American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 175 The Lasso Plays a Crucial Role! (Seeking monthly votes, almost there! Almost 10,000 votes!)
Now that he has the perfect ingredients, he decides to cook them in a special way: a wild saltwater chicken.

He returned to the shelter and generously scooped out three large spoonfuls of coarse sea salt from the birch bark salt box.

"I've just replenished my salt reserves, so we can indulge a little today."

He carefully and evenly applied the precious coarse sea salt to the entire surface of the Thunderbird's skin, and repeatedly rubbed and massaged it with his hands.

After doing all this, he put the whole Thunderbird into an iron pot, then added water, just enough to cover the bird's body.

He placed the iron pot on the fireplace fire and used the fire to bring the water in the pot to a full boil.

Then, he performed a “three-dip, three-lift” procedure, immersing the Thunderbird in boiling water for about ten seconds.

Then lift it completely out of the water, let the skin shrink slightly in the cold air, and then immerse it in boiling water again.

"This step allows the bird to be heated more evenly inside and out, and also makes the final skin texture smoother."

After repeating this process three times, he placed the entire Thunderbird completely, for the last time, into the boiling water.

Finally, remove the iron pot from the fire, cover it with the lid, and use the residual heat to begin a low-temperature soaking process that lasts for up to an hour.

He didn't sit idle while waiting for the Thunderbird to soak.

His gaze fell on the hearts, livers, and gizzards of the Thunderbirds.

"The wait is long, so let's have an appetizer first."

He moved the burning firewood in the fireplace aside, revealing the layer of hot charcoal underneath, which was at a stable temperature and emitted a dark red glow.

He found a thin willow branch, sharpened it, and then skewered the thunderbird's heart, liver, and gizzard onto it like a meat skewer.

Place it directly above the red-hot charcoal and begin to patiently and slowly rotate it to bake.

The fatty livers, upon contact with the heat radiation from the charcoal fire, immediately emitted a pleasant sizzling sound, and a rich aroma of oil began to permeate the shelter!
He sprinkled on a few grains of precious fine salt, and in just a few minutes, this top-quality "grilled thunderbird offal" was ready.

The liver was roasted until the outer skin was slightly charred, but the inside was as delicate and smooth as mousse, while the heart and gizzard became firm and chewy.

He finished the appetizer in one go, which greatly relieved his hunger and filled him with even greater anticipation for the Thunderbird that was slowly cooking in the pot.

An hour later, when he figured it was about time, he slowly opened the pot lid.

A wave of steam, a mixture of the fresh aroma of poultry and the salty fragrance of sea salt, wafted towards us!

He used a sharpened stick to poke into the thickest part of the bird's leg to make sure it was fully cooked.

"Okay, perfect."

He took the whole thunderbird out of the pot and placed it on a clean stone slab to cool it quickly in the cold air.

A few minutes later, when the Thunderbird had cooled down to a temperature that wasn't too hot to touch, he simply used his hands to tear off a large, plump bird leg.

He couldn't wait and took a big bite.

In that instant, an indescribable deliciousness exploded in his mouth!
First, there's the bird skin, which shrinks and becomes firm and chewy due to rapid cooling, with just the right amount of saltiness.

Next comes the thin layer of fat under the skin. Finally, there's the tender, juicy leg meat!
Because it is perfectly slow-cooked at a low temperature, the meat is not dry at all, but instead full of juicy meat.

With each chew, the delicious juice, a blend of sea salt and fruit flavor, bursts forth in your mouth!

This is more than just a meal; it is the greatest reward for his patience and courage!
After finishing this meal, Lin Yu'an had stored up the most energy for the even more arduous challenges tomorrow.

Good morning, everyone. It's the eighteenth day.

Lin Yu'an's voice rang out in the silent shelter, deep and powerful.

“Yesterday, I upgraded my trap lines. Today is the day to test the results. In the snow, any trace will be magnified. I hope to get some results.”

He put on the homemade snowshoes, the huge uppers distributing his weight evenly.

Lin Yu'an stepped out of the shelter and into the silent white world covered by fresh snow. Only the soft "shush...shush..." sound of snowshoes crunching on the fluffy snow could be heard.

"My inspections will follow a basic principle: from near to far, from low-value targets to high-value targets."

As he walked, he explained, "The closest ones to the shelter are the rabbit traps I originally set."

"They're too close to my daily activity area, so the success rate isn't very high. That's why I check them first. Even if I come back empty-handed, it won't affect my mindset for the rest of the time."

Instead of heading directly to the trap area, he circled around the edge of the woodland in a small arc, using the dense spruce trees as cover, and approached stealthily.

He arrived at the location of the first rabbit trap, a classic "figure-four" trigger trap, with the lasso hanging silently on a long-abandoned "rabbit highway".

At this moment, the entire trap was covered with a thin layer of fresh snow, as if it had never been touched.

The surrounding snowfield was flat and clean, with no new animal tracks.

“Nothing at all,” he said calmly, his tone devoid of any emotion.

He stepped forward, without disturbing the scene, and gently used a small twig to remove the snow that was pressing on the trigger mechanism, ensuring that it remained in a sensitive, ready-to-use state.

"After heavy snow, the range of animals will shrink drastically, especially for small herbivores like rabbits."

"They will hide in warm nests to minimize energy consumption, only come out to forage when they are most hungry, and their activity range is usually not too far from the nest."

He moved on to the next one, and the remaining three rabbit traps were exactly the same; no prey passed by.

After inspecting the last rabbit trap, he concluded: "As expected, it seems the rabbits in this area won't be coming out for a while. This trap line probably won't yield any results until the next change in weather."

He did not remove the traps; in the wilderness, any device that is still in operation could bring unexpected surprises.

He simply confirmed their status and then turned around, heading towards a more distant area where he had set up a brand-new "killer trap" for the Thunderbirds the day before.

The journey to that area is longer and the snow is deeper.

But with snowshoes, his speed increased several times over, and he could clearly feel that his physical exertion was greatly reduced.

About twenty minutes later, he arrived at the observation point of the first "forced bow" trap. He hid behind a huge spruce tree, cautiously peeking out to observe the situation dozens of meters away.

From afar, you could see that the camouflaged noose he had carefully set up was still hanging silently under the beam of the bush path, untriggered.

He did not immediately become disappointed, but continued to remain absolutely silent, observing like a statue for a full five minutes.

After all, this area wasn't one he patrolled regularly, and he needed to confirm whether other predators were lurking nearby, waiting to reap the benefits.

After confirming it was safe, he stepped forward, crouched down, and began to carefully "read" the snow around the trap.

"look here."

He pointed to a series of small footprints in the snow and said in a very low voice, "Something has been here. Judging from the shape of the footprints and the fact that it only left shallow marks on the snow, it should be a weasel, a small but extremely fierce predator."

"It was very interested in my trap and sniffed around for a long time, which reminded me that I must collect my prey in time, otherwise these little guys may beat me to it."

He then pointed to the other side, where there was a clearer set of three-toed claw prints.

"And here are the footprints of our target, the Thunderbird. It walked to a spot about a meter from the trap and then stopped."

“Look, the snow here has been repeatedly trampled and compacted, which means it hesitated here for a long time, and may even have stretched its neck to observe that passage.”

"In the end, instead of choosing the easiest path, it turned and squeezed its way through the denser bushes on the side, where a few white feathers that had fallen during its struggle were still hanging."

He stood up, looking at the perfect trap, lost in thought.

"It seems this one is very vigilant. There is never a 100% success rate in setting a trap. Sometimes, you can only admire the prey's intuition."

He didn't touch the trap; instead, he carefully smoothed out his footprints with a twig before turning and moving on to his next target.

Within a circular area about two or three meters in diameter centered on the trap, the snow surface looked as if it had been ruthlessly plowed by a rake!
Countless messy, fan-shaped scratches were deeply imprinted on the snow, clearly recording a desperate and futile struggle.

"We've fallen into a trap! It's a Thunderbird!"

A surge of excitement and anticipation coursed through his body! He immediately burst out from behind the rock, quickening his pace until he was almost at the trap.

The sight before him made him catch his breath.

In the narrow passage made of dead branches that he had built himself, a snow-white willow pheasant had its neck tightly bound by a three-finger-wide lasso, its body hanging limply on the snow.

Its wings were still in the same position as when it struggled last, and its body had long since become cold and stiff in the night's frigid air.

He crouched down and carefully examined his work.

The lasso was tightened very tightly, the steel wire digging deep into the bird's thick neck feathers. This ptarmigan probably didn't suffer too much pain after being lassoed.

A surge of immense joy welled up within him, not just the joy of obtaining food, but also the satisfaction a hunter feels when he sees his meticulously crafted trap function perfectly.

After untying the locked wire buckle, I put the Thunderbird into my backpack, ready to immediately reset the merit trap.

His heightened hearing keenly detected a slight rustling sound as snow was being stirred.

The sound came from the direction of the third trap he had set up, dozens of meters away!

He immediately lowered his body and began to quietly crept towards the source of the sound.

As he rounded a dense clump of junipers, the sight before him delighted him!
At the third trap, another thunderbird was caught in a lasso and was making its last, feeble struggle!

Its wings flapped weakly, but with each struggle, the wire around its neck tightened even more.

Without the slightest hesitation, Lin Yu'an rushed forward, quickly pinned down the still struggling Thunderbird, and cleanly ended its suffering.

He held two heavy, almost identical, plump Thunderbirds in his hands, feeling their astonishing weight, and flashed an irrepressible, radiant smile at the camera.

"A double kill! Unbelievable! My new strategy worked! This proves my judgment was absolutely correct!"

He exclaimed excitedly, "The design of the guide fence and the forced head-down posture is fatal to ground-dwelling birds like the ptarmigan!"

Lin Yu'an was not blinded by his immense joy. This area was the Thunderbird's usual hunting ground, and as long as the traps remained, there was still a chance to catch something.

He must immediately restore the trap to its optimal state and erase all traces of himself.

Lin Yu'an carefully restored both triggered traps to their ready state.

He rearranged the guiding branches, adjusted the lasso to the perfect size and position, and gently supported the bottom of the lasso with a thin stalk of dry grass.

After doing all this, he looked at the two heavy Thunderbirds in his backpack, and then at the deeper forest in the distance.

"Although the flock of birds was scattered, their range of activity remained fixed."

He slung his backpack back on and pointed to the first trap: "The one that escaped this morning, and the companions of these two, must be around here. Since the strategy is working, I should strike while the iron is hot and increase the number of my traps."

Lin Yu'an did not return along the same route, but instead put on snowshoes and continued to explore deeper into the forest.

He carefully observed the tracks in the snow, searching for more bush passages through which the ptarmigan might have passed.

Every footprint on the snow, every fallen feather, every pecked plant bud was telling him something.

He found two more excellent locations, even more secluded than the previous ones, natural passes between two huge rocks, through which any animal seeking a shortcut would inevitably pass.

Lin Yu'an immediately took out a steel wire from his backpack. Using the exact same method as before, he constructed a guide fence using the surrounding dead branches, forced people to bow their heads with a conspicuous beam, and set up a three-finger-wide noose disguised with a strip of white cloth.

"Alright, now I've increased my trap lines from three to five."

"Traps are like investments. The more traps you set up and the wider the coverage, the higher your return. Of course, you have to find the right opportunity, otherwise you're just wasting your time and money."

"Now, this 'Thunderbird automated harvesting line' has taken initial shape."

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(End of this chapter)