American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

Not long after, Fett carried two pine logs as thick as his arms and left them in front of the shelter, then sawed them into sections with a handsaw.

He cleared a space in front of the shelter's entrance and built a fire wall around it with stones.

After cutting off the bark, Fett used the serrated edge of his knife to scrape off a small pile of fine wood chips and shavings from the heartwood, and also collected some dry, thin twigs.

Place the oily wood shavings in the middle and place thin branches on top.

Fett didn't use a lighter; since he was going to test the knife, he might as well try the whole thing.

He unscrewed the end cap on the handle of the camping knife and poured out the magnesium rod inside.

He held the magnesium rod with his left hand, gripped the knife with his right, and used the specially sharpened 90-degree angle on the back of the knife to scrape the magnesium rod hard.

"Sizzle—"

A large burst of dazzling sparks flew out and landed precisely on the pile of wood shavings.

When pine resin comes into contact with a hot spark, it is instantly ignited, and bright yellow flames leap up.

Fett added a few more thick pine logs to the fire. The flames licked the firewood, crackling and popping, and a warm wave spread out in front of the shelter, dispelling the surrounding chill.

He took out a roll of thin wire from the side pocket of his backpack, then turned and went into the woods to find three damp hickory tree branches of uniform thickness that were not easily burned.

Trim off any excess twigs with a camping knife, tightly twist the tops together with wire, fork them apart, and insert them into the soft soil to form a sturdy tripod, which is then placed directly above the campfire.

Next, he bent a piece of wire into an S-shaped hook and hung the cast iron pot that Leila had brought above the flames.

As soon as the bottom of the pot touched the flame, it made a slight sizzling sound.

He unscrewed the bottle of purified water and poured it into half a pot.

"Glug, glug."

Before the pot was even full of water, a scream suddenly came from the riverbank.

"Ah! The fish is here!"

Leila's voice trembled with excitement, filled with barely suppressed emotion:

"Fett! Look! It's huge! We'll have fish soup!"

Fett turned around abruptly.

Lyra stood on the rocks on the shore, her body leaning back at an exaggerated angle, her feet firmly planted on the ground, and her hands tightly gripping the fishing rod.

The slender lure rod was already stretched into a full bow, its tip bent to its limit, nodding wildly and emitting a "buzzing" sound as it struggled under the strain.

In the distance, the calm water surface churned with white waves, and a huge black shadow struggled desperately underwater, splashing up large sprays of water.

"Hold on! Slowly slide towards the shore! I'll get the landing net!"

Fett put down the plastic bottle he was holding and ran towards the river, crunching the ice shards on the mud under his feet.

Leila gritted her teeth, her face flushed, and while adjusting her breathing, she carefully turned the fishing reel to reel in the line.

The big fish thrashed about underwater, trying several times to dive into the deeper water, but Leila pulled it back each time.

As the fishing line gradually shortened, the big fish was finally forced to move closer to the shore.

Just as it was about to be pulled out of the water, the fish suddenly flipped over, revealing a bluish-black back and a huge mouth. It was a bigmouth catfish weighing five or six pounds!

"It's huge! My God!" Leila's eyes lit up with excitement.

However, at that moment, the fish seemed to sense danger, or perhaps it saw the figure of a person on the shore. Suddenly, it frantically flicked its tail and fled in a different direction.

It plunged headlong into the edge of the thin, knife-like ice that extended into the water from the shore.

"Oh no! Let go of the line!" Fett shouted, holding the landing net.

But it was too late.

The taut nylon fishing line rubbed hard against the sharp ice.

"Boom!"

A heartbreaking soft sound.

The fishing rod, which was originally bent like a bow, suddenly straightened, losing all resistance.

Laila lost her balance, cried out in surprise, and landed hard on her bottom on the icy mud.

A splash appeared in the distance, and the big fish that was about to be caught flicked its tail, disappearing instantly into the deep, murky river with the sequined lure, leaving only ripples that seemed to mock the people on the bank.

"ah--!!!"

Leila looked at the empty water and let out a frustrated wail:

"My fish! My dinner!"

Fett came over, reached out and helped her up, patted her shoulder, and comforted her:

"It's alright, it's still early, we've only just begun."

"There are plenty of fish in this river. If one gets away, there's always another. We can just keep fishing. Don't be discouraged."

After hearing Fett's words, Lyra took a deep breath, her eyes rekindling with fighting spirit:

"You're right! I'm going to make sure you get to eat fish today!"

She picked out a new jig head and soft bait from the lure box, tied it up, baited it, and then stood on the bank, staring intently at the water, and began a new round of casting.

Seeing that Lyra had regrouped, Fett also turned around and went back to the camp.

Although the fire has been started and the shelter has been set up, the environment on the ground is still somewhat harsh.

The fire melted the thin ice on the ground, turning the ground wet, cold, and muddy, making it impossible to sit down.

"We need to get a seat off the ground, otherwise we'll have to squat to eat later."

Fett stretched out his arms to measure the width and height of the shelter and decided to make a simple bed that could be used as a chair and also as a place to lie down when tired.

He first moved some large stones and built two parallel stone walls next to the fire, about knee-high.

Next, he dragged over two straight wooden poles, each about the thickness of a wrist and over two meters long, and used a camping knife to scrape off the ice and bark from their surfaces.

At the corresponding positions at both ends of the wooden pole, he used the serrations on the back of the knife and the blade to cut V-shaped grooves evenly at intervals.

These two long wooden beams were placed against the stone wall to serve as the main beams of the bed.

Then he went into the woods and collected a large bundle of short sticks, each as thick as an arm.

Back at camp, Fett laid the short sticks horizontally across the two main beams, wedging them into the pre-cut grooves.

To prevent slippage, he also tied several key crossbars with paracord.

Soon, a bed frame resembling a flat ladder was formed.

But that's not all; sitting on a bare wooden stick is uncomfortable.

Fett went into the woods and broke off many pine branches with leaves and some dried ferns.

He thickly spread these soft branches and leaves on the bed frame, layer upon layer, until it was completely covered and even had a bit of elasticity.

Finally, he took out the old red and black checkered wool blanket from his backpack, unfolded it, and laid it flat on this natural mattress.

I plopped down on the makeshift bed covered with a wool blanket and gave it a try.

It's just the right firmness, half a meter off the ground, completely isolating you from the chill seeping up from the damp, frozen soil.

Right in front of you is a crackling, warm campfire that smells of pine resin, and behind you is a waterproof tarpaulin that blocks the biting wind. On this desolate, icy riverbank, this is practically a five-star experience.