Woodcraft | Page 8

in a party of five--two old hunters and three youngsters, the
latter all enthusiasm and pluck--at first. Toward the last end of a heavy
eight-mile tramp, they grew silent and slapped and scratched nervously.
Arriving at the camping spot, they worked fairly well, but were
evidently weakening a little. By the time we were ready to turn in they
were reduced pretty well to silence and suffering--especially the bank
clerk, Jean L. The punkies were eager for his tender skin and they were
rank poison to him. He muffled his head in a blanket and tried to sleep,
but it was only a partial success. When, by suffocating himself, he
obtained a little relief from insect bites, there were stubs and knotty
roots continually poking themselves among his ribs, or digging into his
backbone.
I have often had occasion to observe that stubs, roots and small stones,
etc., have a perverse tendency to abrade the anatomy of people unused
to the woods. Mr. C.D. Warner has noticed the same thing, I believe.

On the whole, Jean and the other youngsters behaved very well.
Although they turned out in the morning with red, swollen faces and
half closed eyes, they all went trouting and caught about 150 small
trout between them. They did their level bravest to make a jolly thing
of it; but Jean's attempt to watch a deerlick resulted in a wetting
through the sudden advent of a shower; and the shower drove about all
the punkies and mosquitoes in the neighborhood under our roof for
shelter. I never saw them more plentiful or worse. Jean gave in and
varnished his pelt thoroughly with my "punkie dope," as he called it;
but, too late: the mischief was done. And the second trial was worse to
those youngsters than the first. More insects. More stubs and knots.
Owing to these little annoyances, they arrived at home several days
before their friends expected them--leaving enough rations in camp to
last Old Sile and the writer a full week. And the moral of it is, if they
had fitted themselves for the the woods before going there, the trip
would have been a pleasure instead of a misery.
One other little annoyance I will mention, as a common occurrence
among those who camp out; this is the lack of a pillow. I suppose I
have camped fifty times with people, who, on turning in, were
squirming around for a long time, trying to get a rest for the head.
Boots are the most common resort. But, when you place a boot-leg--or
two of them-- under your head, they collapse and make a headrest less
than half an inch thick. Just why it never occurs to people that a
stuffing of moss, leaves, or hemlock browse, would fill out the boot-leg
and make a passable pillow, is another conundrum I cannot answer. But
there is another and better way of making a pillow for camp use, which
I will describe further on.
And now I wish to devote some space to one of the most important
adjuncts of woodcraft, i.e., camps; how to make them and how to make
them comfortable. There are camps and camps. There are camps in the
North Woods that are really fine villas, costing thousands of dollars and
there are log-houses and shanties and bark camps and A tents and
walled tents, shelter-tents and shanty-tents. But, I assume that the camp
best fitted to the wants of the average outer is the one that combines the
essentials of dryness, lightness, portability, cheapness and is easily and

quickly put up. Another essential is, that it must admit of a bright fire in
front by night or day. I will give short descriptions of the forest shelters
(camps) I have found handiest and most useful.
Firstly, I will mention a sort of camp that was described in a
sportsman's paper and has since been largely quoted and used. It is
made by fastening a horizontal pole to a couple of contiguous trees and
then putting on a heavy covering of hemlock boughs, shingling them
with the tips downward, of course. A fire is to be made at the roots of
one of the trees. This, with plenty of boughs, may be made to stand a
pretty stiff rain; but it is only a damp arbor, and no camp, properly
speaking. A forest camp should always admit of a bright fire in front,
with a lean-to or shed roof overhead, to reflect the fire heat on the
bedding below. Any camp that falls short of this, lacks the
requirements of warmth, brightness and healthfulness. This is why I
discard all close, canvas tents.
The simplest and most primitive of all camps is the "Indian camp." It is
easily and quickly made, is warm