Buck signs and debris shelters

A month ago I saw my first fresh buck rub on a small tree right along the bike path that runs past my house. It was a vertical stripe of freshly exposed wood, with ragged bark along the edges. Last week I went to see how that rub has aged. It still
looks fairly fresh but I also found some fresher-looking ones right where I
typically enter
the woods to go to my sit spot. (I wondered how many times I'd walked right past
them,
unseeing). They are in a patch of white pines but the rubs are on small maple
trees. The
wood smells sharp and green but I don't notice any "deer" smell. I've just learned that bucks often scent-mark with urine at the base of these trees. I believe I know what elk
scent smells
like and now I will try harder to smell deer.

This weekend I was out on a survival overnight with the Primitive Pursuits
apprentices.
When we met on Saturday morning, the trees in the state forest still had a
dusting of snow
from the night and it was still overcast and raining lightly; the forecast was
for a high of
44 and a low of 28 degrees. The leaves were all wet from the night. On Friday in
this same
spot, we had gleefully stuffed our clothes with dry leaves, which works
amazingly well to
keep you warm. Now we looked around in dismay at the sodden ground. Our task for
the
weekend was to build debris shelters and sleep in them. We heard ravens calling
overhead,
emphasizing the foreboding we felt about the coming cold, wet night.

To get to our campsite we followed a trail of milkweed fluff that Tim had laid
through the
woods. It was a game his 4 year old son invented a few weeks ago and which we
have used
with kid groups since then. It's a fun activity for introduciing
tracking/trailing. The trail
can be of anything that looks a bit out of place in the environment. The sign
can be on the
ground, on trees, stumps, branches, etc.

We peered around the woods, looking for little bits of white fluff. The trail
led us past a
fresh buck rub on a sapling, complete with a scrape in the leaf litter at the
base. The
exposed soil was drier than what was under the leaves, making me think it had
been done
during the night after the heaviest rain/snow mix stopped, giving the soil time
to dry out a
bit. I didn't think to look for any sign of urine.

When we arrived at our camp we were encouraged to find the ash in the fire
circle still
warm from our small fire the day before. This was only the second time we had
been to
this spot but it's a place Primitive Pursuits takes kids every week. It's in a
mixed hardwood
grove interspersed with hemlock groves.

We spent 6 hours building shelters. It was hard work but we had much incentive;
most of
us hadn't brought sleeping bags. I had with me a wool blanket and my beautiful,
thick
sheepskin coat (what I wore in the woods all last winter). My shelter was low
and wide
because I like to be able to spread out a little. I had piled up a bed of leaves
and covered it
with green hemlock boughs from a downed tree. It made a soft, fragrant, and
hopefully
warm bed. The frame was formed by a large forked branch, actually the end of a
large
downed basswood, with a diagonal ridgepole made from a branch off the same tree.
I
added ribs and hoops made of flexible but dead hemlock, brush to form
"lattice", and
began covering the thing with (wet) leaves. At dusk, I was still piling on
leaves and trying
to figure out what to do for a door.

My doorway, formed by a hemlock hoop, was intentionally small-I could barely
crawl
through. I thought this would help hold the heat. Once inside, the cave-like
shelter
opened up a little. I tried crawling in head first, thinking I'd rather have my
legs and hips
near the door where the shelter was wider. But with my head inside, unable to
see
anything or even raise my head, I had my first experience of claustrophobia.
Trying to
back out, I almost got stuck. That settled it, I was going in feet first.

Dark fell at about 6PM. The sky was clear and thick with stars; it was getting
colder. We
built up three fires in close proximity, for plenty of heat, light, and cooking.
We hung out
by those fires as long as possible, postponing the inevitable. It was a fun
evening of
cooking, eating, and playing games around the fire. At last around midnight we
could
delay no longer. We trundled off to our shelters; some of us attempted to throw
some
more leaves on but it was difficult in the dark (I challenged myself to not use
a flashlight
or a rake). At least the leaves were now drier--only because they were frozen.

Well, it was a long night. My feet were painfully cold most of the night and
every few
minutes I woke up and made sure I could still feel each toe. I moved as many
muscles as I
could in the tiny space to try to keep warm. My door, consisting of my backpack,
was
woefully inadequate. It blocked the light, making it incredibly dark in my cave,
but not
much more. I thought a hundred times of getting up and going to build up the
fire. Each
time I pushed myself to stay a little longer, knowing that it would be hard to
collect
firewood in the dark (We had burned up a lot of the nearby wood with our three
fires) and
that my shelter was hard enough to get in and out of that, once out, I probably
wouldn't
get back in again. I knew my insulation wasn't thick enough when I heard other
people
walking towards the fire. The temptation to join them was strong...but I didn't.

Towards dawn I got a couple of longer snatches of sleep. Waking from one of
them, I
found light coming in above my head. Turns out my doorway, held up inadequately
by the
hemlock hoop, had collapsed under the weight of the leaves. Now I had a
skylight. Well, I
thought, it's light but it's not warm in this valley yet...I'll stay a little
longer rather than
risking being first at the fire and having to build it up (yes, a selfish
thought). I dozed on
and off for maybe an hour and then heard Tim's voice laughing from near the
fire.
Wriggling out of my brush pile like a caddis fly larva emerging from its case, I
caught my
breath momentarily at the beauty of the frost-covered morning. Every leaf on my
shelter
was etched with white; the tall trees around me were scraping the pale blue sky.
The sun
was not yet on us but it was obviously going to be a beautiful day.

Hobbling over to the fire on still-half-frozen feet, I felt relieved that the
ordeal was over. I
found I was nearly the last one to arrive at the fire; a couple people had been
there since
2AM, keeping it going. Several people were lying by the fire, catching a little
sleep. The
rest of us sat around it and swapped stories of how we survived the night. The
sun finally
hit us and as we sat there basking in it I was reminded of a dream from the
night, about
Tim coming to tell me the night was over and me emerging from my shelter to lie
face-
down, basking in glorious warm sun. It was the only moment all night I felt
warm. Now,
sitting in the beautiful morning, I felt very tired but very alive. I had not
succeeded in my
goal to finally sleep warm in a debris shelter. But to have made it through a
well-below-
freezing night with just a blanket and a sheepskin coat was an accomplishmet.

During the night I had sworn I would never do this again--I have nothing to
prove and no
need to be miserable. But now I am thinking about the next time, how I'll
improve my
shelter and how maybe, just maybe, I'll be warm.

--Melissa