The Packhorseman

18. Uktena

18 Uktena The next day the wind was blustery and none of the hunters went out. William and Jim-Bird spent most of the day on the Gunsmith’s side of the camp. As a gift, William took along a small portion of the cane sugar he had brought from Charles Town.The treat was well received. The day after that the wind had calmed and the air was cold and crisp.They returned to the hunt, but they did not kill any deer.The does were indeed coming into rut.William and Jim-Bird caught sight of several that were not browsing as usual but were moving about with agitation, their tails stuck straight out. Twice they saw bucks following the scent of does, blundering carelessly, taking risks. But they could not get a clean shot. “We’ll get some tomorrow,” said Jim-Bird as they headed back to camp empty-handed. “Be glad you’re not a buck right now. You would be having a perpetual stiff one and would be out to impregnate every doe in the woods. Somehow you would know that the rut’s not going to last long, and you’d be wanting to make the most out of the time you have. It would make you careless and exposed to hunters, not to mention the tangles you’d be getting into with the other randy bucks. Something likeThomas Farrell when he goes to Charles Town.” “How far I have fallen from my days in the Book Maggot club,” said William. “Last year at this time I was sitting in a coffeehouse in Glasgow discussing the philosophy of Francis Hutcheson.This year I’m stumbling through the woods in the wilds of America discussing the philosophy of a buck with a stiff prick.” The next day they returned and set up a blind in a clump of small cedar trees near a scrape. Jim-Bird had brought along some sections of deer antlers. “Let’s 210 / Chapter 18 see if we can call in a buck for a fight,” he said. He rattled the antlers together moderately hard, made a sound that was a kind of grunt-snort, and stamped his feet on the ground.Then they took shelter in the blind and waited silently for a long time. But no buck took the bait. “There ain’t no fighters out there today,” whispered Jim-Bird. “So let’s try this.” He made a shrill bleating sound like the cry of a distressed fawn. Presently a doe appeared, fully alert, looking for the fawn. And trailing closely after her was a very large buck, who cared nothing for the fawn but only for the doe. William drew down on him and felled him with a good lung shot, while Jim-Bird got off a shot at the doe and brought her down. “This buck will easily bring us the price of two skins,” said Jim-Bird as they went to clean and skin them. Later in the day, Jim-Bird shot another doe. They were pleased with their day’s hunt. They had the equivalent of four skins, maybe five, and they butchered all of the meat that they could carry away, leaving the rest to hang on the chance that they might return and butcher more of it. It would keep for days in the cold weather. December 5. Our hunt is still going well. Jim-Bird knows enough about our quarry to keep us in business. And it is a business. Whatever Indian hunters were in ancient times, they are now engaged in the business of killing as many deer as they possibly can. They are so good at it, the herds in their usual hunting grounds are getting thin. Late in December a heavy snow fell and lay on the ground for several days. The deer were bedded down, not moving about. William and Jim-Bird took advantage of this time to repair their clothing and equipment and to rest up from the hunting they had done. They had already accumulated a large store of skins, and Otter Queen was hard at work processing them. William offered to help, but she would not let him. “You would ruin them,” she said. He was amazed at the efficiency with which she worked, and he liked watching her as she moved about. The baby that was quickening in her belly did not seem to slow her down at all.Though she would not...