Marooned in the Forest: The Story of a Primitive Fight for Life

by A. Hyatt Verrill

My visitor was a porcupine, a great, clumsy creature who was far more frightened at my presence than I at his. Realizing that here was food come to my larder of its own free will, I scrambled out of bed, closed my door, and, carefully avoiding my prickly visitor, made my way toward the fire. Shoving a resinous stick into the coals, I soon had a flaming torch, and by its light I discovered the porcupine scratching and gnawing at the door in an endeavor to escape. I ended his career by knocking him over the nose, and then, barring the door to prevent any other nocturnal visitors from disturbing my slumber, I returned to bed.

The roasted porcupine proved most toothsome, and as I gnawed at his bones I wondered why I had not thought of hunting these creatures before. That they were abundant in the forest I knew, and I also was aware that they were considered excellent eating by all the guides and woodsmen, and yet, until one of the brutes actually forced his presence upon me porcupines had never occurred to me as a source of food. Now, however, I made up my mind to hunt up a den of the creatures at the first opportunity, for I knew that where one was found there were usually numbers of them.

I had met with some difficulty in removing the skin, with its innumerable sharp quills, but I had noticed how tough the hide was and I vaguely wondered if I could not manage to tan and use it.

With its adhering quills it was quite useless, and I realized that if merely dried, like the skin of the beaver, this tough, thick skin would be as stiff and hard as a board. If I was to make use of the hide at all I must devise some method of removing hair and quills and must tan the skin so that it would be flexible and soft. In my youth I had often visited a tannery and I knew that oak bark and sumach were used in making leather, but, rack my memory as I would, I could not remember ever having seen the process by which the hair was removed from the hides.

I attempted to pluck out the quills by hand, but only pricked my fingers, and I found it also impossible to cut or shave the hair and quills from the skin with my knife. I had worked at this for some time and was becoming thoroughly disgusted with the matter when it flashed across my mind that I might be able to remove the hair by decomposition. Many a time I had seen the hair or feathers drop from game which had been hung too long, and I knew that long before the meat was tainted or the hide was seriously injured the hair would come away. Realizing that the skin would dry before it would rot if hung up in the air, I buried it in the soft earth in a shady spot and spent some time gathering a quantity of oak and sumach bark, which I boiled in the iron pot.

Having accomplished this, I decided to hunt for the porcupine’s home. My foot was now paining me but slightly and I had become quite accustomed to the use of a crutch, so that I was able to start at once. Knowing that porcupines frequented rocky ledges, I turned my steps toward a little wooded rise. A few hundred yards from the cabin I came upon a mass of rocks with great cavities and fissures between them. This seemed a promising spot for a porcupine-den. In my crippled state it was difficult to make my way over and between the boulders, but I had plenty of time and I crawled and scrambled about, peering into every crevice and cranny. I had been thus engaged for several hours when in a deep fissure I saw numerous quills scattered about, while projecting roots in the vicinity were gnawed bare of bark. Here was the den, I felt sure, and without hesitation I scrambled down into it and peered into the darkness.

I could distinguish nothing at first, but as my eyes became accustomed to the obscurity of the cavern I saw a darker spot in the farther corner of the den and heard the rustling, rattling noise of a porcupine’s quills as the creature raised them in defense. Now that I had found my porcupine, the next question was how I was to capture him. I had no mind to attempt to grasp the rascal with my bare hands, and, like a fool, I had not brought my primitive weapons with me. I thought of building a fire and smoking the creature out and then knocking him over the head with a club, but my fire-making apparatus was in the cabin and I had no mind to make the journey again if it could be avoided. I was wondering how I could solve the puzzle when it occurred to me that I might snare him exactly as I had snared the partridges. In a few moments I had secured a strong strip of moosewood bark, had formed a noose in it, and with it attached lightly to the end of a slender pole I poked it into the cave and tried to slip it over the porcupine’s head.

THE PARTRIDGE-SNARE

But stupid and clumsy as he was, the brute backed away from the noose each time I poked it toward him, and if over and over again I was compelled to withdraw it and form the slip-noose anew. I was tired and cramped and was about to give in despair when I felt a tug at the bark, and, pulling upon it, found I had at least secured a hold upon my prey. Dropping the pole, I hauled on the strip of bark, and a moment later drew the porcupine from his lair, grunting, scratching, and bristling with anger.