Darwin's World: An Epic of Survival (The Darwin's World Series Book 1)

by Jack L Knapp

  Trees built up a layer of dead leaves underneath, nourishment to be recycled in the spring. The piles grew higher where the winds swirled around the trunks. A few pines and cedars retained their color, green islands in a world turned mostly brown.

  “Ok, folks. It’s here. We do as much as we can while we can. The winter got here earlier than I hoped and it will probably stay late. There are likely glaciers north of here. It took centuries before the main icecap melted and the last low-altitude glaciers disappeared. Our weather will almost certainly be affected by all that ice and cold up north.

  “The usual weather pattern in my timeline ran northwest to southeast. Storms built up off the west coast of Alaska, then traveled south before turning eastward. Here, the weather pattern will likely avoid the glaciers, because the cold air above the ice-field will sink. That sinking air builds a kind of high-pressure area, a kind of polar high, but now displaced to somewhere around the 40th parallel. That’s where I think we are, south of there, about where Oklahoma is located in the time I came from.

  “High pressure circulates clockwise in the northern hemisphere and creates relatively stable weather, so whatever pattern comes in is likely to stay around a while. It’s the low-pressure zones that create storms, especially when they run into a cold front. It’s going to be cold here, probably rainy for a while, then snowy. Moisture will flow up from the Gulf and drop around here as rain or snow. Lilia, do you have any experience of weather near here?”

  “Matt, I can’t tell. Some years were really cold, and sometimes we got a lot of snow even when it wasn’t as cold. A couple of times we got cold and snow both. We never got used to it. My husband always stocked as much food and firewood as possible and that lasted until spring, though sometimes we had to ration supplies in late winter.”

  “I understand his thinking. That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard to stockpile things. If we aren’t ready, maybe even if we are, it’s going to be a miserable few months. Do we have enough? I just don’t know.

  “We’ve got more than enough stored to feed us and keep us warm if we were living in the timeline we came from. Here, we don’t know what normal weather is. We may get pretty cold, hungry too, before spring gets here. We can at least gather more wood when the weather permits, the trees aren't going anywhere. It’s food that will be critical. We depend on animals for meat, and they may hibernate where we can't find them or migrate south to where they can graze.

  “At least, if the big animals move the predators will follow them. It’s a silver lining to our dark cloud.”

  #

  Hunting became more difficult. Animals sought warmer places to sleep and often these were on hilltops. The cold air from even slight elevations flowed downhill and pooled in the lowlands along the streams. Hunting rapidly became an exercise in climbing.

  When we did manage to bag something, the coats were much thicker than we’d seen before. Long guard hairs covered heavy growths of insulating fur next to the skin. Animals lacking that thick undercoat had already migrated south.

  #

  Fires in the fireplace were larger now for heating the cabin, although we still relied on coals for cooking. We could let the fire die back slightly and rake the coals to where we wanted them, feeding in sticks of wood as necessary. Laz, Lee, and I brought in wood every time we went outside. Not all of it was seasoned enough yet, but I knew a way around that.

  When I brought in firewood, I tried to mix seasoned wood with a few billets that needed more time to dry. The partially-dried wood was stacked near the fireplace, far enough away that there was no danger of catching fire, but close enough that heat would accelerate the drying process, substituting for the lack of drying time. After a day near the fire, the wood burned well.

  We hunted when we could and took several more large animals. Some of the meat went to the miners, the rest came back with the skins and furs to the cabin. We got metal from broken saw-blades and ground black pepper in exchange. The metal made excellent arrow points with a little work.

  I guarded our dried meat supply zealously and rationed wood whenever I could. As a result, we were frequently a little hungry when meals were finished, and often the cabin was colder than ideal for comfort, but it might keep us from starving or freezing before spring arrived so no one complained.

  Whenever the weather cooperated, we brought in new-cut wood and ate fresh meat and vegetables. Snow would put an end to this soon, but I had a plan ready for the first snowfall.

  “Laz, I’d like you and Lee to take a close look at the sled, the one we’ve been using for transporting meat. If the runners are still good, check the lashings. Reinforce them if they need it and replace anything that looks like it might fail.

  “We can use the sled to carry a lot more weight after it snows, so brace the frame with crosspieces. That will make it more rigid. Replace any parts that won’t stand up to heavy use. I probably won’t be hauling big logs on it; the stone boat is still best for heavy loads and it will work even better on snow.

  “It’s cold enough now for meat to keep without being smoked or salt-cured. From now on, we’ll hang the quarters of any large animals from the big oak, the one that’s closest to the door. They’ll be safe from scavengers if they're high enough, and we won’t have problems with insects now that it's cold.

  “While you’re working on the sled, I’ve got something else I need to do. I’ll head down to the stream tomorrow; there’s a large patch of willows there. I’ll cut a supply of branches.”

  They looked doubtful; we rarely used willow as construction material. It’s too flexible, as well as not being very strong. But Lee acknowledged the task I’d given them, so the next day I headed for the stream.

  There was a small herd of whitetail deer drinking from the stream. I carried my bow ready nowadays as a matter of habit; I came to the edge of the slope that led down to the stream, he was there, I drew and loosed without even thinking. I snatched another arrow from my quiver and managed to get a second shot off, this time at one of the does, but I had no idea whether I had scored a hit. The rest of the band scattered.

  I quickly glanced at the buck, but I needed no follow-up shot. The heavy arrow had sunk to the fletching in his side, behind the shoulder, slightly more than halfway down from the withers. Somewhere inside, the arrow had broken. Otherwise, the point would now be sticking out from the side opposite the arrow nock. But the arrow had done its job; I would recover the steel point during butchering and use it again.

  I had also scored a hit on the doe, but I needed to track her down and finish the job. There was a large patch of blood on the ground, not the bright scarlet of a heart or lung shot, but a darker red indicting a hit that sliced a large vein. Oxygen content gives the blood that bright red color, and depleted blood on its way back to the heart doesn’t have the same appearance. Still, the amount of spilled blood meant she probably wouldn’t go far.

  I considered pursuing her immediately, but realized that tracking a wounded doe was a good way to lose a dead buck to scavengers. Regretfully, I abandoned the trail, field-dressed the buck, and went back for help.

  “I’ve got a buck down, but there’s a wounded doe I need to track. If a couple of you can skin and quarter the buck, someone else can come with me and we can bring back the doe after I catch up to her.”

  Millie and Cindy remained at the cabin and continued working while the rest of us hurried down to the stream. The buck was still there where I’d left him; there were fewer large game animals around now, so perhaps most of the predators had also moved on.

  Laz remained to help the women process the buck. They would also carry it back to the cabin and hang the quarters outside in our natural refrigerator.

  Lee and I easily found the blood trail. Two sets of eyes made tracking easier. One could look around for danger or watch for the downed doe, while the other kept the blood trail in sight.

  The blood loss dwindled, and finally we had only tracks to follow. The doe had stopped runn
ing and had even stopped to rest once. She pushed on after that, walking now, so we kept going too.

  We found her a hundred yards or so ahead. It appeared that she’d just lain down and died. We made quick work of field dressing the carcass, removing entrails and then picking up the heart and liver to take with us as we dragged the carcass back. I also found my broken arrow end and put that in my pack.

  I had become quite fond of deer liver roasted over coals! Our evening meal would feature the fresh livers and hearts, plus root vegetables and a few harvested nuts. Everything else would be hung from the oak tree, waiting to be used later. Both animals were fat; we’d need that fat later in the winter.

  #

  Berries and fruits had been harvested during the summer as they ripened. Some were identifiable, some not, and even the identifiable ones were almost always smaller than the ones we’d eaten in our previous timeline. But they were far tastier, and they dried nicely when sliced thin. Lilia had even found wild grapes! She dried those on a rack placed near the outdoor oven, so we had raisins! Good tasting, even if they did have seeds. They were full of vitamins too; we would probably need those before spring. Scurvy and other deficiency diseases could become problems if we didn’t have enough vegetables in our diet.

  Sealed jars now occupied more than half of the lean-to, some on the ground, others on the shelving I’d built. The women had separated the different products by storing fruits against one wall, roots against another, and the back wall had jars of honey. Smoked and salted meats hung near the top where the lean-to’s roof met the cabin wall.

  I continued improving the lean-to as time permitted. The shovel made it easy to pile dirt around the lower edges for insulation. The walls barely sagged under the weight, not enough to be a concern. Snow would provide even more insulation later. Meanwhile, the stacked firewood served as a windbreak.

  I went back to the stream that afternoon and harvested a load of willow branches and an armload of the thin trunks. They were twice the thickness of my thumb, as tall as I could get them, and still flexible, making them ideal for my purpose.

  #

  We stuffed ourselves that evening on fresh meat and the vegetables Millie and Cindy had brought in earlier. We were clearly eating much better now than when I’d first found the cabin!

  I began working with the green willow stems after we finished eating. I wiped them with a damp piece of rawhide, then slowly warmed them in the heat from the fireplace. Already flexible, they were easily formed into elongated ovals, almost a foot wide and about three feet long. I took a temporary half hitch around the trailing ends, then slowly bent the rounded front of the oval upward at a slight angle.

  I repeated the process three more times but only tied and completed forming one of the ovals produced by the bending.

  Taking one of the others, I laced it to the first one I’d made. The oval middle of this one I laid atop the oval of the second, but with the thicker butt end of the willow aligned with the thinner end of the first one I’d formed.

  Later on, I might be able to produce the snowshoe frames from a single thicker piece of wood. For now bending and forming the wood using only muscle power required me to double-layer the willow, laminating it to make the frames stronger.

  I laced small branches of willow across the layered frames, tying them carefully to make a springy platform. I then laced smoked leather strips, netlike, across the rest of the frame and stacked the two in the corner. A leather loop would still be needed, one that I could put the toe of my boot into to attach the snowshoe to my foot.

  I would make snowshoes for each of us. Given time, I’d make a spare set or two. I had plenty of flexible willow to work with now, but I wouldn’t have it later in the winter. The completed snowshoe sets went into the lean-to for storage, hung against the cabin wall. I might have to build another lean-to if we continued to accumulate things that needed to be stored under cover!

  We went back to woodcutting the next day. We now had to haul the wood farther; I chose to do that rather than clear-cut the wood near the cabin. All the dry wood near the cabin had already been gathered.

  We had fur garments ready for use when needed. For now, we simply worked. There’s an old saying that burning wood heats you two or three times, and I certainly believed it! Cutting wood kept us warm, so warm that we frequently worked wearing only the sleeveless vests that all of us now wore under our coats.

  I tried to stay clean, washing the sweat and dirt off in the stream when possible, but it was more of a chore now than in the summer. Get in, shiver and wet down in the cold water, wipe off, get out, and shiver some more while getting dressed.

  Our furs were critical, so they remained in the cabin now rather than in the lean-to where we’d stored them before. The furs would be the difference between being cold or freezing to death. Conceivably, hungry critters might get in the lean-to and chew up the skins; the cabin offered better protection.

  A cold breeze was blowing from the northwest when I went out next morning. I could see angry clouds building in the distance. We cut wood as long as we could, keeping apprehensive eyes on those threatening clouds, and made one last haul back to the cabin.

  “We’ll cut firewood until the storm hits. Laz and Lee, you work the saw, I’ll split and stack. As soon as the weather socks in, we store the tools and stand the stone boat and sled against the front wall near the door. That way, we can find them even if they're covered with snow.”

  A chill rain began falling later, slow and misty at first, heavier as daylight faded. Lee, Laz, and I had been sleeping in the unheated lean-to; now it was time for us to move into the cabin.

  I had waited for Laz or Cindy to suggest it was time for them to go back to the mine, perhaps even back to their tribe. But nothing was said, so I didn’t bring the subject up. Finally, I simply decided that Cindy and Laz were part of our group and included them in our plans. Perhaps we had become a tribe. Lee and Cindy now spent as much time in each other’s company as work allowed. Sandra and I stayed close as did Lilia, even though Lilia and I had not become physically intimate. Laz had Millie, and the two seemed content. It was never discussed, it simply was.

  I thought this was probably the reason why Laz and Cindy never mentioned leaving, the pairing off with Millie and Lee. Perhaps they had found opportunities to be alone while I was away from the cabin working? If they were happy, I was happy.

  I thought Robert might come by, but he never did. Had he gone back to his tribe and the replacement foreman forgotten about us? We hadn’t delivered meat to the mine for more than a month now.

  #

  Rain changed to snow overnight. The rain froze into a sheet of ice atop the ground and the snow lay thick over that.

  We had hide curtains now to keep rain or snow out of the lean-to. The hides overlapped across the opening, one tied to the left side of the entrance, the other to the right. Laces across the overlap secured the hides together. The lean-to was nearly full anyway, so all we really needed was the access provided by the cabin's back door.

  The temperature was well below freezing now; Laz, Lee, and I moved our bedding furs to where we could share the heat from the fireplace.

  We each had large fur pads now, with a bison skin we’d split down the middle as top cover for two of them. Those skins were huge! The curly hair and fur made them very warm. The third pad used doubled deerskins, cured with the hair still attached and stitched together with the hair between. That was the one that Lilia and Sandra now shared with me. Shared warmth could keep us alive, and of course it would make things a lot more interesting during those long winter nights!

  I had been waiting for the first snow. It was time to hunt the grasslands again, but this time, we would have the advantage.

  Chapter 26

  We loaded the sled with tools and supplies in preparation for the hunt; two short swords, the shovel, axe, a small pottery lamp with extra fuel, furs for sleeping and heavy coats, these were our supplies. The lamp burned a mix
of beeswax and animal fat. A spare pot held enough mix to refill the lamp twice more. If that wasn’t enough, we would use animal fat if we killed something. Pure beeswax would have been better, but we used it for so many other things that only a little was available.

  We also packed emergency food on the sled, but hoped not to use it.

  We greased the outside of the heavy boots we now wore with animal fat to make them water-resistant. Even our supply of fat was limited; we needed to include fat in our diet, and that dictated how much we could trim off the meat for other uses. Small animals such as rabbits were a welcome supplement to our meat supply, but there was so little fat on them that we sometimes coated them with bison fat before roasting.

  That was one of our problems, losing fat from roasting meat as it dripped while cooking. I had tried to capture the drippings, but so far nothing had worked. Our best solution for now was to not overcook the meat and collect the drippings in a clay pot while the meat cooled.

  We were packed for the hunt, but there was a gray overcast when I glanced at the sky the next morning.

  “We’re not going anywhere today. See those clouds to the north? Looks like we’ll get more snow before nightfall. We’re safe enough outdoors as long as the weather is clear, but it’s too easy to get lost in a snowstorm. We’ll wait it out.

  “The fur coats are warm. As long as we have food and shelter from the wind, even outdoors, we’ll be OK. It might be more dangerous outside if the weather gets colder, but we can worry about that when it happens. The Inuit and Lapps work outside in Arctic conditions, weather that’s even colder than it gets here. If we’re careful, we can too.

  “Hopefully, the wind will firm up the snow. Snowshoeing is easier when the snow is packed. If it gets really firm, we may not even need the snowshoes, but we’ll keep them on the sled just in case. Anyway, we need to get meat while we can, so we’ll go when the weather clears. Even so, if the animals have migrated I don't think we should follow them.”