April 7

11C and sunny.
I'm running a bit behind this am for some reason. Had company last night so got to bed a little later than usual. Yesterday, I published "Stories and Poems From Here and There" Which is a book of most everything I've put on here in the last year - all collected under one cover.
It's available at Lulu.com but won't be available as an ebook for a couple more weeks.

Here's todays continuation.

‘I wonder if I should have lit that signal fire when I saw one of those boats or one of the airplanes.’

It was so, he had seen boats passing by on a half dozen occasions and about once a week a small sea-plane passed by to the east of his location. At first he considered rushing to where the pyre of limbs and chunks were piled but always convinced himself that it would be too late by the time he got a fire going. After the first few times he quit making the excuse and ignored the idea of being rescued.

Once one small boat had come close into the beach below the clearing where the signal fire was prepared. He had spotted it just as he was stepping out onto the beach and had quickly crouched down then retreated deeper into the bush until the boat had gone.

As he contemplated his situation, a thought came to him; if there were deer on this island, there would be deer on others. If he could get to one of them and he had a weapon, he could have fresh meat and not feel any guilt about killing any animals he was beginning to regard as his friends.

“I can make a bow, I made them when I was a kid, arrows maybe a little difficult without proper tools, but I’ll figure it out and I’ll build a raft.” He said staring at the stove. 

Chapter 2

The next morning Bob awoke earlier than usual and after a sardine breakfast he headed out, swede saw in hand. The rain had stopped during the night but  a blanket of somber clouds hovered a few hundred feet above him. Once again he was clad only in his breechclout and canvas moccasins, although the air was cool, he had no concern about staying warm enough. He set off at a slow trot.

His choices for wood for a bow were limited by the tree species that grew on the island, so he had decided he would find a small cedar and split out the heart wood.

It took only a few minutes to arrive at the area where the most cedar were growing but after an hour’s search he hadn’t found a suitable tree.

He reversed his direction and headed towards the spring, once there he, turned and headed in a direction that would take him through the middle of the island.

A short while later he spotted a smallish cedar growing in the shadow of several hemlocks and a large spruce. It was under a foot in diameter and had grown tall in its quest for more sunlight.

Unable to put in a proper undercut with his saw, he sawed three parallel cuts into the tree, then after breaking the middle chunk out with his knife he put in a slanted back cut and had the tree on the ground in a few minutes.

He only needed a piece about six feet long, he presumed that the best heart wood would be at the bottom, but carrying a six foot chunk with a diameter of about ten inches would be a heavy burden. So compromising he cut the tree in half then working from there he progressively worked his way towards the butt. When he was still some distance from the butt end the core started to show stronger definition, he moved down the trunk a couple more feet and sawed through once again. Now satisfied that he was in to the best area he paced off just over six feet and cut the tree again.

Bob sat down on the base piece of the tree and after a brief rest, stood the piece he wanted on end, squatted and tilted the short log onto one shoulder, picked up the saw and headed back.