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Hunting and Gathering
Rifle season starts tomorrow and I’ve been thinking about hunting and gathering instincts a lot. Something about spending so much time living out of my backpack in the summer sends me into full-on domestic mode in the fall. I’ve been canning and dehydrating all kinds of foraged fruits- huckleberry-gooseberry jam, rosehip jam, rosehip jelly, plum jam, dried plums, dried cherries, frozen cherries. Hopefully soon there will be some game to cram into our freezer. We’re lucky to live in a place where hunting and gathering are both fruitful and status quo. When we tell people that we’re working on a new map of the Bob Marshall they often joke that we should put good hunting or berry picking spots on it. Some people even express concern that somehow we’ll give away they’re secret spot fishing hole or favorite hunting spot. Trying to include all those places on a map would clutter it (and ruin the fun), but we’ve certainly affirmed that the “Bob” is full of good spots.
Jamie often jokes that he needs a cattle prod to keep me hiking down the trail when it’s berry season. My urge to pick berries is almost uncontrollable. I could pick berries all day- something about the level of challenge, the meditative rhythm, the way it’s quiet enough to hear your own thoughts but busy enough to keep from being overwhelmed by them. When I used to work on farms picking strawberries or raspberries was my favorite task and huckleberries are the same. Something about having huckleberries (or any produce) preserved in the freezer (or canned) gives me a sense of security. It’s like having a piece of summer to take with me makes me feel more at ease with the transition to winter.
While Jamie doesn’t have the patience for foraging that I have, I don’t have nearly the patience for hunting that he has. I’ve gone along a few times and sitting quietly on a hillside waiting for something to happen just doesn’t do it for me. For one thing I freeze. For another I’m used to cruising along through the woods, hiking hard. Sitting there, or wandering around without a real destination I get bored. My thoughts feel too loud, time slows down. Still, it feels good to know that the ancestral instincts to hunt and gather are alive and well, even in modern humans. Walking down the trail Jamie will spot a deer frozen a few dozen yards from the trail that I would never notice. But he’ll walk straight though the densest, biggest huckleberry patch that I’ve ever seen without pausing. It works out well in the freezer though.
Finally had the chance to peruse the blog site….Incredible fall here too – in Vermont -warm and sunny – so the action kept on til it could no more… freezing rain all day today. The roads are treacherous, driving me inside. It’s the solstice – one of my favorite days of the year actually. Because here comes the sun!
I love your postings… and here’s a little poem for it.
JAM FEEDS YOU TWICE or WHY MAKING JAM IS SO NECESSARY
Opening the jar in deep winter
Summer runs up your nose and tongue
Your mind drifts….
The day was hot, picking some fruit – strawberries, raspberries, blueberries?
Fragrance saturating the heated air around your head
You feel the high summer on your neck, shoulders and
Where the berries squish on your tongue
Is there any equal to a sun warmed raspberry? I think not.
Nothing more to want…so very rich!
But then there is Persephone’s call to remind us there are dues
And it does indeed break the heart –
So bridging the divide with a jam kettle
We bundle our reassurance in little glass jars
For the toast, PB and J’s
Feeding us again.
(Actually posted 12/21 )
Finally had the chance to peruse the blog site….Incredible fall here too – in Vermont -warm and sunny – so the action kept on til it could no more… freezing rain all day today. The roads are treacherous, driving me inside. It’s the solstice – one of my favorite days of the year actually. Because here comes the sun!
I love your postings… and here’s a little poem for it.
JAM FEEDS YOU TWICE or WHY MAKING JAM IS SO NECESSARY
Opening the jar in deep winter
Summer runs up your nose
Your mind drifts….
The day was hot, picking fruit – strawberries, raspberries, blueberries?
Fragrance saturating the heated air
High summer on your head, neck, shoulders and
Where the berries squish your tongue
Is there any equal to a sun warmed raspberry? I think not.
Nothing more to want…
But Persephone’s call reminds us there are dues.
And it does indeed break the heart –
So bridging the divide with a jam kettle
We bundle our reassurance in little glass jars
For the toast, PB and J’s
Feeding us again.