Hedge of Thorns: Bear Bait

Hedge of Thorns: Bear Bait

No matter how often I consider the jar of bear grease on my pantry shelf, I can’t convince myself it’ll be sufficient for another whole winter. I’m irritated with myself that despite the hunting I’ve done the last several years, and the wandering I’ve done to find drawing subjects, I have not seen where my father installed the tree stand.

I’m not too stupid to have looked up.


I also wish Dad had had one more rifle. Bobby took the only one Dad brought, when he set off to join the Sharpshooters. Bow hunting bear on foot is no picnic, even with my Sig Sauer loaded with varmint and predator ammo as back-up, but it’s the option I have.


Filling every empty clip in the cabin doesn’t take too long. The process leaves five boxes on the table top. I flatten them before adding the cardboard to the fire in the wood stove. When the filled clips are zipped into a belt pouch, it’s time to examine and sharpen my arrowheads.


A check of the shafts reveals no cracks, but the fletching on three arrows needs gluing. After laying those aside on the table to dry, I take time to lubricate the pulley system. A squeak from it would destroy my chances as surely as a blast from Bobby’s harmonica. I add twelve more arrows from Grandpa’s quiver to mine.


“I can arm myself to my teeth, but I also must carry rations.” The question is, what’s left? Meat I might have taken with me went in this morning’s breakfast. I study the pantry shelves. Tumble didn’t use all the cornmeal. I can make mush, even though that takes time to cook. I bring a kettle with me on these expeditions anyway, to boil water for tea. The stacked pull-top cans of smoked fish are not terribly bulky.

I’ve never been fond of the lingering flavor of fish an hour after I’ve eaten it, but the malodorous cans will work well as bear bait.


Weighing the bag of dried peas, I nod and drop it onto the pile, before stuffing the foods into my backpack. Then I go out to the garden, where I pull a few carrots and dig up five good-sized potatoes. Those, I’ll roast in the ashes of my campfires.
Rain or shine, I’ll go tomorrow.



Hedge of Thorns: Bear Bait is a segment of a serialized short story that posts on Fridays.
Check the menu on this blog for other, previously posted serialized stories, here.

4 Comments

  1. Rith

    Reply

    All the food talk has made me hungry. Except for the tinned fish. I can almost smell the fishy odor. Yuck. But for bait— sure. Needed. 😄

  2. Reply

    This reminds me of a song from my childhood: “Fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads…” 😉 Canned fish–oh, my. Our dogs and cats used to love it, but I get on very well without it, except for canned tuna. Canned tuna I actually liked until the BHT did me in. I’ve managed to find it in foil envelopes now without that, so I’m getting to eat a little here and there again.

Leave Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *