Day Five

Morning, Day 5

Again, I slept well.  I'm getting comfortable here.  I awoke with the feeling that I'll be here a while.  Although, when it's time to go, I feel that it won't seem very long at all.  Anyhow, I've made plans to collect material for the shelter today.  If I don't protect myself from the elements, who knows how long I'll make it.  I'm envisioning a lean-to about six feet by nine feet, standing no less than seven feet high.  Being in the woods, I should have no problem finding sizable lumber.  My first chore this morning will be to construct some sort of axe from the stone I collected yesterday.

Being here alone, it may be of use to document my dreams as well as my actions.  They say that cabin fever can drive a man insane.  I cannot afford to lose it out here by myself.  Last night, I dreamt about this place.  I'm more thoroughly convinced now that there is a mountain to the north, and that the river originates at the summit.  In my dream, I traveled north from the brook I visited yesterday.  The river widened.  About a mile upstream, the river was no less than twenty feet across, and moving rapidly.  The fish were plentiful, and the wildlife abundant.  The duck was there.  Oddly, it was the only one of its kind.  I can't identify it, but it's not a common loon or mallard.  This bird was brown, with few markings on his head, notably the black mohawk.  He almost looked like a Canada Goose, without the extensive neck.  The water was clear, the floor rocky.  I'm certain of crustaceous life on the rocky bottom.  Every so often, I'd get a whiff of salty breeze, as if I were near the ocean.  But which one?  Will my subconscious force (or enable?) me to smell it while awake?  I bathed in the river.  It was refreshing.  I was strong, as if I'd dedicated my life to my physique.  I had a sculpted chest, and abs like Michelangelo's David.  When I finished bathing, I made my way back to camp, pulling limbs off of birch, pine, cedar, and oak.  I was strong, confident, determined.  When I returned, I erected my shelter rather quickly, and with tremendous ease.  I used the oak for the corner posts, and the birch for the framing.  I filled in the walls using the pine, and the cedar branches, I used for the roof.  I'd worked some of the barks into a braided rope which I used to tie the branches together.  I had some left over that I was able to hang a hammock with.  Then the shelter was finished, I awoke.  I believe that this plan, latched in my subconscious, will guide me in constructing my shelter in reality.  Ideally, I will collect the lumber I need in one day, with preparation of the branches consuming most of the next.  I fully anticipate this filling my waking hours for the next five to ten days.

Evening, Day 5

Whew!  What an exhausting day.  I wasn't sure where to go to find the needed lumber for a shelter.  I started out on my usual route along the northeast path.  As I approached the first bend in the path, I saw four ten foot tall oaks with a solid twelve inch core.  These were identical to the oak support beams I saw in my dream.  As I found my way past the oak quartet, I found some birch, perfect for the framework of my recently envisioned living quarters.  I snapped as much of those trees as I could, using whatever brute force I had in me.  I broke off ten to twenty foot portions of six birch trees.  That was very satisfying.  I looked around, almost expecting to see a multitude of pine branches, ready for my plucking.  What I saw was merely a newly cleaned trail back to my main causeway.  I spent the next hour or two dragging the birch logs back to camp.  When I finished with that transport, I was noting my fortune that I was only a five minute walk away from camp.  At this point, it's pretty near the middle of the afternoon.  With a few hours of daylight left, I decided to start the campfire.  I'm getting increasingly better at starting the fire with only the few pieces of wood.  Good thing, considering that's all that I have available.  Knowing that I only have an hour or two of solid daylight left, I head back out in search of more lumber.  I'm about to walk by the mighty foursome, when I see a chipmunk run straight through.  For whatever reason, I follow him.  During my pursuit, I realize that he'd be the first meat I'd eaten since I got here.  That made my decision easy.  I considered my options, do I find a good size rock and give it a good crack on the head?  Do I hunt it down and throw a well placed rock?  What's the most guilt-free, painless way to kill my first meal of substance?  Then, he does something incredible.  He runs four feet up a pine tree, looks at me, and jumps.  Straight towards my hands.  Instinctively, I catch the little guy.  Then the survival instinct settles in, and with one swift motion, I snapped his neck.  Quick, painless, and is should keep the meat intact.  I made a pocket in my shirt tails, and put him in for transport.  It's at this point I realize that he ascended a pine tree.  Using the only tool I had, I sawed off as many branches as I could carry.  Not nearly enough to seal tin the size shelter I am hoping to build, but enough to convey the illusion of a successful day in the woods.

When I returned to camp, I dressed off the chipmunk who made the sacrifice to be my meal, which I handled very instinctively.  I'm really starting to wonder who I am.  I made the initial incision at his genitalia, slicing toward his neck.  I carefully peeled the pelt off, preserving it as best I could.  I can never know when this might come in handy.  I used a nearby stick to skewer the chipmunk, after I gutted it.  The heart, liver, kidneys, and eyeballs were consumed after each were stone grilled over my mighty campfire.  I don't think the eyes should have been cooked.  The organs were tasty, and filling.  I'm eating the meat now.  Kind of meager portions, even for a chipmunk.  They claim everything tastes like chicken.  I disagree, chipmunk tastes like a saltless pork.  It's safe to say that chipmunks are not safe in these parts, because I will eat them again if need be.  It has certainly been a long day, and successful, too.  The pile of timber proves that.  I think, though, that tomorrow, I need to do something about my tool situation.  I'm thinking at least an axe and shovel, which I may be able to construct.  Maybe it will come to me.