3 August 2011

Morning, and the elk were gone. Einar did not at first believe his eyes, crouched there blinking in the dim predawn light--he’d awakened with the first hint of grey on the eastern horizon, rolling stiffly from their evergreen bed, huddling close beside a boulder in hopes of avoiding some of the wind and working to restore some flexibility to cold limbs--scrubbed his face with a sleeve in an attempt to clear up his vision but when he looked again there was no doubt, and he could not understand it. Breeze sighing up from the valley below--that it had been doing so all night he was quite sure, having felt its every gust and whisper quite keenly through his thin covering of deer hide--could not possibly have tipped the creatures off to their presence, as it put them directly upwind of the bedding area, and certainly neither he nor Liz had done anything in the night to spook the animals. What, then? Squinting into the dimness he searched for an explanation, knowing such animals, once bedded down for the night, would not tend to leave before daybreak without some serious provocation, and urgently needing to know what might have prompted their departure. Nothing made itself immediately obvious when he retrieved the binoculars and got them focused on the area--not an easy task, as he found himself unable to quite still the cold tremors in his hands, entire body soon trembling in the sharp morning breeze, and he knew he needed to eat--the elk meadow looking exactly as it had that past evening, except that it was now devoid of elk.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, he’d simply overslept, got the wrong idea about how early the creatures might leave in search of water, and slept through their departure. Interesting thought, and a good bit less sinister than some of the other possibilities, but Einar knew better. It was practically still dark, and he’d observed enough elk to know that they ought to just be beginning to stir about, a few early risers lumbering up from their grassy beds to begin nibbling at a bit of breakfast. Something had spooked them, caused them to leave in the night, and Einar, holding his breath and trying his best to keep the glasses from dancing and jerking, searched out along the ridge to the spot where it dropped away steeply to the valley in a jumble of sharply fractured red sandstone reminiscent of the rim on which he’d balanced so joyfully that previous afternoon, and there, amongst the broken rock and scattered, snow-patched timber at the edge of the world, he saw them. Not the entire herd so far as he could see, but three or four elk were clearly visible there amongst the timber in the strengthening light, large, dark-maned shapes standing out clearly against the patch of snow on which they stood, watchfully observing the vast open space of the meadow and appearing tense, nervous, ready to bolt at any moment. Beginning himself to feel rather the same way, Einar dropped to his belly and crawled back over to Liz where she lay still peacefully sleeping on her mattress of live fir--alone, he noted, for Muninn the raven had disappeared too, sometime in the night, not like him at all--hand on her shoulder until she woke and looked at him. Silence, he motioned to her, silence, and follow me…

Crawling together back over to the boulder from which the elk meadow was visible--it wasn’t easy for Liz, heavy with child, to low-crawl anywhere at all, but somehow, sensing the urgency in his demeanor, she managed it--Einar pointed in the direction of the departed elk. Liz saw at once the problem, her heart sinking as the prospect of a fairly easy and successful hunt faded from before her eyes, but she could not understand Einar’s insistence on silence, the urgent, furtive energy behind his movements--would have understood had the elk moved closer in the night, been within earshot, but she had already looked, had seen nothing--tried to ask him about it but he hushed her once more, voice a mere breath of air that she had to lean close to hear.

“Quiet. Got to keep things quiet. Sound really carries up here.”

“Carries where? What are you concerned about? They’re already gone…”

“What do you think spooked the elk…?”

“Well, I guess it could have been just about…” She stopped, looked at him with eyes suddenly wide, face gone white, and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah. Exactly. Not many things up here that can prod an elk herd into moving before dawn, and until we get our eyes on whatever did it this time, we got to assume we have company up here.”

Liz got very quiet then, rolling to her side and scooting back until she was mostly concealed beneath the mat of evergreens on which they’d slept, not wanting Einar to see just how alarmed she was at the possible implications. It’s so open up here. What are we going to do? We’ve got nowhere to go, nowhere at all without exposing ourselves as we cross hundreds of yards of open meadow…they’ll see us if we try to get away! Ashamed at her moment of near-panic and seeing that Einar appeared entirely calm--dead-calm, actually, deadly calm and looking more like a hunter, a predator than he had in a very long time--she took a big breath and tried her best to push aside the rising frenzy within her--wanted to run, to get down into the lowest area she could find and make a run for the timber far below--slow her thoughts and come up with some way to help. Einar already had a way, was rolling up the hides under which they’d slept, loading them into packs and she helped him, quickly getting into her own pack and--she hadn’t forgotten about his injured ribs, even if he seemed to have, for the moment--easing Einar’s onto his back. Nodding his thanks, he crouched beside her, face close to her ear.

“See in the timber over there on the edge? Where the land falls away? Three, four elk over there still, so I think that’s where the herd went. Gonna have to be real careful how we handle this one since whatever spooked the critters may still be in the area, but if we keep down below this little rise of rock here, walk kinda stooped over and even crawl at times, looks like we can probably work our way over there without being spotted by anyone who might be over beyond the elk meadow, on the ridge. Elk were looking over in that direction just a minute ago, like that’s where the threat was. I still intend to take an elk if we can. Plus, that’ll give us access to that timber so we can hopefully drop down into the valley without much chance of being seen, afterwards. Not many good ways out of this place, but that looks like one of them.”

Nodding, Liz thought that sounded like a very good idea, especially the part where they were able to get away off the terrible open expanse of the ridge without spending too much time out where they would be visible to whatever unseen enemy might be lurking in the dark rock-shadows or behind one of the tree islands similar to the one which had sheltered them for the night--she was sure beyond any doubt that the elk had been spooked by a human or humans, though she couldn’t have explained the cause for her conviction, had Einar asked her just then--for she had not seen how they were to accomplish anything of the sort. Motioning to her to follow, Einar started off along the low rise of rock behind which they had passed the night, himself keeping low and urging her to do the same, pausing now and then to carefully raise himself by the few inches necessary to give him a view of the open expanse of the ridge beyond their somewhat concealed route, never seeing a thing out of place but always alert for any sign of human presence. Aside from the odd behavior of the elk…

It took them a good fifteen or twenty minutes to work their way along those rocks, keeping low and moving cautiously until the rocks ran out, a good hundred yards short of the area of broken rock and timber where Einar had spotted the remaining elk, and their route off the ridge. Einar stopped, lowered himself to his stomach on the ground and squinted across the wide open expanse of yellowing grass before them. Hadn’t counted on the rocks running out, had been prevented by a dip in the land from seeing that they didn’t extend all the way to the timber, and the unforeseen occurrence left him somewhat unsure how best to proceed. Motioning to Liz to keep low he peered up over the little ridge; nothing in sight save a nearby snow bank, some scattered red rocks and a lot of short-cropped grass, nothing to prevent their reaching that band of timber, and safety, and he was about to lead them quickly out into the open and across, when something caught his eye, a flash just on the edge of vision almost behind them on the far side of the ridge, and he stopped.

Comments from 2 August

Anonymous/EdD270 said...

Well, I'm glzd to be back in touch with EA and Liz, and caught up on their story. Our computer crashed and it took the computer-smart folks at the repair shop a couple weeks to get it up and running again. I'm a techno-illiterate.

Thanks for the chapters, FOTH, and the great pics. Make me homesick for CO. Thanks to all for their comments, too. I enjoy reading them.

I'm wondering why EA didn't take the opportunity to take a coyote or two. Their fur, even though not prime at this time of year, is very warm and don't frost up, would make excellent parka hoods or baby wraps.

Also wonder why EA has never gotten around to making himself a bow and arrows. They're more accurate than the atlatal, and have longer range. While this blog format is not as handy as the forum was, it's far far better than nothing.

EdD270

Why won't this thing let me post a comment?

Glad you got the comment to work, and glad your computer is running again, too! They can be a major hassle when they refuse to work properly...

Einar ought to have taken a coyote or two while he had the chance, and not allowed himself to get so absorbed in driving them off the remains of that elk that he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity.

As for why he hasn’t made himself a bow and arrows--he made one for Liz, which she has become quite adept at using, but he got a lot of practice with the atlatl while he had the injured shoulder and could not use a bow, and with the various injuries he’s had to deal with, including, currently, the ribs, I think he’s found it more advantageous to go on using the atlatl.

2 August 2011

A great gully cut across the most direct route between Einar and Liz and the high, open ridge top that held the elk herd, and for a time they sat together on their red rock perch, studying the terrain and trying to decide whether they would be better off heading straight down and across the draw, or cutting far out of their way to the left, adding perhaps as much as a mile to their journey but avoiding the additional descent and climb that would be necessary to traverse the draw. Einar was all for taking the most direct line, striking off across the draw, down and then back up but Liz, wanting very much to spare him the additional climbing and thinking it wasteful of their energy to lose elevation when they would only have to gain it again, advocated for sticking to the ridge. After a bit of back-and-forth conversation Einar, who having sat for a bit and lost some of the animated vigor that had buoyed him along and kept him thus far moving more quickly than he perhaps reasonably ought to have been able, agreed to stick to the ridge top. Knew he would have been hard pressed to physically make it up the far side of the draw that evening, had they chosen that route. Ridge would give them a better view, too, allowing them to look down into the valleys on either side of the ridge and scout for the potential hazards posed by other hunters who might be camped down in the nearby basins or at one of the small, sheltered lakes that dotted the timber far below on the ridge’s far side.

Leaving the red rocks from which they had first spotted the elk the two of them returned to the ridge’s sharply fractured edge, following it around the head of the timbered draw and making their way towards the sandstone and tundra grass spur where the elk appeared close to settling in for the night, some of them already lying down. A good sign, so far as Einar was concerned, for it appeared they would still be there in the morning, hopefully giving the two of them the opportunity to work their way in close enough to make a good shot. A low escarpment of sandstone, they were able to see in the dimming post-sunset light as they neared the spot, stood not twenty yards from the area of the vast meadow where the elk had settled in for the night, and Einar spoke in hushed, excited tones as he detailed the night they would spend in the low evergreen vegetation some distance back from those rocks, stalking closer just before dawn and choosing an elk or two. Liz had already gone through the sequence in her mind but nodded enthusiastically at Einar’s telling of it, glad to see that he appeared to have regained a bit of the energy that had got him up the slope and onto the ridge in the first place, despite an obvious and ongoing struggle with the thin air.

As they traversed the ridge top together in the fading light of evening, Liz found herself increasingly confident in Einar’s ability not only to survive the expedition--she had at times been somewhat skeptical, though of course she’d never let on to him--but to help her carry out a successful hunt and return with the elk whose meat and hide would leave them much more well set to face the coming winter. He was, as usual, finding ways to adapt to his situation and to keep going, scraping together his strength and somehow finding it adequate to the task, but still Liz found herself a bit sad as she watched him, knowing that a good bit of his struggle was self-imposed and, from her perspective at least, avoidable. Wished she had some way to get him talking about it, perhaps help him through some of his present difficulties. If he wanted help, which it appeared he most likely did not, and she would have thought herself unkind and selfish for wanting so badly to interfere with his way of handling what was obviously a very personal matter, had it not appeared so likely that his way was going to leave their child without a father. That possibility, it seemed, gave her the right--if not the duty--to try and interfere in ways which she would not ordinarily have considered.

Well. Perhaps they would have such a talk in the near future, but not that night. Had plenty on their plate already for that night, with darkness coming on quickly, camp to set up and supper to eat--not that Einar would be likely to want any, and she shook her head at the thought, hoped she was wrong--and Liz shook herself from her contemplation, hurried to catch up to Einar, who had once again pulled ahead and was nearing the little smear of evergreen vegetation which was to be their camp for the night. Muninn, having already flown ahead and circled the elk herd a time or two, was settling himself in the topmost branches of one of the little firs that jutted up scrawny and stunted from the ground-creeping mats of the same species, little tree bowing and swaying under his weight, but holding.

That night, cold in a fireless camp, for they had not wanted to do anything to spook the elk herd where they lay sleeping not five hundred yards distant, Einar lay shivering in the freshly smoked deer hide on their springy, somewhat soft bed of living evergreen mat, his earlier elation vanished, all the brittle joy of the afternoon crumbled and gone black around him, leaving only the hurt of his ribs as he sucked in the thin, high altitude air and a hunger that grated and twisted and left him pressing an elbow into his stomach, feeling disconcertingly weak and ready to do just about anything to experience a bit of relief, get a good quiet night for once. He fought it, that weakness, knew it was at such times when he must make his greatest effort and, though with difficulty, he overcame. Lay there still and uncomplaining--even, finally, quieting the would-be complaints that wanted to trip over one other in his mind, speaking all at once in a cacophony of anger and frustration and hungry, hurting yearning anguish, a great challenge indeed and a difficult one--as the last light faded and overhead a great arc of stars began appearing one by one to pierce the sky with their cold, unblinking light.

Liz, weary from the day’s climbing and herself reasonably comfortable on what felt rather like a soft and supportive hammock of living vegetation, was unable to quite settle in and give herself over to sleep, sensing Einar’s struggle and wanting so badly to ease things for him that at last she felt her way over to the spot where he had curled up near her on the fir mat, hand on his ankle so as not to take him by surprise. When he did not react she curled herself around him, draping her blanket--the freshly smoked sheep hide, for those of the bears had been too heavy to reasonably carry--over the two of them, for his was clearly proving inadequate. For a time Einar lay stiff and unmoving, trying not to shiver and disturb her as he stared up wide-eyed and wrinkle-browed at the stars overhead but she was insistent, working some warmth back into his shoulders, smoothing the strained furrows from his forehead and wrapping an arm around his middle, holding his ribs until his breathing grew a bit easier, and at last he yielded, relaxing against her and taking her hand.

“Tomorrow, Lizzie, we get our elk…”

Comments from 1 August

colspt said...
That's a little bit of good fortune.

FOTH, I don't think I've told you how much I appreciate the steady way you keep these chapters coming. Thank you, thank you.

Well, thank you for reading and for helping to keep the discussion going! I really appreciate everyone’s patience as we try to get this blog situation figured out and working smoothly.

AlaskaSue said...
Oh Fantastic! I have to say, too, that sometimes I feel exactly like Einar when I'm in the mountains (even with full access to plenty of oxygen!) -- sometimes it just takes you away with it's beauty, not matter the season or the weather. He is so much a part of the place that it's good to see him able to find joy, whether it's due to sufficient oxygen or not, and I sure understand Liz' concern! Some days though, when the delicate traceries of mist curl around a mountain shoulder, or a big puff of cloud just nestles right into a glacier bowl with the sun sparkling off the dew and lighting up the wildflowers, well, all one can do is thank God for His gracious love that gave us such beauty and the eyes and the heart to see!

Beautiful image of your home there in the mountains, Susan, with the glacier and wildflowers, and you’re right--sometimes the wonder of it all does leave one in wordless amazement. It would be difficult for Einar not to find joy in that, I think, no matter his circumstances. And sometimes there’s just no better place to be than balancing on the edge of the world…

Anonymous/Philip said...
Off Topic of Mountain Refuge (which everyone knows Gram Pa & the Kidd love!!!!)

philip offers, for the acknowledgment of all, the purchase, 08 01 20011, of his New Home: "Small Beginnings"

a 27 foot Dodge Motor Home. This is prayers answered.

Thank you Heavenly Father, for "Small Beginnings", May, that it Serve YOUR purpose, in my life.

philip

Philip, I’m so happy to hear of this answer to your prayers. Congratulations on your new home! Sounds just perfect for you.

May your "Small Beginning" lead to great things, and always be a blessing to you, and to others in your life.

Anonymous/CC said...
You know, finding hides might be something that happens from year to year. Occasionally anyway. Hmmmmm.

-CC

Hunters almost never pack out the hides around here. I’ve got ahold of quite a number that way, both deer and elk--just stumbling across them.

Anonymous/Meplat said...
No need to say anything. I’m just stirring the pot. Trying to wake up the troops. Hummm.... Is that trolling? ;)

Meplat

Not if you mean what you’re saying…

FrRichard said...
Excellent chapter. I believe they both know what is going on, the risks and rewards; yes he may need to work at healing as much as she needs to prepare for the new little one; but they need to do it together. I would not be in favor of her walking out at this point in time; I believe they are right where they need to be....
Keep up the great story, and let's get back to some cliff hangings again....
God bless

I can’t believe it! Someone is asking for the cliff hangers to return… Don’t worry. They will be back.

Yes, Liz knew what she was getting into from the beginning, and while Einar is obviously not easy to live with, I don’t think she’s about to leave, now.

1 August 2011

Moving carefully down the steep, sparsely timbered slope that led to the little basin which had drawn Muninn’s interest, Einar did his best to keep them concealed, hurrying from one little spit of firs to another and taking advantage of the occasional cluster of stunted, snow-twisted aspens to work their way in a bit closer to the clearing down below. It was slow going, the slope cut here and there with shallow draws full of loose, rotten sandstone that threatened to give way and go clattering down under the pressure of their feet, and Einar, not yet having a clear idea what might await them down in the clearing, was determined to make their approach a quiet one. A precaution for which, as it turned out, there had been little need, for the ruckus reached their ears even before they made the ring of taller, more robust aspens that sheltered the clearing, a chorus of yips and snarls giving them a pretty clear indication of why the raven had thus far been unwilling to descend and make a landing, despite obviously having found something in that clearing to hold his interest. Coyotes. A good number of them from the sound of things, and Einar motioned to Liz to cross the slope, approach the clearing from the side opposite his own.

Reaching the edges of the clearing nearly simultaneously and crouching amongst the low-growing vegetation that flourished beneath the aspens, Liz and Einar made visual contact with on another, Einar pointing to a spot where three coyotes--had sounded like a good many more--stood snarling and tearing at what appeared to be the well picked-over remains of an elk carcass. Cautious, Einar studied the scene, trying to determine how the animal might have died and finding his answer in a length of frayed orange baling twine that hung swaying gently in the breeze from a head-high branch on one of the nearby aspens. Hunters had clearly been in the area, had--judging by the boldness of the coyotes--clearly left some time ago, too, yet still he was cautious, suddenly fearing the entire thing a trap and not wanting risk walking straight up to the carcass without further investigation. Catching Liz’s eye once more he made a circular motion to indicate his intention to make a circuit of the clearing, silently gesturing for her to wait for him where she was. Liz understood, took up a position against one of the larger aspens in the area where she could watch and cover him with the bow--the coyotes did not especially worry her, but something clearly had him spooked, and she wondered if he might have caught a glimpse of something that aroused his suspicions…not that it took much--until he returned.

Moving at a low crouch as he carefully surveyed the clearing, searching for any irregularity in the surrounding trees, any indication that the hunters might have been after more than elk during their time there, Einar worked his way around the borders of the clearing, testing the air, listening, hearing nothing aside from the rustling of wind in fall-yellowing aspens, the occasional muted growl and grunt from the feeding coyotes, and far overhead, Muninn’s harsh rasping as he made yet another circuit of the area. Easing over to the spot where the length of baling twine still hung quite noticeably from its aspen branch he searched for any further signs of human presence, seeing only what appeared to be a series of week-old tracks, or older--two individuals, both somewhere near six feet high but one a good bit heavier than the other--beneath the tree where the hunters had skinned and gutted the elk. Einar let out a guarded sigh, stepped out into the clearing, one eye on the coyotes and the other watching the sky, dart in place and atlatl ready for action.

Nothing happened. No sudden rush of armed men emerging from the trees to take him, no orange-feathered dart sticking into his shoulder, no distant but fast-approaching rumble emerging from behind the next ridge. Not even the coyotes seemed to be paying him much mind. Apparently didn’t regard him as much of a threat, which Einar did not take as a good sign, and he charged at them with a roar that very quickly changed their minds, left them scattering into the trees like shadows, disappearing. He waved to Liz and she joined him, standing with him over the much beleaguered carcass of what had once been a large bull elk. The head had been taken, hindquarters gone and only the smallest shreds remaining in the neck area, ribs and on the legs where the coyotes had not yet entirely decimated it, only the stinking, picked-over paunch remaining of the gut pile, but the thing that drew Einar’s eye was the animal’s hide, cast carelessly aside beneath an aspen and, dried out and somewhat chewed in one spot by the scavenging coyotes, but still quite useable. The skinning had been executed with a considerable amount of skill, little meat or fat remaining to either tempt scavengers or promote spoilage of the hide. Struggling to manipulate the stiff, drying leather Einar folded it up, lashed it to his pack and knew the day would, because of the raven's help, be counted as a success even if they did not put their eyes on live elk. Which there seemed a reasonably good chance they might, considering that a herd clearly frequented the area, and had put in an appearance no more than a week ago when their scavenged kill was made. Muninn, growing more comfortable in the absence of the coyotes, found his way down to the clearing and took a seat in the great hollow ribcage of the deceased elk, picking at bits of meat and generally acting very proud of himself.

“Good find, critter,” Einar congratulated him, slicing a bit of meat from the elk’s neck area and holding it out to the bird. “Guess you can stick with us for the moment, if you’re gonna be showing us things like this. We’d have walked right past it, for sure.”

Liz, also, offered the bird a token shred of meat, which he accepted. “It helps to have our own eyes in the sky for once, doesn’t it?”

“Ha! Yeah, unless he ends up leading them to us with his strange behavior, circling over our camp or something until folks take a notion to come and investigate…we’ll have to watch him real close here for a while, but he’s looking more and more like an asset, for sure.”

“The hide’s still good, isn’t it?”

“Yep! Big one, with only a bit of damage here and there…should go a long way towards making us that second parka, or a pair of fur-lined snow pants.”

“It looks heavy. What do you say to hanging it way up in one of these trees here, and picking it up on our way back down?”

Einar looked doubtful. Or worse. Looked downright suspicious, actually, though he hadn’t necessarily meant for Liz to see it, as it wasn’t directed at her. “Nope, I don’t want us coming within a ridge or two of this place anytime again soon. Looks like a real straightforward situation, hunter took an elk, skinned it out and packed the meat and head down the hill, but…no. We need to take the hide with us right now, if we want to have it. Can cache it once we get back up on the route to the ridge, maybe, leave it under the rocks--since there aren’t really any trees to speak of up there--where we can pick it back up on our way down…some risk in that, but the thing must weight somewhere near forty five, fifty pounds, and we’d be moving a lot faster without it. Guess I really would like to minimize the time we’re gonna spend up on the ridge, as exposed as it is up there. Yep, let’s cache it on our route. I’ll carry it up the hill ‘til we find the right spot.”

The climb was a long one, Einar keeping himself going with some difficulty until they reached the slope that would be their likely return route, upon which he sat down rather suddenly and began burying the hide beneath the largest rocks he, with Liz’s help, could drag over it. Up that high there was very little danger of bears happening along, and they were both confident that no coyote could move the granite slabs with which they were protecting their prized hide. Hide secured as well as they were able they started once again up the slope, sun beginning to sink lower in the sky and red ridge-top still some fifteen hundred feet above. It did not take Einar long to find his pace once more, a rhythm that carried him up over the rocks, ordered his breathing and kept him moving.

Einar, reaching the ridge top somewhat over an hour later, found himself elated, skipping from rock to rock with a lightness and ease that belied his physical condition and finding the world--the entire thing, every detail of their stark, rocky windswept surroundings, peaks streaked with white in the distance and anywhere from six to eight layers of rugged, spruce-prickling ridges lying folded in a jumbled yet somehow strangely orderly fashion to fill the intervening space--unbelievably, incomprehensibly beautiful, right, good. Liz, arriving breathless a few steps behind him and staring out at the panorama that awaited her view was similarly pleased to have reached the summit, an important landmark in their quest for elk, but it was with an understandable bit of caution that she viewed the sudden change in Einar's demeanor; he clearly wasn't getting enough oxygen, and the fact that it had not only ceased to bother him but left him rather more exuberant than usual did not strike her as particularly reassuring. Not much to do about it, though, and she followed him as he took off across the great expanse of tilted, tundra-grassed, quartz-pebbled red sandstone, hanging back slightly as he danced and skipped like a madman along its far and fractured edge, great glacial bowls sweeping down in unbroken expanses of shattered rock and lingering snow to the timber some two thousand feet below, dancing on the edge of the world, arms uplifted to the sky.

They sighted their first elk near sundown, a barely perceived flicker of motion in a patch of grass that stood all brown and billowy like a cloud-shadow amongst lingering snowbanks catching Liz's eye. When they sat down and pulled out binoculars it was to find that while the movement had indeed been that of an elk, the creatures so far away as to be difficult to make out, a good half mile away and far out of either atlatl or bow range--though I’d make the shot with a good rifle, Einar thought to himself, too bad I don’t have one of my rifles--and they decided to work their way in closer, moving carefully and planning on spending the night in one of the large clusters of stunted sub alpine firs that lay black and matted--for truly they were little more than mats of ground cover, at that elevation--closing in on the creatures just after daybreak the next morning.

Elk herd in the high country

Similar to what Einar and Liz saw from the top of the ridge

Comments from 31 July

Anonymous said...
Muninn. I'm hoping that he's the second best thing, behind Liz, that has taken Einar under his wing.

Seems to be working out very well, so far.

Anonymous said...
In my experience when ravens and some other birds exhibit this sort of behavior it usually means there is a predator on the prowl. I would put my money on a cat, bear, canine, or human over deer, elk, or sheep. But I am sure Einar knows this and will take appropriate precautions.

Yes--the raven’s behavior needs to be taken as much as a warning as anything.

Meplat wrote:

This is RE the preiouse chapter but I am just learing to get a post to work on here

Meplat--No problem about the posting, I know this format tends not to be as user-friendly as a forum setting, unfortunately.

Meplat wrote:
Bears can open a vehicle like a tin can. Not just one of the modern foil and plastic fluff pieces mind you, but a real 1940’s or 50’s truck. I’ve seen it. They are taking at least as much risk of losing an elk or two worth of provisions by walking away from that makeshift cabin for a day or two, as they stand to gain. And Einar may kill himself doing it. He is not thinking clearly.

There is indeed some danger of a bear getting into the cabin, though not nearly as much with the little black bears they have in the area as if they were in grizzly country! The bears up there, though, are not accustomed to humans (which is when bears get really dangerous--losing their fear of the human scent) and will not tend to be terribly bold with the cabin until Einar and Liz have been away for a good while and their scent fades. The longer they’re gone, the greater the danger does become.

Meplat wrote:
Liz needs to tell Einar that she refuses to put their child in danger by starting into an alpine winter with a man bent on killing himself. She needs to make it clear that unless he gets his PTSD under control she will have to walk out to Susan’s before the snow flies in earnest, and take Kilgore up on his relocation offer. It’s not right, I know she signed on for better or worse, but the child must come first, and sometimes there is no clear honorable choice in life.

I don’t even know what to say to you there…