By Kayla Challingsworth
th-wump, th-wump, th-wump
The rain finally slowed into a dull drizzle; the soft pitter-patter interrupted by the steady rhythm of the larger droplets falling from the trees.
thuwmp, thwump, thwump
I rolled over on my cot, reaching for my pocket watch on the makeshift bedside table. I shuffled my papers and clutter until my hand touched the cold brass of the watch. Drawing it close to my face, I could barely make out what time it was; somewhere around quarter after four in the morning. I’d been waking up consistently for the last few weeks or so. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the nylon ceiling. The moonlight permeated the raindrops and left perfectly little round shadows throughout the tent. I liked the relaxing rain. It hid the sounds of twigs snapping or far off cries. I slowly drifted back to sleep to the rain’s lullaby.
When I finally awoke, it was daylight. I unzipped the tent and peeked my head out. Steam was rolling off the creek. I crawled out of the tent and onto my fern-carpet of a front yard. The air was crisp, a tall-tale sign that the winter months were on their way.
Iggy, my golden lab, was already running around, following an invisible trail with her nose. I whistled a quick sharp note to get her attention. Once I had her focus, I gathered my bow and knife and left my little clearing for the dense forest which surrounded me. If Iggy and I wanted any chance of surviving the winter, we had to increase our food supply. By this late in the year, this season’s newborn deer were grown enough that they provided an acceptable amount of meat, but they weren’t too big to handle.
Iggy and I followed the creek until it opened into a slow-moving pool. The creek flowed from the north to the south, and a small meadow bordered the pool on its west. This area was a place for the animals to peacefully graze. I positioned myself in a crevice created by two large boulders on the perimeter of the meadow, patiently waiting.
The forest was decorated with large, magnificent boulders. I would even be inclined to consider them sculptures. When I was a young girl, I would plead with my father to take me into the woods to go “rock-gazing.” I remember the route that took us nearly all day to complete. Our favorite stops were “whale rock,” “head,” and finally the “white house.” My father told me the stories of when his own grandfather introduced him to these monuments. Apparently, they were already named before his grandfather had met them, too.
After a half an hour or so had passed, I heard Iggy’s breathing intensify. I knew that she had picked up the scent of an animal. She raised her head slowly, and I moved my own ever so slightly in her direction. The fawns had made their appearance in the sunlit meadow. They were still out of range for my stick-built bow. Patience is key in situations like this. I kept my focus on the twins as they neared the boulders. Suddenly, the wind shifted, and I was met by a horrendous odor, like rotten meat and eggs. The fawns must have caught wind of it too, for both their heads jerked up, and they sprinted in unison for the cover of the forest.
I scanned the perimeter of the meadow but found nothing unusual. I still smelled the lingering odor of wretched food. Iggy hunkered down deeper into the cracks between the two rocks. I followed her lead; we were not alone in this meadow. The woods fell dead silent. In the near distance we heard what sounded like a tree falling over. Then, silence again. Iggy and I waited another half an hour before deciding it was safe enough to emerge from hiding. The birds picked up their chirping by this time, and the squirrels bounced from tree to tree.
The entire trek back to my camp was daunting. Iggy was not acting herself. She stayed very close to me instead of trotting ahead following scents she picked up. If there is one thing I learned from living out here the past year, it is to always keep your guard up. I learnt quickly that humans are not the dominant species, especially when living in an environment other than our cozy suburban homes. This was exactly why I decided to do this experiment. I decided that I would spend two years out here in the woods. As a society, we had grown soft. Our “natural instincts” had shifted from survival to seeking comfort. Granted, I was only about seven miles away from the nearest civilization, but that was all the more distance it took to immerse myself in an unchartered environment. Take your own life for example: how many times have you seen a deer in your yard, or a squirrel bouncing around? We may believe that they are living in our world, but in perspective, we are the ones imposing on theirs.
Anyways, Iggy and I returned to camp without interruption. Next on our agenda for the day was to check the rabbit traps. As I prepared for this experiment, I packed four snares with me. I didn’t have to set them up too far from my camp for them to be effective. I placed them in the opposite direction of the meadow, following downstream towards the beaver dam. When I arrived at the first snare, I was happy to see a large rabbit caught in the trap. I opened and reset the snare and set off for the next trap carrying my rabbit by its hind legs. The following two snares hadn’t been tripped yet. However, the fourth snare was successful. The fourth trap was placed very near the bank of the beaver pond. Earlier last year when I first arrived here, I caught a large plump beaver in one of my snares. Since then, I haven’t caught another; they were too smart. This time, one of the beavers made a fatal mistake.
I gathered my harvest and started back for the camp with Iggy in tow. There was an old fallen tree in my camp. It was large enough in diameter that I could use it as a makeshift table. It was useful for many a thing, but today it was going to a skinning board. I started with the rabbit first, carefully carving the skin away from the meat. I sprawled its hide out on the log to dry in the sun. Then I began separating the meat from the bone. I repeated this process for the beaver. I turned to my fire pit and started work on creating flames. Early on I learned to stash firewood in a place where it was safe from the elements, otherwise it would be useless if it was soiled. I walked over and grabbed a few pieces, then arranged them in a teepee formation. I stuffed some dry twigs and leaves under the configuration to act as kindling. With a few strikes from my flint and steel, the fire was lit.
As I let the fire burn for a while, I collected some meat in a pan to cook. Once the teepee had collapsed and the fire condensed to a slow simmer, I carefully tucked the pan of meat into the outskirts of the flame. I shuffled the pieces around with a stick until they were evenly browned. I removed the pan from the fire and sat it on a stump. Iggy trotted over, and her and I shared the meat for lunch. It was easy to tell the two meats apart: the rabbit tasted more like chicken, while the beaver resembled pork. After our feast, I began work on slicing the raw meat into thin strips, preparing them for preservation. Once I completed this task, I began work on assembling the spit to hand the meat over the fire for smoking. I had two sticks which Y-ed at the top which I drove into the ground on either side of the fire, opposite from each other. I then placed another stick horizontally across the Ys of the vertical sticks stuck in the ground. By this time, the fire had died enough that it was creating an abundant amount of smoke. I hung the meat strips on the spit as if it were a clothesline. There was nothing more left for me to do, except prod the fire occasionally to keep it smoldering.
Iggy and I took a break from the day’s exploits and walked to the edge of the creek. I sat on the bank as Iggy waded into the stream, lapping up water as she went. I brought with me a spare strip of raw meat from my harvest. Tearing a small piece off, I looked under the bank on the opposite shore where the water had carved the earth away underneath the surface. Soon I saw a little circular shape swim out from underneath this water cave and towards my reflection. This was Turner, my neighbor, the box turtle. We were rather fond of each other, even if our anatomical differences created some barriers for us. It was especially nice to make a friend out here.
After an hour or so of resting on the bank with Iggy, Turner, and myself, I decided it was a good point to check on the meat. By this time, the better part of the day had already gone by. I loaded the fire up so it would last throughout the night. It takes about a full 24 hours to cure meat properly. Unfortunately, this meant that it would have to burn through the night, and the scent of meat attracted predators far and wide. Iggy usually does a good job at warding off these unwanted visitors. For the occasional animal that refuses to back off, I did bring a hunting rifle with me on this excursion, and about 200 rounds. I always had it with me, always loaded.
As the sky drew darker, Iggy and I withdrew to our tent. I wrapped myself up in my sleeping bag and Iggy curled up on the ground beside me. I fell asleep with my rifle lying next to me in bed. I slept soundly until I was suddenly awakened by Iggy growling. I quickly shook the tired fogginess off and hushed Iggy. I could hear a creature attempting to gather the curing meat off of the spit, but something else was unusual. With every step this animal took, the ground vibrated. The stranger part, its walking pattern sounded as if it had two legs instead of four. My mind instantly inferred that this was a human, but a human so large that their steps shook the ground? Maybe it was bear on its hind legs, but its steps didn’t sound clumsy. I looked at Iggy, and she was shaking. Her reaction told me that this was force not to be reckoned with. I was as still as I possibly could, even trying to slow my breathing. Then I was hit with a horrendous smell of rotten trash. I recognized this smell; it was the same one I encountered in the meadow the day before. After what seemed like hours, the footsteps finally trailed off away from my camp. I grabbed my pocket watch again and checked the time: 4:09 a.m.
I was unable to fall asleep again, neither was Iggy. I waited until the sunlight started poking through the trees to move again. The birds began their morning hymn, so I felt it was safe to leave my tent. I unzipped the tent and was instantly astonished at what I saw. My flimsy spit was untouched. However, the strips of meat were completely gone. Not a single trace of them left. Bears and other predators wreak havoc on the entire ensemble when they steal meat. The creature was intelligent. Normally, I would have been pissed at the thief, but my instincts were telling me I was about to be messing with something that I shouldn’t be messing with.
I decided not to go hunting that day or leave my camp for that matter. Iggy and I did go and check the snares since they were near. As I was following the creek downstream, Iggy picked up a sent and pursued it with her nose pressed to the ground. She took a turn towards the edge of the stream. There, a massive human-like footprint was smashed into the mud. Iggy stopped in her tracks and looked around. I froze, only moving my head to slowly scan my surroundings. The only movement I seen was some small birds flying from tree to tree. I tried not to let this affect me; you cannot be weak in an environment like this, neither physically nor mentally. I continued my route, finding only a small squirrel in one of my snares. “Something is better than nothing” I reminded myself, as I brought it back to camp and performed my meat preparation routine. This time, there wasn’t enough meat to preserve anything. I disassembled the spit and built the fire up to a sizeable flame. Again, I shared my meal with Iggy.
The beast that visited my camp early this morning left the animal hides untouched. I gathered them and tucked them into my tent to ensure there was nothing left here to tempt it to return. The rest of the afternoon I spent gathering the last of this season’s blackberry harvest. As the sun began to set, I noticed some movement off in my peripheral vision. I brushed it off as just a shadow, but when I saw movement again, I directed my focus in its direction. There, about 60 yards to my west was a black figure, revealing itself from behind a giant oak tree. For a while we just stared at each other, taking our features in. The thing was at least seven feet tall. And its shoulders were abnormally broad. Its muscles were defined, and massive, but it was almost completely covered in long, dark, shaggy hair. And its head – its head was if you threw a hunk of clay onto a pottery table. There was no neck, just an enormous conical head shoved onto its wide shoulders.
Finally, I began backing away, never taking my eyes off of it. It never moved. Finally, I turned and ran the short distance back to camp. Iggy was still basking in the sun. I hurried and constructed a massive fire, in hopes that it would deter the intruder. Then I whistled for Iggy and hunkered down in our tent for the night.
I couldn’t fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I was met with the picture of the monster. I figured it was better that I didn’t sleep anyways, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard if it returned. I must have fallen asleep at some point though, as I was awoken by branches breaking, and Iggy shivering at my side.
What I thought was halfway through my experiment, was in actuality, just the beginning.
* * *
I instantly knew that the beast had returned to my campsite. Unsure of what to do, I reached for my rifle slowly, but silently. After my first encounter with the monster, I did not believe my rifle would be able to do much damage, but it is human instinct to defend yourself. I waited in silence as a listened to the slow drumming of footsteps. Each step sounded like a long slow bass drum, rhythmically stomping out a beat.
boom…
boom…
boom…
The thunderous steps gradually grew louder as the beast neared my tent. The glow of the fire cast a shadow of the creature onto the side of my tent, creating a perfect outline. I stared in amazement at the silhouette – the broad shoulders, stumpy head towering over my tent. A hand emerged from the dark shadow of the beast’s body, slowly edging towards my tent. It placed a hand gently on the side of my tent, as if analyzing the texture of the nylon. The hand pulsated in and out and the creature pushed against the fabric. It was a large hand, larger than any human hand I had ever seen. Yet, it resembled the characteristics of a human hand; five digits, complete with a flexible thumb. Although much larger, it was proportioned the same as a human’s. The hand then stopped moving. In that moment I was compelled to touch it; my fear was overcome by curiosity. I laid the rifle beside me and stretched my arm out to meet the black outline of the creature’s hand. I touched it softly, and the beast jumped a little, as if startled. It withdrew its hand quickly, and I did the same. However, it reached its hand back out and placed it on the side of my tent again. I followed its lead and placed my hand against the outline; the only thing separating us was the thin nylon of the tent. I held it there, admiring its size, feeling its warmth, simply grasping the concept that I was encountering a living, breathing creature. Suddenly, the beast didn’t seem so monstrous anymore. I began to feel a little acclimated towards it. After a few minutes of pressing our hands together, I withdrew my hand back to my side, and the creature did the same. It stood there for a few moments before slowly retreating back to the depths of the forest.
I was so infatuated with this encounter that the world seemed to stand still. Suddenly, I remembered Iggy, and a hot flash of adrenaline ran through my body. I looked to the floor where she slept; she was still there, hunkered and tucked into a ball, still quivering with fear. I pulled myself out of my sleeping bad and crouched down on the floor beside her. I slowly stroked my hand across her head and back, attempting to calm her. Finally, I crawled back onto my cot, calling Iggy to join me. She uncurled herself from her tightly wrapped position and jumped onto the cot. I fell asleep with her beside me; feet tucked under her body, head resting on my stomach.
I was able to sleep through the entire night without any additional interruption. It was a pleasant morning. I unzipped the tent and was met with crisp fresh air. The sun was just peaking over the hills, the rays piercing through the trees and warming the earth. Steam was hovering over the creek and the temperature of the air began to rise. Iggy was reluctant to follow me out of the tent. She poked her head through the opening and tilted her nose to the sky while sniffing the air. Once she determined it was safe, she trotted out of the tent and around the perimeter of the campsite. The fire was now dwindled to burning ashes, so I began work on gathering some kindling to start it back up again. As the fire began to catch flame, I walked to the creek to collect a pot of water for boiling. I sat the pot of water over the flame and embarked on my trap-checking route.
Iggy followed me as I made my rounds. My traps were all still set, meaning there would be no harvest this morning. I felt that it was a good time to move my traps around; I wanted to avoid completely depleting my resources. I moved three of my snares to a grove of oak trees near my campsite. There’s always an abundance of squirrels around this area due to the acorns the oak trees produced. This time of the fall is when the acorns are at their peak. My fourth trap I decided to keep near the water. However, I walked far down the creek to place this last one. I decided to set the snare where the stream converged into the pool that bordered the meadow. There were always small animal tracks in the mud of the creek bank. Satisfied with my work, I walked back to the camp with Iggy.
When I arrived at the camp, there was a large trout laying on my skinning log. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around but saw nothing. I approached the fish cautiously: it appeared fresh. I scanned the area again and glanced at Iggy. She was lying on the ground sunbathing. An animal can give you a lot of clues about the world. In this case, her demeanor was telling me that everything was alright. My heightened sense of fear dwindled as I came to the realization that this must be an offering from the creature, and I took it as a sign of peace. With newfound confidence, I grabbed my knife and began to filet the fish. After I was done, I returned to the fire, removed the pot of water, and placed the butchered fish on the pan to cook. I tended to the meat until it was thoroughly prepared. Thankfully, the trout was large enough that Iggy and I could share it. It was the best meal I have had since beginning this experiment: fresh pan-seared trout with sterilized creek water.
I took advantage of the energy the trout meal gave me by collecting a stockpile of firewood. I utilize the entire part of the later afternoon to get as much as I could. Finally, when the sun began to set, I decided to check my traps one last time. Still no luck, but the traps were just fresh, and I knew it would take a few days for the animals to become accustomed to them.
Before bed I built up the fire to last through the night. I sat by the fire for a while with Iggy resting at my side. The darkness brought on an unusual feeling now. My mind raced with questions and scenarios:
Why hadn’t I seen the creature today?
Is it going to return tonight?
Do I want to see it again?
Was that really a peace offering?
Is it expecting something in return?
My frenzied inquiry was abruptly interrupted by an instant “snap!” Iggy scrambled to her feet and stared in the direction of the sound. My head snapped towards the noise as well. I felt a wave of comfort flow through my body as I realized a squirrel had fallen victim to my trap; the noise being the snap of the snare. I walked over to the trap and pried the squirrel out of it and took it to my log for skinning. Iggy lurked by my side as I processed the meat and assembled my contraption for smoking it over the fire.
I went to bed that night with conflicting desire regarding the creature. It no longer seemed monstrous to me, but I was still apprehensive at the thought of encountering it again. After all, it was still a wild animal, and an enormous one at that. Who knows what it is truly capable of? Iggy fell asleep on my cot again, but I lied awake in anticipation. I came to terms with my emotions: no matter how I felt towards this thing I would have to deal with it. Since I had a very personal encounter with it, I felt the description of creature no longer suited it. Before falling asleep, I decided to give it a name: Quin.
* * *