Fifty Falling Stars

by Wesley Higginbotham

  The teenagers returned with the wood for the fire and placed it in the center of camp. Kirk watched as Scott took the older, semi-rotten pieces and used them for a brace. He laid some of the medium pieces against the brace and placed a handful of semi-dry leaves under the whole thing. Scott pulled out a lighter and lit the leaves. Kirk watched. Maybe I shouldn’t judge them too harshly. They were city folks after all. They had probably never had to start a fire from scratch before a couple of weeks ago. He thought. He doubted they had ever gotten one going like this, except for maybe pure luck.

  Kirk walked over and squatted next to Scott. “That’s going to be some fire when it gets going.”

  “Nah, it’ll only be a couple feet high.” Kirk saw Jimmy approach so he could hear the conversation.

  “Still going to put off a lot of light into the night.” Kirk said. “You know how far we’ve traveled and which direction. Didn’t the guy I questioned say that there were more of them, living out east of town?” Scott didn’t reply. He just looked at Kirk. “My point is that we know there are bad guys around these parts. We wouldn’t want to do anything that might bring unwanted attention. With the power down, any light source is bound to draw attention. I know the fire won’t be that big, but the land around here is pretty flat. At the right angle, someone passing along that road we crossed a mile back might be able to see the light coming off of the fire.”

  Scott frowned. “What do you suggest, Kirk?”

  “Why don’t we have a smaller fire in a Dakota hole?”

  “What’s a Dakota hole?” Jimmy asked.

  “It’s a fire in a hole.” Kirk answered. “You dig two holes. You build the fire in one. In the other you make a small tunnel from the bottom to the bottom of the other. That way the fire can suck air from the second hole. It burns pretty well; plus, it’s more hidden since the fire is in a hole.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.” Scott said.

  “Well, if Jimmy will help me gather some better wood, I’ll show you.”

  “What’s wrong with the wood we already have?” Scott asked.

  Kirk reached down and picked up a piece of wood from Scott’s stack. He pressed his thumbnail into the wood and flaked off part of it to show Scott and Jimmy how weak the wood was. “This shit you got is either beginning to rot or wet. They’re going to be very hard to light and smoke like hell when you do get it to burn.”

  Kirk got up and walked over to his pack. He turned it on its side and untied a small hatchet tied to it. “Come on, Jimmy, let’s go get some dry wood.”

  “But we looked around, Mr… I’m sorry, I don’t even know your last name.” Jimmy said.

  “It’s Chandler. Kirk Chandler.”

  “We looked, Mr. Chandler. This was the best wood we found.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Scott stood as Kirk and Jimmy walked away from the camp. Kirk turned back. “Scott, would you be so kind as to find us about five double handfuls of the driest leaves you can find?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

  Kirk led Jimmy over to a group of trees several yards away from the camp. “Ah, here we are.” He said as they approached an old hickory tree.

  “But we already looked around here, Mr. Chandler.”

  “Look again, boy. This time, don’t just look on the ground.”

  Jimmy looked around, but he didn’t see. Kirk let him search a little before he pointed the hatchet to a dead limb bout seven feet off the ground. The limb was about four inches in diameter where it left the trunk. It still held on to several branches when it tapered off some eight feet away. “What about this dead limb?”

  “I guess it could work.” Jimmy said. “How are we going to get it down?”

  Kirk walked up to it and slammed the hatchet into the base of the limb twice, cutting a nice wedge. He walked around and struck the other side in the same way. He walked out to the end of the limb and grabbed some of the lower branches. The limb snapped off of the truck as Kirk pulled it back toward where Jimmy stood. “Just like that.”

  “Jimmy, do you know why we chose this limb?”

  “No, sir.”

  “In a situation like this, when you need firewood quickly and need to burn it soon, always look for standing dead trees or dead limbs like this one. Since they are standing up off the ground, they don’t tend to get too wet or hold water very long. That makes them easier to light, and they’ll burn cleaner. You understand?” Jimmy nodded. “Now, if you’re going to stay in a place for a couple of days, you can get wood like you got earlier and prop it up next to the fire. As long as it doesn’t rain, you can dry it out with the fire and burn it the next day.

  “Now, can you tell me what makes this tree good to burn?”

  Jimmy looked up at the tree and guessed. “Is it because it is a deciduous tree?”

  Kirk smiled. He hadn’t expected such a specific answer. “That’s kinda right. You see deciduous trees are what most people call hardwoods, because the wood is much harder than softwood trees. Do you know what softwood trees are?”

  Jimmy guessed again. “Conifers?”

  “That’s right. You see, hardwoods like this hickory here are a pain in the ass to work with. We’re going to have to put forth a good effort to break this limb down; but it’ll burn for much longer than the softwood. You see pine trees, like that one over there. Their wood is much easier to work with, but it’ll burn up much faster, so you’ll need more of it. You got it.”

  “I think so, Mr. Chandler.”

  “Hey, you see that dead limb lying on the ground over there?” Kirk asked. Jimmy nodded. “Run over there and bring it back.”

  Jimmy returned with the six foot piece of damp wood. “I thought you said that this kind of wood wouldn’t burn well.”

  “I did, but we’re not going to burn this one.” Kirk looked up and pointed to a large clump of dead twigs and dried leaves clumped together toward the top of the tree. “Do you know what that is, Jimmy?”

  “It looks like a real big bird nest.”

  “Close, son.” Kirk noted how the boy bristled at being called son. He’d have to watch what he said until he pieced together more about this little group. Perhaps he had held himself too distant from these folks on their hike.

  “That’s a squirrel nest. You see, squirrels breed a couple of times a year. One of them is around this time of year. That means that hopefully, some of the squirrels should be working on these nests and running around looking for food.” Kirk took the damp branch and leaned it against the tree. “You see, there is one fact almost every animal has in common, we’re generally lazy. The idea here is that the squirrel will find it easier to climb up the angled branch rather than climb straight up the tree. That’s where we’re going to catch him.”

  “What do you mean catch him? You can’t catch a squirrel. What are we going to do with a squirrel?” Jimmy asked. Kirk smiled. He had the boy’s undivided attention.

  “We’re going to eat it, and we’ll catch it with this.” Kirk said as he pulled out a small roll of thin wire. Kirk pulled out his knife and cut a length of wire about a foot long. “Come watch this.” Kirk said as he began working the wire. He folded about an inch of wire back on itself and twisted it around several times, forming an eye. He left about a quarter of an inch of the piece he had twisted free. He took the free end of the wire and ran it through the eye. Once he had a circle about two inches in diameter, be bent the wire so that the circle would remain. He turned the quarter-inch piece and made sure that it stuck in toward the center of the circle. He wrapped the remaining wire around the branch and fastened it there.

  “You see, Jimmy, we want to have the loop big enough for the squirrel to get his head through as he climbs up the limb. We want this piece of wire sticking into the circle so that it’ll catch on the hair and pull it tight. The squirrel will run through, the circle will tighten, the squirrel will fight and fall off, and he’ll be hanging here for us to come get. Sound good to you?”r />
  “I guess, Mr. Chandler. Do you really think we can catch a squirrel that way?”

  “Sure. It works with rabbits too, if you can find a good trail. The bad part about it is that you generally have to set out a few snares and it can sometimes take days before you catch anything. I see a couple more spots where we might want to set some out. These little guys should be up and running around before we get up tomorrow. If we’re lucky, we may be able to come by and have breakfast waiting for us.

  “You’ve never been out in the woods much, have you, Jimmy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Would you like me to teach you what little I know about how to hunt, and trap, and survive out here in the woods?”

  “Does all of this stuff really work?” Jimmy asked.

  “It’s been keeping me going for the last few weeks and it’s what the settlers did when they moved west back in the old days.”

  “Then, yeah. I think that might be some pretty good stuff to know now.”

  “All right, let’s get started.”

  Kirk and Jimmy set up four more snares on the trees surrounding the big hickory. By the time they completed the last one, Kirk had Jimmy doing it by himself. “Let’s head back to the camp and show your grandpa how to build a proper fire.” Jimmy stopped examining his snare and nodded.

  Jimmy outpaced Kirk and was telling Scott about setting the snares when Kirk came up to the camp, dragging their firewood. “All right, do you know how to split wood, Jimmy?” The young man shook his head. “Scott?”

  “Not with a little hatchet like that.”

  “Fair enough. Would you mind just cutting the limb into foot-long sections while I show Jimmy here how to dig a Dakota hole? Also, where’s the cooking pot you said you have?”

  “Clay took it to get water.” Scott said as Kirk handed him the hatchet.

  Kirk walked over to his pack and pulled out a folding entrenching tool. “Ok, so we’re going to dig two holes, one for the fire to go in and the other to let the fire have air. We really need to know how big the pot is so that… speak of the devil.” Kirk cut off as Clay and Leesha returned to camp with the large stainless steel pot. “Clay, would you bring that pot over here, please.”

  Clay sat the pot down in front of Kirk. “We’re going to do something a little different here. We really don’t have a way to put the pot over a fire. From the looks of things,” Kirk pointed to the charred bottom and slightly melted plastic handles on the pot, “you guys just shoved the whole thing into the fire.”

  “Like you said, we didn’t have a good way to put it over the fire.” Clay said. “You got a better idea?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to modify the Dakota hole to make a stove.” Kirk said. He began to dig a hole. “If we keep the hole smaller than the bottom of the pot, we should be able to just set the pot on the ground above the fire.” Kirk dug the hole about a foot and a half deep. He moved over about a foot and dug another hole. “This hole will let the air into the fire.” Kirk set aside the entrenching tool and pulled out his combat knife. He stuck the knife in the first hole and burrowed a small hole in the bottom toward the second hole. When the knife couldn’t dig any further, Kirk worked from the second hole. When he finished, he stuck his hand into the bottom of the first hole, lowered his face into the second hole, and blew. “Yep, I can feel the air. This should work. I’m just going to cut out a couple of notches on the side of the fire hole so that it’ll have a way to vent around the pot.”

  Kirk looked up to see that he had a small audience. Leesha and Tara watched from behind Clay. Scott had cut about three lengths of wood but had stopped to watch. Sherry and Lucy sat next to a tree some fifteen feet away. Kirk watched as Lucy shook her head at whatever her mother said to her, her think red locks quivering around her shoulders. Even in her sad face, those green eyes sparkled. He saw that Leesha had seen him looking at the girl. “Scott, can you hand me one of those pieces of wood?” Scott complied and returned to cutting up the rest of the limb, a sour look on his face.

  Kirk looked up at Jimmy and Clay. “Usually the driest and best wood for starting a fire is in the center of the log. We need to split these open to get to it.” He turned the length of wood on its end and laid the knife across the end of the wood. He reached back toward where Scott was working and picked up another piece of wood. He struck the top of the knife with the second piece of wood as if it was a hammer. The wood split down its center with three more strokes. Kirk continued the process twice more, quartering the piece of wood.

  He stood up and grabbed another piece of wood from Scott’s growing pile. He handed his knife and the new piece of wood to Jimmy. “You want a turn?”

  Jimmy worked a little slower but got the hang of it as Scott finished chopping the limb. Kirk pulled out the wire he had used for making the snares. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a multi-tool from his pocket and cut a length of about three feet. “Man, you got all sorts of toys, don’t you.” Clay stated. “What you doing now?”

  “Well,” Kirk said as he doubled the wire back on itself and began twisting a loop around one of the semi-melted handles of the pot, “we still need a way to handle a hot pot. I don’t really want to burn the shit out of myself, so, I’m making us a way to grab it off of the fire.

  “Speaking of which, what are you folks eating tonight?”

  Clay, Tara, and Scott looked at each other. Scott sighed and said, “We have a couple of packaged ready-meals.”

  “How many you got left?” Kirk asked. Scott didn’t want to answer. Kirk guessed that they either thought he might take their food or were maybe embarrassed about how little they had. “Listen guys, I don’t want or need any of your food. I was just wondering how you guys were fixed for supplies.”

  “We have two each left.”

  “Wow, with all of the hiking and excitement, you guys must be starving.” Kirk stood and walked over to his pack. He rummaged around towards the bottom and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle and a smaller handkerchief. He opened the bundle, pulled out several slices of dried meat, and tossed them into the pot. “Dinner’s on me tonight.”

  “What is that?” Leesha asked.

  “It’s dried rabbit meat. I’ve been hunting as I’ve travelled along. I got four of these guys a few days ago, so I ate one, cut up the others, and dried them just for such an occasion.”

  “I thought raw meat went bad pretty quick.” Tara said.

  “Normally it does. I cut this into thin slices and smoked them over a fire to dry them. It’ll last a couple of weeks that way, as long as you can keep it dry.” Kirk looked back toward the edge of the trees. “Hold on a second.” He said as he walked way. A minute later he came back with a hat full of green leaves and a handful of pine nettles. “I figured we needed something else to go with the rabbit.” Tara, Leesha, and the rest looked confused. “Clover.” Kirk explained. “It’s not the most flavorful, but it’s supposed to have a good bit of protein in it. We’ll just boil it along with the meat.”

  “How do you know all this shit?” Scott asked. Kirk smiled and retrieved a small book sealed in a plastic bag from his pack. He tossed it to Scott. Scott looked at the book, Peterson Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants.

  “That little fella has been worth its weight in gold since everything fell apart.” Kirk said as he took his knife back from Jimmy. He took the smaller branches of the limb and cut them down into kindling. He broke off a couple smaller pieces of wood and laid them into the Dakota hole to form a base for his fire and to keep from trying to start the fire on the damp earth. He reached over to the pile of dry leaves that Scott had gathered and took a double handful. “Light me up, Scott.” He said. Scott retrieved his lighter and lit the small bundle in Kirk’s hands. Kirk blew on the small flame until it had spread through the bundle in his hands. Once it was too hot to hold, he dropped the lit wad into the hole.

  “I saw you trying to start the fire earlier.” Kirk said to Scott. “You tried to light the big stuff directly
. Man, wood’s got to be pretty dry for that to work. It’s much easier if you start small, with the leaves and stuff here, then add the kindling, and then the bigger stuff.”

  “I never was any good at this stuff.” Scott said. “Jan would have been better at this.”

  “Who’s Jan?” Kirk asked. No one answered. Jimmy choked up and Lucy turned away, trying not to let the others see her tears. Kirk guessed that Jan must have been a missing part of the group. Everyone was present: mom, son, daughter, grandpa, grandma. Everyone except dad. Kirk didn’t press the question. He built up the fire, blowing in the other hole to stoke the flames. Once it burned well, he placed the pot over the hole.

  Kirk sat down, removed a small patch of handkerchief cloth from his pocket, and spread it out in his lap. He reached over and grabbed some of the greenest, youngest pine nettles he had gathered and cut them into tiny pieces that fell onto the cloth. When he had a nice pile in the cloth, he pulled out a small section of wire, attached it to the cloth, and tied up the edges of the cloth into a little bag. He tossed the bag into the pot.

  “Really?” Jimmy asked.

  “What’s that for?” Clay inquired.

  “It’ll make pine nettle tea as it boils with the stew.” Kirk said. He could see everyone now thought he was crazy. “It’s not the best tasting, but it has plenty of vitamin C in it. You know, it takes more than meat to stay alive. Scurvy can be a real bitch.”

  “Scurvy? Dr. Davidson mentioned that, but we never really got into it.” Lucy said. This was the first time she had spoken to Kirk. He looked up at her, transfixed by her. He didn’t ask about Dr. Davidson, there would be plenty of time for him to get to know these people and their stories.