American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 158 Broad-leaf cattail!

At their tips, most still retain some brown, club-shaped inflorescences that have burst open, revealing white downy hairs inside.

A biting wind blows by, occasionally carrying away a small clump of white, dandelion-like seeds that dance in the air.

Lin Yu'an's face revealed an expression of uncontrollable joy, as if he had discovered a gold mine.

"I'm so lucky! I'm so incredibly lucky!" he said to the camera, unable to hide his excitement.

"Look there! That's a huge patch of broadleaf cattails!"

He walked quickly to the cattail patch, and to make it clear to the audience, he broke off a withered branch with its tip still covered in fluffy white down, and held it up to the camera.

"Many people confuse it with reeds because they both like to grow near water, and in winter, their inflorescences become fuzzy, ready to spread seeds."

"But in the wild, misidentifying plants can sometimes be fatal. Even when they've all exploded, the differences are still very obvious."

He pointed to the fuzzy, yet still cylindrical, cattail inflorescence in his hand.

He twirled a tuft of fine white down between his fingers: "Even after the cattail inflorescence bursts open, its core remains an extremely compact, velvety cylinder."

“All the downy hairs burst out from this hard ‘core,’ like a giant fuzzy cotton swab, with a centripetal structure.”

"The structure of the reed inflorescence is completely different. It does not have a central cylinder, but is composed of countless tiny, branching stalks."

"It's like a miniature Christmas tree covered in white flowers. Its structure is radiating, like a giant, fluffy broom."

"This difference can be understood as one being a solid 'wolf's tooth club' that has bristled, and the other being a 'feather duster' that has turned white."

"Although they look very similar, their values ​​are completely different."

"In North America, cattails are known as the 'wilderness supermarket' because every part of them is valuable."

"Spring shoots can be eaten as vegetables, summer pollen can be used as flour, and autumn roots and stems are a source of starch!"

"What we need most right now is its rhizome buried under the ice and permafrost! With it, we will have the most reliable carbohydrates!"

Then, using his Damascus hunting knife, which old George had personally crafted, he shaved one end of the wooden pole into a flat and sturdy digging rod.

He carefully stepped onto the thin layer of ice, which creaked in protest, but thankfully he was able to stand firmly.

“It’s late autumn now,” he explained to the camera as he moved across the ice.

"Although the above-ground parts of the cattail have withered, it has stored the energy accumulated through photosynthesis throughout the year in the form of starch in its underground rhizomes."

"Those dug up at this time are not only the largest, but also have the highest nutritional value."

He walked into the patch of withered cattails, selected the thickest withered stalk, and instead of digging it up directly, he first raised his Granforth Forest Axe.

But instead of using the sharp axe blade, he used the thick back of the axe, like a warhammer, to smash the ice around the roots of the cattail!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

With a series of crisp ice-breaking sounds, he forcefully smashed open a circular ice hole about half a meter in diameter, revealing the cold, not yet fully frozen black silt underneath.

After clearing away the ice shards, he carefully stepped into the muddy tidal flats, which were just above his ankles, wearing high-top waterproof heavy-duty hiking boots.

Then, use a wooden stick to dig deep into the silt below the ice break and press down hard!
He completely turned over a large chunk of black silt mixed with tangled roots.

Wearing waterproof gloves, he ignored the icy mud and water and carefully felt around.

Soon, he pulled out a spindle-shaped rootstock that was thicker than a finger, covered with brown fibrous roots, and had a rough outer skin.

He used his Damascus hunting knife to scrape off a small piece of the outer skin, revealing the white, firm, starchy flesh inside.

"Look at this, a perfect, snow-white ingredient!"

He threw the heavy rhizome, which weighed at least two or three pounds, onto a dry spot on the shore and then continued his digging work.

Over the next half hour, he dug up more than a dozen equally thick rhizomes in the same way, and then hurriedly returned to the shore.

It wasn't that he didn't want to dig more, but even though he had boots, his feet were freezing cold, and he needed to get off the cold, wet mud as quickly as possible.

"These are enough for me to eat for several days. I just need to put them in the embers of the fire and roast them slowly. They will taste exactly like the best roasted potatoes."

"I can even crush them, wash out the starch, and make the most primitive kind of flatbread. This cattail will be my most stable and reliable source of staple food for the next few months!"

After harvesting his staple food, Lin Yu'an consciously searched for other plant resources on his way back to the camp.

On a sunny, rocky hillside, he discovered a patch of low-lying plants growing close to the ground, like a red carpet.

It was covered with round fruits that were as clear and translucent as rubies and had been touched by frost.

“Great! Rock cranberry!” He immediately recognized this berry, which is most common in the Arctic Circle.

He picked one and put it in his mouth. A burst of tangy and sweet flavor instantly exploded on his taste buds, dispelling all his fatigue.

"After being frosted, its taste changes from sour to sweet and sour. It is rich in vitamin C and antioxidants. With them, I don't have to worry about getting scurvy at all."

He quickly picked a full bag of fruit using a storage bag.

As he was picking cranberries, his gaze was drawn to a less noticeable clump of evergreen shrubs about half a meter tall.

The leaves of this shrub are oblong, with the edges curling backward. The front is dark green, while the back is covered with a thick, distinctive rust-colored down.

Lin Yu'an's face showed an expression of even greater surprise, or even shock, than when he discovered the cattail.

He strode forward, carefully plucked a few leaves, and smelled them. A faint, unique aroma, reminiscent of a mixture of pine resin and rosemary, wafted out.

"No way..." he muttered to himself, then turned the leaf over and carefully examined the distinctive rust-colored fuzz on the back. "Labrador tea..." he finally confirmed the plant's identity.

He excitedly introduced the camera, saying, "Everyone, today is absolutely a lucky day for me!"

"This is Labrador tea, a plant that is extremely common in the northern coniferous forests and tundra of North America, but for survivors, it is a 'miracle drug'!"

He held a leaf up to the camera: "Its leaves are rich in vitamins and volatile essential oils."

"Brewing tea with its leaves not only provides a large amount of vitamins but also helps prevent scurvy."

"More importantly, it contains some natural alkaloids, which have the effects of refreshing, dispelling cold, and even mild pain relief."

"For the Inuit and the indigenous people of the north, this is their coffee and aspirin!"

"Having it means that for the next fifty days, I can have a cup of hot tea every day that can replenish vitamins and dispel fatigue and cold."

He carefully picked enough Labrador tea leaves and put them in his pocket.

Finally, he came to a young black spruce tree and picked a few clusters of dark green needles.

He rubbed the pine needles in his palm, and a refreshing pine scent wafted out.

"This is my last resort: spruce needle tea. Although it doesn't taste as good as Labrador tea, its vitamin C content is just as amazing. More choices mean more protection."

When he finished his exploration and returned to his simple shelter, laden with his spoils, it was already completely dark.

The fire still flickered merrily, warming the area inside and in front of the shelter.

Lin Yu'an's face was filled with the joy of a bountiful harvest; his dinner was a feast bestowed upon him by this land.

He first dealt with the most important harvest of the day, the cattail rhizomes. Instead of throwing them directly into the fire, he first used a knife to scrape off the rough outer skin of the rhizomes.

Then, he found several large patches of thick, moist moss and wrapped the two cleaned cattail roots tightly with it.

"This is one of the oldest cooking methods: moss-wrapped baking."

"Moist moss produces a lot of water vapor, which prevents food from being directly baked and has a 'steaming' effect, preserving the food's internal moisture and flavor to the greatest extent."

He carefully buried the two "moss wrappers" in the relatively cool embers at the edge of the long fire, and completely covered them with hot ash.

While waiting for the main dish to bake, he began preparing his seafood soup.

He cleaned the mussels and put them into the seagull pot to boil until they all opened. Then he took out the delicious mussel meat one by one and set it aside.

Then, add clean lake water, chopped seaweed, and a handful of crushed cranberries to the rich "original broth" at the bottom of the pot.

He explained to the camera, "The taste of cranberries is very sour. Adding a few can add a refreshing fruity acidity to this delicious soup, which is very appetizing."

When the broth boiled again and became slightly viscous due to the gelatinous substance of the seaweed, he poured the mussel meat he had taken out earlier back into the pot, heated it slightly, and then immediately removed it from the heat.

Half an hour later, he pulled the two charred moss-covered bundles out of the embers.

Peel back the dried moss shell, and a sweet aroma mixed with soil and chestnuts wafts out!

The cattail roots inside were roasted until the outer skin was slightly charred, while the inside was fully cooked, turning golden and soft.

He sat in front of the fire, enjoying a bite of soft, sweet roasted cattail root and a sip of tangy, refreshing mussel soup.

In this cold Labrador wilderness, this dinner, in this desolate wilderness, is undoubtedly a royal treat!

After the meal, he carefully cleaned the metal pot and boiled another pot of lake water.

Then, he produced his biggest discovery of the day—Labrador tea leaves.

He faced the camera, showing off the unique leaves with rust-colored fuzz on their backs, and gave a presentation on science.

"Many people may ask whether these fresh leaves need to be 'killed' or 'roasted' like Chinese tea leaves?"

The answer is, absolutely not!

"This is a very crucial point: Labrador tea leaves contain a terpene compound called 'Ledol,' which is a trace amount of a toxic substance."

"Its content is very low in both fresh and dried leaves. Drinking a small amount of it by steeping it in water can have a refreshing and warming effect, and it is safe."

"If it is stir-fried or boiled vigorously for a long time, a large amount of this compound will be released, which may cause dizziness, nausea or even more serious consequences after drinking it."

"Therefore, the only correct way to process Labrador tea is to use low temperature and short brewing time."

He tossed a few freshly picked Labrador tea leaves into the slightly cooled hot water.

Without covering the pot, I simply let the tea leaves steep quietly in the hot water for about five minutes.

Soon, the clear lake water was transformed into a cup of hot tea with a golden hue and a unique blend of aromas.

The scent had a crispness of pine resin, a fresh aroma of herbs, and a hint of citrus fragrance.

He took a small sip.

A warm liquid, slightly bitter with a wonderfully sweet aftertaste, slid down my throat, instantly dispelling much of my fatigue!

Looking at the flickering flames ahead, eating carbohydrates, protein, and vitamins from this land, and drinking hot tea, he felt extremely satisfied!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

(I've tried it, it wasn't good. Not even as good as the monthly pass.)
(End of this chapter)