When I was fourteen my best friend Frank and I had a real eye opener with a four day survival trip. Frank and I was bragging about how good we were in the woods to another friend when his older brother said, “Prove it!” I bet you two can’t make it on your own in the woods for two days. I replied, “How about four days.” In my young confident mind two days was not even a challenge. So, we convinced our parents to allows us to take off school that Friday. I remember it was in October I believe it was veterans day and we had Monday off . The only restriction we had was we could only take what we could carry. The first dinner was Dinty Moore stew. All other meals had to be caught or picked by us. We had coffee too. The deal was we could carry in anything but not stash any food. So, we carried in our tent, sleeping bags, mess kits, canteens, like an emergency fishing kit, and one .22 single shot rifle.
We walked into the wilds for three miles to a spot between two lakes. I can still smell the earthy ground, the beautiful colors of leaves starting to change, the warm days and cool nights. We laughed and joked that we could make it easy. I had been studying wild plants and Frank was real good fisherman. We set up camp and caught grasshoppers for bait. The fishing was tough going. We were using long thin saplings casting out. We had hooks lines and sinkers. We made our bobbers out of wood. After four hours and covering most the lake all we had was three small bluegills. Cleaning them we cut the head off and had bait for a three trot line for snapping turtles. This had always worked for us and surely we would have a nice twenty to twenty-five pound snapper waiting in the morning. That night we spilt the fish and ate the stew. Drifting off to sleep in the woods the glow of the fire lit up the tent and soon sleep over took us.
I awoke to branches breaking and Frank said, “Hurry up and get the coffee going.” His fire took right off. We didn’t have fancy water filters so we just boiled the water. Tasted great in the cool morning. We quickly headed off to check the trot lines. Two young men eat a lot of food. The first line was empty and we tossed it back out. No worries we have two sets left. The next trot line had the bait stripped off. Most likely by smaller turtles. This we wrapped up and set on shore to be re-baited after we caught more fish. To the last set Frank raced ahead. I was hoping the last trot line held the prize. My stomach grumbled in protest. No doubt from being late having breakfast.
Frank yelled back we got one. A big triumph smile across his face. Good deal. I ran down. The line was wrapped around a snag in deep water. Frank stripped off his clothes and swam out freeing it. He came back quickly dressing saying something about cold water. I tried to pull the big brute in. The trick here is to get the turtle off the bottom. That way their powerful claws have nothing to hold them down. Slowly I applied pressure and the big brute was not coming out to play. I had to wrap a stick around the twenty pound line. The stick prevented the line from cutting into my hands. Frank walked over and together we broke the big brute free. He is coming in now. About ten feet out he to broke the surface of the water. A big old black shell with moss growing on the sides of his shell. A head that looked like a baseball. Strong powerful legs swimming against us. We just walked backwards up the small hill hauling him in. Of course the easy part was over now. We had to run down and grab the tail without getting bit. About three feet from shore the turtle struggled to the cover of a low hanging branch that wrapped the line around it. Frank raced down splashing out into the water grabbed the line and pulled it up. The turtle seeing him went into full fight mode swimming and failing with his four powerful claws. I raced down to help. About that time Frank yanked on the line to clear the turtle of the brush. The turtle’s front right claw caught the line and snap. Frank almost fell backwards into water. I raced in the water trying to grab the tail, but the turtle was gone in a flash.
I looked back at Frank and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. There swimming away was three days worth of food. Oh well, back to fishing. We fished our hearts and soul out that day and all we caught was one small bluegill about five inches long. I caught a small bull frog. That was our dinner. Needless to say we were starving for some food. With the one blue gill after cleaning him we re-baited the other two trot lines. Drinking coffee over the fire that night it got cold. I was thinking this is not good. The turtles slow down and don’t feed much.
Day three. The blackberry patch we found was completely empty. It was too early for acorns. We quickly checked the trot lines. Nothing had hit any of them. We need some food today. A real meal with some meat. We decided to go hunting. The old single shot .22 would bring us food. We drew straws to see who would play dog and who would shoot first. Frank won. So I played dog. He would sneak ahead about fifty yards and then I would zig zagged through the brush trying to chase a pheasant or rabbit his way. After hours and hours of this it finally worked. A rabbit was sneaking out in front stopped, turned around to see where I was. The .22 rifle cracked. I came running up thinking food at last. Did you get it? What is it? Frank was silent. I could tell by the look on his face that he missed. It was a rabbit. My turn.
We walked back to camp to make up a new plan. On the way back we spotted a large fox squirrel. The squirrel was in smaller oak trees that were only twenty feet high. I shot and missed and handed the gun to Frank he shot and missed. The whole time the squirrel is running from tree to tree. We raced along keeping him in sight. He raced down the other side of a tree and we ran up just in time to see him dive into a hollow hole in the tree. Frank handed me the little Winchester .22 bolt action single shot. We decided I would sit off about twenty yards and watch the hole. Frank said he had something to do and we would met me back at camp. His parting words I will never forget for as long as I live. Don’t miss I am starving.
I sat with my back to the tree. Watching the hole. After ten minutes or so the squirrel poked his head out took a quick sweep of the area and ducked back in. Good deal. I can’t shoot until he is most of the way out of the hole. Even then it would have to be a head shot. A wounded squirrel could make it back in and we would go hungry again. A few minutes passed. It was starting to get dark. Come on squirrel it is time to come out and play. He poked his head out and looked all around. Slowly I raised the gun. I calmed my breathing down. I aimed at the squirrel taking my time. Ok, at least half his body has to be out before I can shoot. He ducked back in. Is he ever coming out or is darkness going to win the battle, I wondered. A few minutes passed. He is there again I can barely see the sights in the pre sunset hours. He turns and starts to climb up the tree and pauses. Now is my chance. I calmed down remembering my Dad’s words from the shooting range. Relax, calm down, slowing squeeze the trigger. The .22 cracked. The squirrel tenses up on the tree. I work the bolt reaching in my pocket for a shell never taking my eye off the squirrel. One paw falls off the tree. I stood up a big smile on my face, shoving the shell in as I started to walk up to the tree. Anther front paw let go and he fell backwards. But, he never fell to the ground. His back legs still stuck in the hole in the tree. There is my prize laid upside down fifteen feet in the air.
Just my luck, I leaned the gun against a tree. I searched all over for a long enough branch to knock the squirrel down. It was really getting dark fast when I found a branch I thought would be long enough. Running back to the tree. Standing on my tiptoes I could just reach the squirrel. I swung the branch from the right and hit the squirrel. He swung with the branch, but didn’t fall. I kept hitting him and there he is swinging away. Give me a break, I thought. Darkness is full on now. I can just barely see the squirrel’s dark form. I cut off one of the branches on the stick I was using and sharpened the end. I swung the branch up standing on tiptoes swinging back and forth in the dark. After what seemed like hours I hooked the squirrel. Jumping up with stick popping the squirrel out of the hole. Free at last. When my feet touch the ground I flipped the squirrel off the stick. There he finally comes to the ground. Oh man, you got to be kidding me about ten feet up was a branch and just my luck the squirrel landed and stuck in it. But ten feet up in the air was not so bad. I quickly knocked him to the ground. Grabbing the hard earned prize. Now, get the gun and head back to camp.
Oh my God, where is the gun? Which tree did I lean it against? The flashlight was back at camp. I searched and searched for about ten minutes than figured we need to wait until daylight. If I can’t find it I am sure it will be there when we return in the morning. I walked back to camp and Frank looked up from the fire. He had coffee going and was cooking something in the fry pan. I walked in and a big smile crossed his face seeing the squirrel in hand. I grabbed the flashlight and walked down to the small creek and cleaned the squirrel.
Returning with the squirrel on a stick for roasting I asked Frank what are you cooking ? He said, “It is surprise.” I had some coffee as the squirrel cooked over the fire. Dinner is served. The surprise Frank was doing as I battled the squirrel, the tree, and darkness was fresh cattail roots. He dug them up, cleaned them, peeled off the rough spots, diced them like potatoes and steam cooked them in the frying pan that is part of the mess kit. I must say that was one of the best meals I have ever ate.
The bet was until 4:00 PM Monday. The next morning first thing we quickly found the .22. Then we pulled the set lines. Nothing on them. Frank said, Lets try to fish again.” We tried until about noon then dug cattails roots and cooked them for lunch. We cleaned up the camp and packed up and headed out. Four days and we survived. It wasn’t the easy adventure we thought it would be, but it was the beginning of the path to learning how to survive in the woods.
