Wild Game

Community Challenge: Virtual Insanity ▼

https://www.writing.com/main/profile/note_id/816666
The critters on the floor at 1:12 look like woodlice (pillbugs) so that's how I took them.

WILD GAME

It was his second day of being lost, his second day without food, and Davey's stomach ached and grumbled. He had no idea how he'd got separated from the rest of the hiking group, but he'd had survival training in Scouts, and had done a three-day fast at a church youth group once, so he hadn't panicked. He'd stayed where he was, only moving down hill a bit to the creek. He had a Bic, so he'd built a fire to keep warm and made a brush shelter for the night. He knew that with water, he could survive for a week or two - but dang, was he hungry!

He didn't recognize any of the plants around him, so that was no help. He mentally catalogued the things he'd eaten on the survival course. Berries - wild raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, bunchberries, high-bush cranberries--not a one in sight. Plants--chickweed, dandelion, fireweed, pigweed, plantain. He searched both banks of the little creek and didn't see anything familiar. Critters--frogs, crickets, sowbugs, bird eggs, ants. He wandered up and down the creek, always keeping note of his base camp. No frogs, no ant hills. Birds in the trees, but how to catch them or find their nests? Searching used energy and his gut complained bitterly. He drank more water from the fast-running creek to shut it up, and ignored vague memories of beaver fever. He'd found a tin can on day one, and had at first used it to boil the water he drank, but right now it was too much work.

He sat down with his back against a fallen log to rest, ignoring the pain in his belly. He knew that by the end of the second day it would settle down, and that by day three he wouldn't feel hunger. But he hoped he'd be found before that.

Idly, he broke off a piece of rotted bark, and spotted a little black bug with multiple legs scurrying for cover. He sat up and broke off more bark, watching with interest as half a dozen of the little creatures darted back under the log. When he poked one, it curled up into a little armoured ball. Yes! Woodlice! Not insects, but crustaceans, related to shrimp. He'd eaten one at the survival course and not barfed.

He returned to his shelter to retrieve his tin can and carried it back to the log. He got three rocks from by the creek, and gathered materials for a fire--again his Scout training was handy. He filled the can with creek water, built his fire, and set the water to boil. Once it was boiling, he grabbed as many pillbugs as he could find and popped them in to cook. When the fire died down and the can cooled enough, he drained the water and chowed down.

The bugs were crunchy and fairly tasteless. Not bad at all. They satisfied his hunger. Then he thought about pillbugs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until he was found.

Oh, man, what he wouldn't give for a Big Mac.