Snow-Fire Forest

November 13, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in tracking

Crunch. Like cold, broken glass. We trod after one another, taking turns in the lead for two miles, gazes cast into the snow a few feet in front of us, following a coyote's trail. The coyote meets with others, they trot along side each other, cross paths, stop, dig under a log. I try to picture how they were moving in the early, pre-dawn light. Noses to the wind, following that insatiable call of hunger that rules all the beings of this frozen land.

Photos by Reverend Blue Sky (Noel Tendick).

The Moment of My Death

November 01, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in animal processing

Today, we killed two turkeys. Were that all, it wouldn't be worth an out-of-sequence blog post. Today was not my first experience with the death of another entity at my hand, or at the hand of another close by me.

Photo taken by Laura.

Crab Metaphysics

October 26, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in curriculum of the shadows, navigation, coastal gathering

Two days later, I pull an enormous dungeness crab out of our last wire trap. I'm grabbing him from the back and I've picked up crabs this way a dozen times before, but this guy didn't get to be this size through timidity. He reaches back with his whopper of a claw and latches on to my right middle finger.

Photo taken by Cameron MacPhail.

Beginning to End

October 20, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in animal processing

Wednesday we walk into class to find the carcasses of four sheep laying on the ground near the pasture. These are sheep I've met while they lived--we have walked them from their corral to the pasture and back. We have names for some of them. They had personalities. The moment of death has passed, but that is the only part of the process we miss.

Photos taken by Cameron MacPhail.

Navigating a New World

October 16, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in navigation, curriculum of the shadows

A hand goes up at the front of the line. Fingers count down from five. Breathless, buzzing, the four of us trailing the lead scatter off the trail, crouching, slinking into the trees. Mere feet away an enormous upturned tree has left a ten foot deep pit in the ground where its roots used to be. I sink into the depression, poking my head above the rim cautiously.

Photo taken by Laura at Nehalem Bay.

Primitive Skills

October 06, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in bow drill, fire

The spindle of my fire bow goes spinning off in a random direction. The cord pops off the end of the bow. I lean too far in one direction or another and my hand slips, or the board under my foot wiggles too much and everything falls apart. My knee hurts. My back hurts. My shoulder hurts. My wrist hurts.

Photo taken by Mae Mae.

Tracking at Trackers

September 29, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in challenge, tracking

I've always wanted to develop the ability to walk around barefoot, regardless of surface. Through habit and necessity my barefoot periods are usually limited to brief post-shower stints and strictly kept indoors.

Photo taken by Reverend Blue Sky (Noel Tendick) at Eel Creek along the Oregon Coast.

A New Year

September 29, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in challenge, School

The five of us at the Trackers Hunter Gatherer Adult Immersion Program are starting school, too, but we look a little different than the students sitting in rows clutching neatly sharpened pencils.

Photo taken by Cameron MacPhail at Eel Creek, Oregon.

Orientation Day

September 29, 2017 by Laura Reichardt in School, fire

Four of us lay in the grass, a pile of exhausted puppies cuddled up in the dappled sunlight. We gaze through the wheeling maple leaves above, shards of blue sky trickling through like fractals from an earlier time.

Photo taken by Laura at Brec.