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

by A. Hyatt Verrill

This all sounds very simple and easy, now that I come to write it down, but as a matter of fact it required hours of hard, back-breaking, hand-blistering work, and by the time this much was accomplished I was faint with hunger. I succeeded in finding and eating a few mussels, but I had no time to devote to frog-hunting, and hurried back to my house-building. Across the two slanting poles other lighter poles were placed, and over these the broad “fans” of fir were spread like shingles, the lowest layer being placed first with each succeeding layer overlapping the last. This was comparatively easy work, for the twigs were small and easy to cut, and by late afternoon I had a shack which, though not by any means complete, was far better than nothing but the blue sky for a shelter.

HOW THE “LEAN-TO” WAS BUILT

I had an hour or two of daylight left, and determined to look for a likely spot for frogs. I dared not walk far into the forest for fear of losing my way in the fading afternoon light, but even a tramp of a few hundred yards away from the river was enough to convince me that there were no swamps or ponds in the vicinity, for the ground was quite hilly and rocky. Deciding that my only chance lay in finding stray frogs in the pools of the river, I walked down-stream for some distance, searching carefully wherever there was a backwater or a puddle of water along the shore. I found a number of mussels, which I pocketed, but no sign of frogs until I had traveled perhaps half a mile from my fire. At this point a small brook fell in a tiny cascade over the bank into the river, and, clambering up, I found that the little stream ran through an open vale or glade luxuriant with ferns, brush, and rank-growing plants. The stones over which it flowed were dark with a coating of moss, and in the deep, still pools between the boulders I caught glimpses of great speckled trout lurking in the shadows. It was an ideal trout-brook and I tried my best to spear one of the beautiful fish, but without success. However, I was rather pleased at my discovery, for even without fishing-tackle I felt confident that I could dam up one of the pools, bail out the water, and catch the trout with my hands. But there was no time for this just then. In the hope of finding a frog I went on up the brook. I had all but given up in despair when I reached a second miniature waterfall, and above this cascade I came upon a little pond surrounded by alders and birches. It was a cool, shady spot and the dark, black water flecked with patches of green weeds and lily-pads gave promise of frogs. Hardly had I reached the edge of the pool when I spied a fine bullfrog squatting among the weeds, and a moment later he had been successfully speared. I was delighted with the success of my crude weapon and crept cautiously around the pond, seeking more victims. Frogs were plentiful and were very tame, for probably man had never disturbed them, and before the growing dusk warned me that it was time to return to my camp I had obtained seven fine, big hoppers. As I was making my way toward the brook and the cascade I was startled by some good-sized creature which sprang from the grass at the border of the pond and plunged into the water. A moment later I saw a furry, brown head followed by a silvery, rippling wake, cleaving the placid surface of the pond, and realized that the animal which had caused my momentary fright was merely a harmless muskrat. I stopped and watched the creature for several moments and longed to be able to secure him, for I well knew that muskrats are edible and are even esteemed a delicacy. More than once I had eaten their tender, white meat when cooked by Joe. It was useless to give the matter any consideration, however, for without a gun the muskrat was far beyond my reach, and reluctantly I proceeded on my way.

Presently I noticed a path-like trail winding through the grass and weeds, and, looking closely, discovered the imprint of little feet upon the soft and muddy ground. I recognized the muskrat’s runway, and with the realization came the thought that I might trap the rats. To be sure, I had no traps at hand, but I had seen deadfalls set in the woods by the fur trappers and, while my memory was hazy as to just how they were arranged, I felt quite confident that my ingenuity would find a way to rig up some sort of snare or deadfall which would serve my purpose. With my mind filled with such thoughts I made my way back to my fire, which I reached just as darkness fell upon the wilderness. I dined well that night on frogs, and placed my mussels in a pool beside the river as a reserve for another day.

Much of the evening I spent experimenting with bits of twigs and sticks of wood, endeavoring to devise a deadfall, and by dint of racking my memory for details of traps I had seen, and by trying various methods, I finally discovered several different triggers which I felt would work, and, well satisfied with my day’s labors and success, I fell asleep upon a bed of soft fir branches in the lean-to.

A couple of the frogs, which I had kept over, with a few mussels, served for my breakfast the next morning, and I then set diligently at work to complete my shelter, for a light shower had fallen during the night and my clothes were soaking wet when I awoke. To make the roof water-tight was my first consideration and to accomplish this I peeled sheets of birch bark from the trees, laid them like shingles on the roof, and secured them in place by rocks from the river-bed. At first I had trouble in preventing the stones from sliding and rolling off the slanting roof, but I soon devised a means of holding them in position by placing light branches across the roof and catching their ends on the projecting stubs of the roof timbers. In many ways I was greatly handicapped for want of string or rope. It occurred to me that strips of birch bark might serve, but I soon found that this had no strength to speak of, and I determined to try other materials. The Indians, I well knew, used bark, roots, and withes for rope, but I had no knowledge of the particular barks, roots, or withes which they employed, and I set myself to experimenting with everything that grew in the neighborhood. I soon eliminated many as useless, although certain roots appeared tough and fibrous, but these were all too gnarled and knobby or too short to serve as string. It was then that I began to realize how little I really knew of woodcraft or forest lore, although I had spent so many vacations in the woods. No doubt Joe or any other woodsman would have found life easy and simple if cast, as I was, upon his resources in the forest, but I had depended so completely upon others’ knowledge that I was obliged to seek blindly for the simplest things and only occasionally remembered some trifling bit of woodcraft which I had seen when in Joe’s company in the forest.

While thinking of this I was sitting beside my hut. When I attempted to rise, my hand came in contact with a sharp stub projecting from the earth. It was a small thing—merely a twig which I had cut off while clearing the open space before my shelter—and to avoid further trouble with it, I grasped it and strove to pull it up. Much to my surprise, it resisted my efforts. Seizing it with both hands, I jerked at it with all my strength. Slowly it gave, and then, with a ripping sound, broke from the loose, thin earth, and I tumbled backward and sprawled upon the ground. I was curious to learn how such a small thing could be so strongly embedded in the soil and I examined it carefully. Attached to the bit of stem was a mass of long, fibrous roots. Seizing one of these, I attempted to break it. I twisted and pulled, but the root remained intact, and suddenly it dawned upon me that here was the very material I desired—that these roots were as strong and tough as hempen rope, and that by merest accident I had stumbled upon the very thing for which I had been searching. Unfortunately, I did not know what plant the roots belonged to, for only an inch or two of stem remained, and while the supply of roots it bore would serve my present needs, I was very anxious to learn the identity of the useful growth in case I should require more roots in the future. With this end in view I set about comparing the bark and wood with other young sprouts in the vicinity, and whenever one resembled it I pulled it up and examined the roots. I searched for some time before I was rewarded, and discovered that my lucky find was a young hemlock. Pine fir, spruce, and other trees I had tried in vain, but hemlocks were not abundant, and those about were mostly large and had been passed by in my former search. Now that I had discovered a source of supply of binding materials, many problems which had confronted me were simplified and I was greatly encouraged.

It must not be supposed that during these first days of my life in the wilderness I had given no thought to making my way to the settlements. In fact, this matter was ever present in my mind, but the very first day I had decided that before I attempted to make my way out of the woods I must be equipped to secure food, provide shelter, and make fires. Anxious as I was to reach civilization, yet I knew how foolhardy it would be to start blindly forth, trusting to luck for food or shelter, and with my limited knowledge of woodcraft. Here, where I had been cast ashore, I was safe, at any rate, provided I could secure enough to eat, and I determined to make my headquarters at this spot until I could learn by experience something of the resources of the forest and how to make use of them. Already I had acquired much useful knowledge, and I felt that if I could only succeed in trapping animals or snaring birds I could start forth on my weary tramp in comparative safety as far as starvation was concerned.

I should have felt far more confident if I could have carried food with me, and I wondered if it would be possible to dry or cure frogs, mussels, or other meat. I knew that the Indians dried venison and made pemmican, which I had frequently eaten, and I had heard of certain tribes who subsisted upon dried salmon, but venison was unattainable with my present resources, and I was not at all sure that trout, even if I succeeded in obtaining them, would dry like salmon. Finally I decided to experiment, and, lacking all else, to carry a supply of live mussels along when I set forth. These shells, I knew, would live for several hours without water, and, as I intended to follow the river, I could easily keep them alive by frequent immersions in the water. Such thoughts brought up the question of vegetables, and I wondered if in these woods there were edible roots or tubers of any kind.