American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 177 Shelter in the Blizzard
He quickly filled his backpack, carrying the heavy ice, which must have weighed at least several dozen kilograms, and struggled back to the shelter.

He poured the crystal-clear ice blocks into a snow pit outside the shelter, and without stopping, immediately turned around and walked back to the river.

He needs to make several trips to store enough water to last the entire storm season.

After Lin Yu'an had stored up enough ice, he looked up and examined his shelter creation, braving the increasingly fierce gusts of wind.

The walls and foundation were as solid as a rock, so he had no worries. His only concern was the roof.

"Although my roof is covered with a thick layer of mud and moss, this insulation layer is also its most vulnerable part."

"The gale-force winds brought by a bomb cyclone are strong enough to overturn a car, let alone this small mud roof, and may even tear the tarpaulin underneath."

"I must put a final layer of insurance on it before the storm reaches its peak."

Instead of cutting down new timber, he turned his attention to the large number of heavy stones of varying sizes left over from the construction of the stone wall.

He immediately got to work. He first found a few logs, then carried them piece by piece to the roof and laid them evenly on the surface of the soil.

"The purpose of these logs is to distribute the pressure, just like snowshoes, so that the weight of the stones can be evenly distributed across the entire roof."

Then he began his last and most strenuous physical task of the day.

He carried those granite blocks, each weighing over ten kilograms, one by one, from the ground to the roof, which was taller than a person.

He piled up the logs on the roof one by one, especially along the edges and the windward side of the roof, where he placed the most stones.

When he placed the last stone, the entire mud roof was covered with a solid stone array.

The immense weight of these stones pressed the entire roof—from the mud, moss, and tarpaulin to the log structure at the bottom—firmly against the walls.

Now, not even a strong wind, let alone a bear walking across it, can shake it in the slightest!
After he finished all this, it was completely dark, and the last glimmer of light was swallowed up by the rolling dark clouds. Only then did he finally stop working.

Lin Yu'an returned to the warm shelter, and with her last bit of strength, closed the heavy wooden door and bolted it shut.

"Bang!"

The apocalyptic winds from the outside world were instantly reduced by 90%, turning into a dull background noise.

He slumped down in front of the fireplace, leaning against the warm fire. He had been working hard all day and had done extreme physical labor before the storm arrived. He was so exhausted that he felt like he could eat a whole cow!

I decided to immediately dispose of the morning's spoils and prepare a hearty dinner to provide the energy to withstand the long night and the cold.

Lin Yu'an quickly dealt with one of the Thunderbirds on the stone slab at the entrance of the shelter.

He roughly plucked the downy feathers from the chest and abdomen and stuffed them into a rabbit skin bag. He would have plenty of time to deal with these top-quality insulating materials after the storm.

Then, he completely peeled off the hairy skin, skewered the heart, liver, and gizzard he had taken out, and roasted them over a fire as an appetizer.

Then, his gaze fell on the inside of the Thunderbird's abdominal cavity and a clump of yellowish fat on its tail.

He carefully scraped the fat clumps off completely with the tip of his knife and placed them in a bowl made of birch bark.

"To prepare for winter, Thunderbirds store a lot of fat in their bodies, and this fat is more valuable than the meat itself."

"It would be too wasteful to eat them directly. I'm going to render them into oil, which will be my most efficient source of energy and a versatile resource for the next few days."

He placed the iron pot over the fireplace until it was scorching hot, and then poured the entire small bowl of yellow fat into it.

"Fuck-"

The fat melted instantly upon contact with the scorching hot wok, producing a delightful sizzling sound! A rich aroma of oil even overpowered the smell of burning firewood.

He stirred the mixture incessantly with a flattened wooden stick, watching the lumps of fat slowly shrink under the high temperature, while the clear, golden liquid in the pot increased.

He reduced the fire when all the fat had turned into dry, charred, yellowish-brown residue.

He carefully poured the hot, golden bird oil into a pre-prepared birch bark container.

The small bowl gleamed enticingly in the firelight.

"Thunderbird oil, got it." He held up the small bowl, facing the camera, his face full of satisfaction.

As for the two pheasant meats that have lost their fat, at this temperature, the fresh meat can be stored for several days without spoiling, so there is no rush to smoke them.

He tied one of the ptarmigans directly to a rope and put it into a cattail basket, where the temperature was extremely low, making it a natural freezer.

Moreover, Lin Yu'an had covered it with a lot of wood, so he wasn't worried about other animals stealing his home.

He planned to have the other one as his dinner that night.

He cut it into eight pieces, using some to make soup and the rest to be pan-fried directly with freshly rendered Thunderbird oil.

After finishing this extremely lavish dinner, he filled the fireplace with the most durable hardwood and then crawled into his warm sleeping bag.

Outside, the wind grew louder and louder, gradually transforming from a howl into a roar like the low growl of a wild beast.

He knew the storm was coming!
Day 19.

Lin Yu'an was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud, deep, resonant sound.

The sound didn't come from any specific direction outside, but seemed to come from all directions, even from underground.

The entire semi-subterranean shelter he was in was trembling slightly with this low-frequency resonance. He immediately sat up in his sleeping bag and listened intently. It wasn't an earthquake; he could clearly distinguish that it was the sound of the wind.

A sound he had never heard before, like the continuous roar of thousands of wild beasts in the valley.

He immediately opened the door and observed the situation outside. The sight before him made him gasp for breath.

The world outside the door has completely disappeared; there is no sky, no earth, no forest, only a pure, flowing white expanse.

Countless snowflakes and ice crystals were whipped up by the gale and lashed everything wildly at an almost horizontal angle.

He couldn't even see the spruce tree ten meters away; the whole world seemed to be swallowed up by this white chaos!

Occasionally, when the wind subsided slightly, he could catch a glimpse of the forest's outline; the normally sturdy and upright spruce trees now resembled weeds swaying in a hurricane.

They were bending and swaying wildly with a heart-stopping force, and he had no doubt that some of the weaker trees had already been snapped in half by now.

What was seeping in through the crack in the door was no longer just cold air, but a nearly solid "white airflow" mixed with ice particles and snow.

Lin Yu'an slammed the door shut again. He could feel the heavy wooden door making a rhythmic "thump...thump..." sound under the continuous impact of the wind, like an invisible giant banging on the door!
He began to carefully examine the condition of the shelter, running his hands over the walls made of logs and moss inch by inch, feeling for any cold drafts.

He was very satisfied with the result; the wall was as solid as a rock, and he could hardly feel any airflow.

He looked up at the roof again. The five-layered structure, made of logs, tarpaulin, moss, mud, and stone, stood firm as a mountain under the weight of the storm, without making a sound.

The most crucial thing was the chimney. He walked up to the fireplace and carefully observed the flames in the hearth.

Despite the howling wind outside, the flames inside the stove burned steadily and vertically upwards, without the slightest sign of shaking or backflow.

This proves that his design of the flue structure and height was entirely correct.

He looked at the camera and belatedly said, "All the hard work beforehand was worth it at this moment; it held up."

Once he confirmed that the shelter was absolutely safe, the last bit of tension in his heart finally eased.

He walked to the pile of firewood, which was waist-high and exuded the scent of dry wood, giving him a primitive yet reassuring sense of security.

“In this kind of weather, I could be stuck here for a day, two days, or even longer.”

Instead of feeling anxious, he felt an unprecedented sense of peace and comfort.

He sat on the stool made from a huge tree stump, leaning against the warm stone fireplace, feeling the comfort of the heat slowly seeping into his body through his clothes.

The firelight from the fireplace is the only, and gentlest, source of light at this moment.

It bathed Lin Yu'an's figure, and everything inside the shelter, in a warm orange hue.

The tools hanging on the wall, the supplies piled in the corner, and even the scattered wood chips on the ground all appear vivid and poetic in the flickering light and shadow.

Lin Yu'an selected a piece of dried birch wood of suitable size from the pile of firewood.

"Time is what needs to be consumed most right now. Staying busy and focused is the best way to combat claustrophobia and the passage of time."

"Since I'm stuck in the shelter, I can do some handicrafts. Today, I'm going to make myself a wooden bowl."

He placed the birch block on the stone slab in front of him and began this quiet and focused work.

First, use an axe with extremely precise force to gradually carve the outer wall of the wooden block into a rough bowl shape, wider at the top and narrower at the bottom.

Wood chips flew everywhere, landing on the ground where they were quickly dried by the heat from the fireplace.

Once the outer outline was basically formed, he began to work on the inside of the bowl. He did not choose to dig it out with a knife, as that would be too physically demanding.

He used the charcoal-burning method again, taking a piece of glowing red charcoal from the fireplace with two sticks and placing it in the center of the block of wood.

Then, find a hollow cattail stem tube that has been prepared beforehand, point one end at the bottom of the charcoal, and begin to blow air rhythmically.

"Huh...huh..."

As fresh oxygen was injected, the temperature of the charcoal rose sharply, emitting a dazzling orange-red light.

The charcoal began to burn downwards, carbonizing the wood below, and a strong smell of burnt wood filled the air.

Once the charcoal had burned to a sufficient depth, he parted the charcoal, took out his sharp Damascus hunting knife, and scraped away the charred, brittle residue from the inside of the bowl, bit by bit.

His left hand held the wooden bowl firmly in place, while his right hand gripped the hunting knife and began to scrape it in a spiral motion at an angle.

The charred wood chips fell from the blade like black snowflakes, curling up and falling.

Inside the shelter, the only sounds were the dull hum of the wind outside and the rustling of a knife scraping wood.

Time seemed to stand still here, and all his attention was focused on the object that was slowly taking shape in his hands.

Once the inside of the bowl was scraped smooth enough, he used the rough surface of a stone to repeatedly rub the wooden bowl, smoothing out all the marks from the knife cuts and scraping.

When he finished, a simple, elegant wooden bowl lay quietly in his palm.

The carving took a long time, and he also felt hungry.

He needed food, and his nearest food supply was in the snow not far outside the door—the Thunderbird he had buried in the snow yesterday after dealing with it.

(End of this chapter)