, 92, 116, 179,

235; bow and drill, 132-138;materials for, 7; tools for, 18

fire pits, 32, 37, 117, 154fire powder, 133fires, 64; bow-and-drill, 133;

hardwood, 119; starting, 44;tending, 104

firewood, 32, 117first wood, 117fish, 50, 51, 115, 118, 206; catching,

75, 80, 106, 149-150; cooking, 37,43, 118; dressing, 75, 129

Fisher, Dan, 190fishers, 23, 192, 216, 219; tracking,

217, 218-219fishing, 53, 74, 140, 156, 166;

American culture and, 238;


etiquette for, 238; licenses, 8;practicing, 2; regulations for, 4;snake, 168. See also hand fishing

following your path, 215food, 153, 170-171, 214; concern for,

140, 171; diversity of, 140;gathering, 38, 49, 191; modern,231, 232, 233; paying for, 192;preserving, 49, 101-104; simple,233; storing, 32, 101-104, 232;survival and, 7; wasting, 61;working for, 47. See also diet

frogs, watching, 193-194fruits, 48, 93, 102, 107. See also

berriesfunction, 237; purpose and, 236

garlic mustard, 41, 86, 104, 107geese, 51, 62; cooking, 42, 43;

hunting, 67, 141-142Geronimo Trail, 125, 126Glacier National Park, 142, 144goals, 38, 93goose, 42; hunting, 22, 71gorge, the, 204-205, 206grape leaves, 41, 118grass, 44, 45, 50, 52, 82, 212; dried,

33; wiping with, 210great blue herons, 183, 193great horned owls, 216, 219-220greens, fiber from, 50grizzlies, 142, 143group shelter, 24, 109, 154grouse, 42, 51, 218gutting, 54, 55-57, 95, 129

hair washing, 208hammerheads, 128, 225hammer stone, 127, 129hand-drills, 18hand fishing, 76-77, 84, 115, 149-

150, 205; described, 79, 82-83;spearfishing and, 79-80

handholds, 132, 134, 135, 136-137hardening agents, 68

harvesting, 38, 157, 165, 193, 198-199

Hawk Circle, 1health issues, 207, 208, 210, 239. See

also sicknessheart, removing, 56heat, 37, 48, 111herbs, 41, 42hides, 95, 111; racking, 222, 224;

scrapers, 32; soaking, 223, 224;working, 36. See also rawhide

hog peanut, 41, 50holes, digging, 32honey, 40, 52, 146, 165, 166, 187;

extracting, 62, 148, 154, 155, 169honeybees, 62, 154, 166, 169, 206-

207; inspecting, 148-149; smokeand, 148; studying, 146-147

hooks, 176; baited, 74; bone, 34, 72-75, 105, 221; making, 34, 72-75

hot rocks, 43, 44, 45house cats, 218; tracks of, 86, 183;

voles and, 155-156hunter-gatherers, 156, 238hunters, hunted and, 142hunting, 19, 38-40, 51, 53, 58, 71, 88,

94-95, 101, 105, 108, 147, 160,176, 197, 203, 211, 218, 239;American culture and, 238;ancient cultures and, 156; bird,163; bow, 8; described, 97-99;energy for, 10; etiquette for, 238;hazards of, 79; licenses, 99;natural cycles and, 165; regula-tions for, 4; skills for, 2, 95-99;strategies for, 192; successful, 54,170; thoughts on, 21, 22; tools for,36, 38, 157-164, 176; trout, 77-83

hydration, urine and, 49hygiene, 98, 208-210hypothermia, 7

insects, 186, 192, 194, 206, 213internal cleansing process, 215intestines, removing, 54, 56It Will Live Forever: Traditional


Yosemite Indian Acorn Preparation(Ortiz and Parker), 190

jerky, 53, 60, 103, 104; snapping-turtle, 9; woodchuck, 42, 109

Jerusalem artichoke, 41, 50jewelweed, 21, 52

killing, 99, 155, 156, 197, 213;real/necessary, 165; responsibilityfor, 238

killing/holding mechanisms, 10kindling, 117kingfisher, watching, 110, 114-115knife handles, coating, 69knives, 56, 68, 199, 232knots, securing, 69

lady’s thumb, 21, 22lamb’s-quarters, 31, 50lashings, 223, 225latrine, locating, 32laws, 8; breaking, 2leather, working, 19leaves, 25, 38, 110, 207; changing, 30;

dried, 33; gathering, 23, 28, 29;snacking on, 49; spare, 30; wipingwith, 210

leeks, 41, 104Leopold, Aldo, 61lethargy, 23-24, 110lifestyle, 154, 239liquids, 122-125liver, 48, 56logging, 75, 204lubricants, 137lymphangitis, 210maggots, 130, 156McCarter, John, 228meals, 46, 116, 187; eating, 232, 233;

preparing, 40-45meat, 48, 50-51, 95, 157; drying, 53,

54, 102-103; eating, 50; preparing,41-42, 53, 103-104; preserving,102-103; storing, 59. See also jerky

menstrual pads, moss, 208

mental faculties, 7, 46, 214mice, 67, 74, 100, 183, 191; jumping,

182, 188; nests, studying, 22, 65-66; tracks of, 188

milkweed, 24, 41mind, 211; surrendering, 213; tricks,

214minks, 20minnow catchers, 21mint, 49, 50, 187money, 192, 238moon, cycles of, 230mosquitoes, 105, 108, 125, 228;

problems with, 63, 64, 109, 139,140, 206

moss, 196; menstrual pads of, 208;wiping with, 210

mountain lions, 143, 147movement, hunting and, 95muskrats, 21, 40, 152mustard, 42; garlic, 41, 86, 104, 107

National Institutes of Health, 48National Park Service, 143National Ski Patrol, 48, 123natural cycles, 71, 105, 165, 216natural resources, 71, 238natural world, 187, 197-198, 235,

237, 238; love for, 232, 233nature, 155-156, 216; provision by,

207; struggles against, 6needles, 38, 49, 132, 137, 221New Age movements, 215newts, gathering of, 169New York State Department of

Conservation, 8New York State Department of Fish

and Wildlife, 8notches, 65, 133, 137nuts, 50, 65-66, 90, 93, 191

oaks, types of, 188opossum, 151, 188, 193orchards, 152, 212organs, removing, 54, 56Ortiz, Beverly, 190overeating, 231


overfishing, 83overheating, 231

Parker, Julia, 190patience, lack of, 125Peacock, Doug, 144pecking, 126-129pemmican, 50, 104, 221pine borers, 191pinecones, wiping with, 209pitch, 51, 52, 90, 132, 162, 236;

applying, 89, 225; collecting, 68,100; preparing, 69, 126; searchingfor, 62, 67; working with, 68-70

pits: cooking, 42-45; packing, 44pit toilets, 148place, connection/awareness of, 140plantains, 206, 207, 210pliers, making, 34-35poison ivy, 67, 141, 210poison oak, 210poisons, 207, 210pollution, 79, 184pottery, 1poultices, 207predators, 70, 192; menstrual pads

and, 208preserving, 49, 59, 101-104prey, locating, 97, 98, 142primary cuts, 57projectile heads, 34protein, 48, 50public lands, cattle and, 75, 157purification, 122-125purpose, 215-216; function and, 236

quick stills, 124-125

rabbits, 51, 139, 140, 141, 156, 169,170, 188, 192, 218; hunting, 47,165, 211; nests, 151; skulls of, 152;tracks of, 85-86

rabbit sticks, 97, 98, 99, 139;described, 157-160; firehardening, 159; modifications of,158-159; throwing, 159-160

raccoons, 83, 188, 217; tracks of, 184

racked hide method, 222-224rawhide, 36, 95, 104, 128, 162, 198,

221-226; protecting, 221; wet/dry,225; working with, 224-225

real-world connections, 151, 153-154

red foxes, 151, 188, 217redtailed hawks, 141, 220refuse, burning, 120regulations, 4, 8ret, 92, 199, 200rhythms, 196, 197-198, 207, 216;

flexibility of, 203ribbing, 27ribes, 212ridgepoles, 26, 29rituals, 185, 237roasting, 37, 41-42, 45, 109, 118rock boiling, 33, 37, 113, 119, 177rocks: collecting, 119; exploding, 44;

heating, 43; removing, 119roots, 177-178, 180, 230; digging,

110; snacking on, 49rough kindling, 117routines, 226, 237

safety, 26, 171sand, wiping with, 209sap, 122-123sassafras, 49, 50satchels, 32scavengers, 60scent glands, removing, 55, 56schedules, 46, 203scrapers, 32, 35-36, 223, 224screech owls, 170, 182, 184, 187scurvy, 49seams, waterproofing, 69seep holes, 124sheaths, 226sheep pasture, 152shelters, 9, 125, 235; building, 21,

23, 24, 25-30, 191-192, 239;collapsing, 38; concern for, 171;grade for, 25-26; heat-conserving,


129; leaks in, 17; location for, 25-26; makeshift, 131; measurementsfor, 26-27; paying for, 192;pointers for, 30; safety with, 26;size of, 27; stuffing inside of, 28-29; survival and, 7

shelves, 32, 33Sherwood, Karen, 189shrews, 38, 40, 91, 94, 180, 183, 184,

191, 211sickness, 7, 109, 120, 122, 153-154;

avoiding, 24; persistent, 107-108.See also health issues

Sierra, Ricardo, 1sinews, 95, 128, 162, 180, 198, 221-

226skinned log method, 222, 224skinning, 54, 57, 221, 222, 224skins, basket, 177skulls, 129-130, 152, 229; studying,

22-23sleep, 18, 140sleeping bags, 30, 239smoke, 138; honeybees and, 148snakes, 45, 51, 79, 83, 143, 166-168snapping turtles, 9, 51, 79, 82;

cooking, 42; tracks of, 121; trapfor, described, 15-17

snares, 8, 31, 38, 141, 197, 201;checking, 206; keeper, 13-14; peg,11-12; T-bar, 12-13

snow, wiping with, 209soap, 98, 208soapwort, 38, 98, 208, 212sockets, locating, 135solar stills, 124-125soles, 221solos, 206, 211-214, 219, 221, 227,

228spearfishing, 8, 63, 80-82, 84, 106,

149, 166, 205; hand fishing and,79-80

Sspearheads, 69, 161, 162spears, 8, 68, 69, 86, 97; adaptability

of, 81; making, 80, 127; throwing,157, 161-163; thrusting, 160-161;using, 79, 81

spices, 21, 104spindles, 132, 137; making, 133-134;

stringing, 135-136spirit, 185, 211, 213, 236splicing, 201-202spoons, 31, 114squirrels, 51, 52, 53, 55, 65, 100, 118,

131, 218; marking behaviors by,228; rituals of, 195-196; tracks of,188

stalking, 51, 67, 95-99, 145-146, 160,170, 182, 192, 205, 214-215;practicing, 99

sticks, 38, 199, 209; digging, 32, 36;“Y,” 26, 34, 37, 59. See also rabbitsticks; throwing sticks

stinging nettle, 210stitching, 112, 113stones, 81, 111; chisel, 35; hammer,

127, 129; hunting with, 22; tools,126; wiping with, 209

stoppers, making, 89storage, 32, 59, 101-104, 198-199,

232storms, 17, 38, 46, 47, 90, 131, 133,

152, 168, 195; weathering, 239stretching, 222, 223string, making, 9, 134-135sunfish, 72, 105, 206survival, 2, 176, 232, 235, 236; goals

for, 38; images of, 6; priorities of,6-7; simplicity of, 185

survival skills, 47, 76, 170, 212, 232;functional, 186-187; interest in,239; learning, 192; naturalresources and, 71; practicing, 1-4,186, 228, 235-238; tools for, 8

sweat lodge, 98

tannins, 190, 224tapping stones, 129teas, 50technology, 142, 232, 239teeth brushing, 208tendons, 225“Thinking Like a Mountain”


(Leopold), 61thongs, 180throwing sticks, 21, 39, 53, 86, 139,

141, 142, 163, 211; hunting with,22, 71, 94

thrusting spears, 157tinder, 116, 133, 137tipi fires, 44, 133; building, 117-118;

components of, 116-117toiletries, natural, 209-210tongs, 32, 33-34, 119tools, 8; concern for, 171;

firemaking, 18; hunting, 36, 38,157-164, 176; need for, 67; stone,126

trackers, 120tracking, 76, 84-86, 97, 142, 186,

192, 196, 203, 212, 215-219, 232;practicing, 237, 238; schools, 237;studying/researching, 3, 229, 235

Track Road, 182, 183, 193tracks, 140, 193; animal, 85-86, 121,

151, 183, 184, 188; bird, 183trails, 203, 213, 217transitioning, side effects of, 24trapping, 238traps, 1, 10-17; checking, 187-188,

196-197; deadfall, 14-15, 67;incidental, 11; set locations for,11; turtle, 9; types of, 10-11

trees, 132, 152trespassing, 4, 8, 71trout, 31, 76, 205, 229, 235; catching,

84, 115, 149-150, 204; cooking,107, 118, 168; described, 150;eating, 168; hand fishing for, 115;hunting for, 77-83; roasting, 41-42; spearing, 106-107, 149-150;water snakes and, 166-168

truth, touching, 232turkeys, 40, 51, 215; cooking, 42, 43twigs, brushing teeth with, 208

U.S. Department of Agriculture(USDA), 58, 157; balanced dietand, 48; food pyramid of, 49

U.S. Forest Service, 184, 189urine, hydration and, 49

vegetables, 40-41, 48, 50venison, 42, 51, 60vises, 32, 34-35vision, 207; full-view, 96, 175;

peripheral, 96, 204; pinpoint, 96;splatter, 96; wide-angle, 96

vision quest, 140, 185vitamins, 48, 49voles, 170, 212-213, 226, 227; house

cats and, 155-156

washboards, 208water, 18, 93, 110, 121, 131, 152, 204,

214; carrying, 176, 177; contam-ination of, 32, 147-148; cooking,31; drinkable, 49, 108, 125;gathering, 38, 122-125;purification of, 122-125;subsurface, 124; surface, 123-124;survival and, 7; wiping with, 210

waterproofing, 69, 225water snakes, 45, 166-168


weaving, materials for, 201wedges, 35wild carrots, 40, 50wilderness: changes for, 3; destroyer

of, 157; safe havens in, 171; skills,151, 229

wild garlic, 41, 86, 104, 106wildlife, 47, 214, 216, 228wiping, 209-210wishbones, 73wood, 117, 133woodchucks, 8, 19, 42, 51, 100, 108,

141, 169, 170, 188, 206; cooking,87; hunting, 86, 97, 157, 160, 197,203; killing, 94-95, 99; skulls, 129-130, 152; stalking, 131, 182, 192;tracks of, 84-85

Woodland Ways, 235wounds, caring for, 210

Yosemite National Park, 152Young, John, 70, 220“Y” sticks, 26, 34, 37, 59yucca, 74; fibers from, 200

wilderness survival : living off the land with the clothes on your back and the knife on your belt

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