Outdoor Survival Skills

1The BadgerstoneAs a boy, I was filled with desert things.Beyond the green of hay fields, in a land of sand and sage, I sifted artifacts of clay and bone and stone and ancient ways, filling my imaginings with adventures, digging
secrets from rock shelters and caves. I recovered the cry and mighty
thrill of the chase and the taste of broiling meat. I found the chill of
winter and starving and the blast of summer's alkali wind. It was all
mine, the Anasazi Way—a new way to "the making of a being." I was
hearing a new voice from the dust.The tones of flaking flint and the crumbling metate humbling seeds
into small ashcakes stirred up desire in me to survive, to master some
skills of the Ancient Ones. I stepped far from bicycles and baseball into
the making of a long walking.After many years, I sat on a rock and wrote the first edition of this
book. I gathered about me many Walkers wanting to make a living off
the land and wanting to use Stone Age tools for making it. Awakenings
happened that transformed me. They came in events of discovery: the
blinding whiteness of sunbaked eyelids; the sight of perfect growing
edibles; the arching curve of my sleek rabbitstick; the flickering heart of
my precious prey; the darkened dust of countless cooking hearths; generations
of stone, bone, and fiber; the satisfaction and warmth of fire.


The badgerstone changed my life forever. It all began when I was
twelve years old.In the BeginningMiss Romain wanted my eyes on the blackboard, but out the window
and westward across the desert lay the cave, and my eyes saw only the
treasure in its deep floor. On Tuesday, I started making a new pair of
high-topped moccasins from an old pair of field boots. I cut off the
soles, turned the boots inside out, and started sewing on soles of cowhide
leather.On Wednesday I rolled up a blanket pack, sharpened my pocketknife
and a small hunting knife, and made a long possibles bag from the leg
of an old pair of Levi's. I filled it with survival supplies: fishhooks and
line, bandages, matches, notebook, pencils, two muskrat traps, a roll of
waxed linen string, three apples, one large onion, three potatoes, three
carrots, a poke of salt, a small canteen of water, three dry biscuits, and
one Hershey bar (in case of emergency). By midnight I had the soles stitched on my moccasins and a long
piece of clothesline rope tied onto my blanket roll. I was ready.My mother had watched my preparations carefully and had suggested
enough additional gear to fill a covered wagon. I told her I wasn't going
clear to Oregon. "Besides," I said confidently, "you're lucky Fm even
taking this stuff. If I really went whole-hog Paiute, I'd have to go naked,
'cept for my moccasins, 'cause they're the only things I have that's real
Indian."