Chapter 26

We prepared for the hunt by greasing the outside of our heavy boots with animal fat to make them water-resistant. Pure beeswax would have been better, but we used it for so many other things that only a little was available. But coating the boots to make them at least water-resistant was necessary, even though our supply of fat was limited by the need to include fat in our diet.

Small animals such as rabbits were a welcome supplement, but there was so little fat on them that we sometimes coated them with bison fat before roasting. That was one of our problems, losing fat from roasting meat as it dripped while cooking. I had tried to capture the drippings, but so far nothing had worked. Our best solution for now was to not overcook the meat and collect the drippings in a clay pot while the meat cooled.

But we would be tramping through snow on the hunt, and we might even be forced to wade through a stream. Uncoated boots lead to wet feet, which in turn are cold feet. Our boots would get wet, but if we coated them right our feet wouldn’t. We would care for our feet as best we could, but even so they would always be in danger from trench foot, chilblains, or frostbite.

Trench foot, which affects the skin for the most part, can occur if the foot remains wet for as little as a day. It is painful, even crippling, and the cure is to keep the foot dry and elevated until the condition goes away, but frostbite kills frozen tissue. The only cure for third or fourth degree frostbitten toes, or for that matter a frozen foot, is amputation before gangrene sets in.

We loaded the sled with tools and supplies in preparation for the hunt, taking two of the short swords, the shovel, axe, a small pottery lamp with extra fuel, furs for sleeping and heavy coats. The lamp burned a mix of beeswax and animal fat, and a spare pot held enough mix to refill the lamp twice more. If that wasn’t enough, we would use freshly-rendered animal fat if we killed something. We also packed emergency food on the sled, but hoped not to use it.

We were packed for the hunt, but there was a gray overcast when I glanced at the sky the next morning. “We’re not going anywhere today,” I decided. “See those clouds to the north? Looks like we’ll get more snow before nightfall. We’re safe enough as long as the weather is clear. Our fur coats are warm, so as long as we have food and shelter from the wind, even outdoors, we’ll be OK. It might be more dangerous if the weather gets colder, but we can worry about that when it happens. The Inuit and Lapps work outside in Arctic conditions, weather that’s even colder than it gets here, so if we’re careful we can too.

A blizzard is different, because it’s easy to get lost. We wouldn’t even have footprints to follow. But they generally don’t last more than a day or two, so we’ll wait this one out.

“With luck, the wind will firm up the snow. Snowshoeing is easier when the snow is packed, and if it gets really firm we may not even need the snowshoes. Even so, we’ll keep them on the sled just in case.

“Anyway, we need to get meat while we can, so we’ll go when the weather clears. If the animals have migrated, we won’t try to follow them. Too much chance of getting lost, and anyway it would be too far to carry the meat back. Not to mention that if we’re caught in a real whiteout, we won’t get back.”

We manhandled the partially-packed sled into the lean-to and laced the skins back together across the front. Snow had fallen on the slanted roof, and some had accumulated near the top where the roof leaned against the cabin. The roof’s steep slope discouraged heavy accumulation and I had built the lean-to’s roof with sturdy timbers, so I didn’t expect it to fail.

We’d cut a number of small hickory trees during the late summer, selected to be about half the thickness of my wrist and stored in the lean-to for seasoning. From these, I made a sled that would have done a downtime kid proud. Smaller than the two-man version we’d been using, it could be towed by a single person but could still haul a lot of weight over snow.

After finishing the first sled, I turned the task of making more over to Lee and Laz.

“The small sleds will carry our gear on the way out and as much meat as possible on the way back. Whatever we take will come back with us; we just don’t have enough spare gear to abandon anything.

“Carry your weapons over your clothing; everything else gets packed on a sled, and bedding will take up a lot of room. The big sled is for Laz, Lee, and me; we’re stronger, so it only makes sense for us to haul most of the load. We’ll need most of the room on the two-man sled to haul meat, so our gear will be divided up and stacked on the small sleds. Comments or questions?”

I got only nods. It was the obvious way to divide up the work.

The storm brought wind and more snow that afternoon. I could still hear the wind blowing outside the cabin when we bedded down that night.

Snow was falling the next morning when I looked outside. The hunt would be postponed for another day, and maybe longer.

We used the snowshoes whenever we left the cabin that day, going outside only to answer nature’s call or to bring in wood and water. We did what needed doing as fast as possible and hustled back in before anything important got frostbite! The lean-to got a daily inspection, not only by looking at snow on the roof but also by entering it via the cabin’s back door to make sure no small animal had found a way inside.

I occasionally thought how nice a flush toilet would be. Bath tub or shower, too, for that matter. Heated water! I found myself thinking of that barely-remembered bathroom every time I had to go outside.

The small sleds were finished, so we worked on weapons, starting with arrows. We could never have too many! I had become quite skilled at forming sharp edges and points, but I pushed the material’s limits to get the points as sharp as possible. Sometimes I pushed too far, so I ended up with a lot of broken arrowheads. I bagged up the shards, figuring that sooner or later I’d find a use for them.

We’d collected shafts during the summer and stored them in the lean-to. We brought them out, one bundle at a time, and started work. I flaked points, and as soon as I finished one Lee and Laz attached it to a shaft. Short, heavy shafts got points but no feathers; those were bolts for the crossbow. The women split feathers and attached them to the longer shafts. The stiffer arrows would be for my use, some slightly lighter ones were for Lilia and Lee, and the rest were for everyone else.

Laz had a better bow now. He’d already had archery skills, so needed only stronger muscles to draw the heavier bow I made him. We men had spears with blades salvaged from short swords, and we carried those whenever we went outside the cabin. If we needed our hands, we used the straps, lengthened to fit comfortably over the fur coats we now wore whenever we went outdoors.

The storm ended three days later and the next morning dawned clear and cold.

Lee finished breakfast first. “I’ll get the big sled out of the lean-to. The small sleds too, so all we’ll need to do is pack last-minute gear and get going. I’m anxious! I haven’t been on a hunt to the grassland yet, but my arm has fully recovered and I want to use those snowshoes to see something besides cabin walls and a woodpile!”

“We’re as ready as we’re going to get,” I said. “Make sure your heavy sleeping furs are packed on your sled. You’ll need them ... sleeping cold is uncomfortable!” I got chuckles from that; all of us knew the truth of that statement! Millie and Cindy waved farewell from the cabin door. They had shelter, food, water, firewood, and weapons, so I expected they’d have no problems while we were gone.