• The BladeForums.com 2024 Traditional Knife is ready to order! See this thread for details: https://www.bladeforums.com/threads/bladeforums-2024-traditional-knife.2003187/
    Price is $300 $250 ea (shipped within CONUS). If you live outside the US, I will contact you after your order for extra shipping charges.
    Order here: https://www.bladeforums.com/help/2024-traditional/ - Order as many as you like, we have plenty.

  • Today marks the 24th anniversary of 9/11. I pray that this nation does not forget the loss of lives from this horrible event. Yesterday conservative commentator Charlie Kirk was murdered, and I worry about what is to come. Please love one another and your family in these trying times - Spark

Game Gathering Methods

G'day Coote

So what do lizards and seabirds taste like Mick? Great pics thanks.
Lizards aren't too bad at all. Goannas can be a bit on the oily side but still easily edible. Snakes are good too :thumbup:

Shags would have to be the worst wild food I have tried. Oily and VERY strong fishy flavour :thumbdn:. To tell you the truth, I'd have to be pretty desperate to eat another one :D


Kind regards
Mick
 
we always got plenty frogs with a plastic worm and a fishing rod or cane pole.
sometimes you could use a top water lure as well.toss is on the bank close to the frog, let it set for a few seconds and give it a little jerk. the frog always turned to see what it was and usually tried to gulp it down.

gigging was my least favorite way to get 'em.
too bloody.
buzz

I have yet to see a bull frog who could resist a plastic worm. Its funny, watching them use both hands to stuff the whole thing in their mouth.

Oldcw4. You had quite a child hood.
 
G'day Doc


Yes I have.

One feral goat and quite a few wallabies.

The trick is to get close to them before launching the spear (leaves less room for error in your aim).



Kind regards
Mick

Excellent. Were the spears fletched or unfletched? I know the pictures I've seen of indigenous people in Australia with woomeras, had unfletched spears. A lot of people in North America who use woomera (usually atlatls here), use fletched darts (our terminology).

I think you mentioned it before, but I'm working with the handicap of a 63 year old memory :(, what do the indigenous Australians prefer to be called?

Thanks Mick,

Doc
 
G'day Doc

Unfletched, about 8 - 10 foot long.

Just about every Aboriginal I know prefers to be call "Kouri"




Kind regards
Mick
 
Spearing those animals is an impressive feat Mick. Do you ever bounce the spear off the ground just before it reaches the target? (I hope you can see what I mean.... aiming deliberately low in order to have the spear hit the ground and bounce upward into the target).
 
G'day Coote

Do you ever bounce the spear off the ground just before it reaches the target? (I hope you can see what I mean.... aiming deliberately low in order to have the spear hit the ground and bounce upward into the target).
I know what you mean, kinda like skipping a stone on the water.

No, I generally aim for a direct hit in the ribcage.

I last took an animal with a spear before I got a digital camera (therefore no pics). Next time I go bush for a week, I'll spend the time to make a spear & carve out a woomera and see if I can get some pics to post up :thumbup:




Kind regards
Mick
 
I'm impressed.

I guess the woomera is difficult to use in the actual forest because of all the room you'd need to make a swing.
 
Never tried frogs as food, and the big ones aren't common in my neighborhood. But I am interested to know whether you just eat the back legs, or whether there is more meat on them elsewhere. Is there anything special I should know about preparing frogs for the table? Thanks in advance.... Coote.

I usually keep the back legs, sometimes you get one big enough the front legs are worth going after. These are the size we get around here. That pile of meat was taken in a day. We put out crawfish baskets that morning. (You can see the crawfish tail meat in the upper left corner of the pic.) Caught the fish during the day with wigglers from our worm bed, gigged the frogs that night, and got the crawfish out of the traps on the way back to the camp. I like the frog legs deep fried, but some folks like them saute'd in garlic butter. The most important thing is to not overcook them.

IMG_3527.jpg


That's a couple of meals that cost less than five bucks in gas for the boat, and it wasn't anything you couldn't do with a canoe if need be.
 
Wow... those legs are huge compared to what I've seen. Those frogs must be almost big enough to be dangerous.

Looks like you had a really productive outing.

That picture is further evidence for the wide-held belief that everything is bigger and better in the USA :)
 
dipbait (and others),
Yeah, I guess I had a somewhat unusual childhood. I was born in 34 in Iowa. My folks moved to Portland, OR in 41 to work in the war industries. We moved back to IA in 45 and then to Arkansas where my folks bought a 120 acre farm in Scott County, AR. Our place was about six miles west of Waldron, AR and bordered on three sides by the Quachita National Forest.

Many of the old timers in the area were real 'sure nuff' hillbillies and had all the wisdom and skills acquired as part of that culture. More than a few were old folks who dated back to the Civil War and post Civil War era of the carpetbaggers. I heard a lot of interesting tales and learned a lot sitting on the porch on those hot summer nights listening to the old folks talk. Remember, no tv in that era and we were miles from powerlines so any radios were battery operated and used sparingly to save the expensive batteries--Grand Ol' Oprey, Amos and Andy, and news were about it.

One old lady, Ma Epperson, was in her 90s and sharp as a tack. She would sit in her rocker, dip snuff, spit at (and hit) grasshoppers 20 feet away in her yard, and reminisce about her childhood prior to and during the Civil War. Her family owned a couple of slaves and small scale farmed cotton and tobacco. She knew everything there was to know about local plants, herbs, small game, and so on. I was eleven or twelve at the time and listened with rapt attention. GOD! I've wished so many times there were tape recorders in those days! The old lady had a huge garden, two milk cows, pigs, chickens, ducks, geese, and guinea hens (lots of people nowadays have never heard of a guinea hen with their speckled and tasty eggs). Anyway, she was entirely self sufficient and asked nothing from anyone. I use to help hoe her garden and pick fruit from her orchard and berry patch. She told me how to club possum in the early morning, spear frogs with a sharp stick, catch quail with a box, and what was good to eat from the forest--wild grapes, black walnuts, blackberries, polk salad, wild onions, and on and on. I could write a book if I was skilled enough to do so.

Those people were something else! An almost forgotten breed who settled that wild country and carved out a living in those dense forests. I'm proud now to have known them and been a small part of the end of their days. My family and I, new comers to the area, were received with friendship and taught the ways to survive. Later, when economic hard times hit, we were a part of the local culture which bought (I kid you not!) only coffee and salt from the stores in town. Everything else came off the land. And, know what? We ate like kings! Beef, pork, chicken, eggs, fresh milk, butter, fish from the local ponds and creeks, frogs, birds, tobacco, folk (herbal) medicine, and on and on! Now that I've turned 75, I look back on those days fondly. Sure, like most, I tend to overlook the hard work, dangers, and so on, but---DAMN IT TO HELL!--it was all in all a better and more healthful life than most lead today.

Sorry if I sound maudlin but I firmly believe I achieved some success later in life based on those years in the back woods. I wish more kids today could experience even a part of what I did then......
 
CW4.... you are plenty skilled enough to write a book!!!!!!!

Your style is just fine. I could understand your posts clearly. Furthermore the content of your posts was immensely valuable and interesting to me. And compared to some published authors, at least you have something useful to say.

You are a valuable link between us and the previous generation.

Please do write a book if you feel the slightest desire to do so. If not, please keep posting here.

If you are stuck for ideas, maybe you could answer some questions like:

-How did folks go about washing dishes and their bodies where there was no piped water?
-What was used for lubricating oil for guns etc when store-bought stuff wasn't available?
-How were various types of food preserved to get folks through the lean season?
-Did the folks make their own footwear and clothing? What with? How?
-What was used for lighting?
-How did they tan skins?
-Were there any do-it-yourself recipes for preserving timber so that fenceposts and foundations would last longer?
-If they went hunting a long distance from home, what did they use for shelter?
-Etcetera. I could easily come up with more.

It is good to have you communicating with us CW4. There have been, and still possibly are, a lot of knowledgable people around who could really enlighten us.... but they either came before the computer age, or they never bothered with computers. But you know some stuff, and you know how to go about sharing your knowledge on the internet.

Thanks for what you have given us so far.

With sincere best wishes.... Stephen Coote.
 
This a most enlightening thread. Thank you to CW and all who contributed. I am learning a lot. :cool:
 
CW4,
I'd heartily encourage you to write a book detailing your experiences and knowledge. My own rural childhood was quite rich with somewhat similar characters and experiences but still sounds like a pale shadow next to yours. As I sit here writing this with my own children growing up in suburbia, I feel a real sense of loss for them. I teach them what I can and try to take them to others who can teach them more than I but it's not the same as growing up in a rural environment. With so many people now disconnected from living intimately with nature, knowledge like yours will surely be lost if folks like you don't teach it directly or write about it. Based on your exhibition of written word in this thread I believe you have more than enough skill for the job!!!! Sincerest apologies for the off-topic diversion.
 
I have to say, this is my favorite thread in a long time. I come to the BFC to learn, and this one has tought me more than most others. Old CW4, you and your story remind me of my maternal grandfather. He grew up in Oklahoma during the depression, and had many great stories of how he and his twelve brothers and sisters survived, especially after their father died, and they were kicked out of the house. They lived under an oak tree for a while, and then upgraded to an old hen-house. They had to live off the land as well, and so I am sure they used many similar methods. Grampa moved away, and is now at the other end of an eight-hour drive, so I don't get see him as often as I like, but you have inspired me to make more of an effort. Thanks!
 
Great stuff here!:thumbup:

Old CW4, I like your style! I have to say, the forums have provided a means for us to share and preserve what we can, and in a way, we are all contributors to a book that continues to grow. This I find quite powerful!:)

As for methods, I'm with Mick and Coote, I love my snares! The rabbit hoop snare was one of the first I learned as a boy. Protecting the food in your garden was especially important in the Alaskan climate!

Locally in California, for quail, we dig pits the size of coffee containers, or simply countersink a coffee container in the hole in the ground. Sprinkle some seed in there and a little about. The quail will hop in but the narrow walls doesn't allow them to open their wings to hop out. You can dig a few like this. This way you can leave, but not for too long, as any feral cats might jump on it before you!
We get flocks a hundred strong here, works pretty well!


Although I'm not as old as you tricky geezers (:D), I do recall some old hunting methods that I learned from my youth in Alaska, in particular, an Inuit trick used in the tundra.
Tracking in the snow can be easy, if there is no blinding glare. Snow can fall and wind can blow and fill a track pretty quickly too. And the winter darkness would last all day. Game can be as sparsely spread out in the tundra as a desert.
They would take a knife blade and smear it with blood. They would stick it handle first in the snow. The smell of blood carries far. A predator, such as a wolf, would scent their way to the blade and start licking the bloody blade up. The cold temp. quickly numbs the tongue on the cold blade, and the animal is completely unaware that it is cutting its own tongue up and now licking its own blood. All that's left is tracking the blood spore to the animal, which would sometimes, already be dead or woozy...

BTW, Fishshooter, I love me some frog leg! Lightly breaded. Mmmmmmm....
 
Last edited:
I know deadfall traps get discussed alot. But I just wanted to keep this thread active.

I have found the figure four trigger to be very reliable and effective. It can be set light enough to drop a very heavy weight on to a mouse.

FigFourTrig.jpg
 
Mice are excellent practice for deadfalls!:thumbup:

California tribes would skin and roast a little rodent like mice on the spot. With a rock, they'd mash it up, everything, bone, meat, and eat the mash. Little guys like that, you want to eat as much of them as possible!
 
This is excellent! - the reason why I come to these forums.

thank you for the insights
 
I am reading Life Among The Apaches

[FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Geneva,Swiss,SunSans-Regular]"After leaving Dona Ana, our way led across the lower portion of the Jornada del Muerto until we arrived at what is known as the San Diego crossing of the Rio Grande, a mile or two below where Fort Thorne was subsequently built. As the Jornada del Muerto was the scene of another incident, its description is postponed for the present. The Rio Grande was crossed without much difficulty, and our camp formed near a large lagoon on the western bank of the river. This lagoon was infested by wild ducks and brant, and the Apaches took great numbers of them in the following manner.
[/FONT]
[FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Geneva,Swiss,SunSans-Regular][/FONT]
[FONT=Arial,Helvetica,Geneva,Swiss,SunSans-Regular]"In the early winter, when these birds commenced to arrive in great flocks, the Apaches took large numbers of gourds and set them adrift on the windward side of the lagoon, whence they were gradually propelled by the wind until they reached the opposite side, when they were recovered and again set adrift. At first, the ducks and geese exhibit dread and suspicion of these strange floating objects, but soon they get used to them and pay them no further attention. Having arrived at this stage, the Indians then fit these gourds upon their heads, having been furnished with holes for the eyes, nose and mouth, and, armed with a bag, they enter the water--not over five feet deep in any part--and exactly imitating the bobbing motion of the empty gourd upon the water, succeed in getting close enough to the birds, which are then caught by the feet, suddenly dragged under water, and stowed in the bag. The dexterity and naturalness with which this is done almost exceeds belief, yet it is a common thing among them."[/FONT]

Deer_Hunter.jpg


"About eighteen or twenty miles east of the Copper Mines of Santa Rita, is a hot spring, the waters of which exhibit a heat of 125 degrees Fahrenheit, and after having crossed the Mimbres, the whole party directed its course to this spring. After examining it thoroughly and having the qualities of its water tested by Dr. Webb, we prosecuted our march; but my attention was soon after arrested by a number of antelopes feeding on the plain, not more than half a mile distant. Anxious to procure one, I left the party, and, galloping in the direction of the herd, arrived within five hundred yards of it, when I dismounted and tying my horse to a yucca bush, proceeded cautiously on foot, carbine in hand. Crawling from bush to bush, and hiding behind every stone that offered any shelter, I got within handsome range of a fine buck, and feeling sure that the animal could not escape me, I raised to fire, when, just as I was taking aim, I was astonished to see the animal raise erect upon its hind legs, and heard it cry out, in fair Spanish, "No tiras, no tiras!" --"don't fire, don't fire!" What I would have sworn was an antelope, proved to be a young Indian, the son of Ponce, a chief, who, having enveloped himself in an antelope's skin, with head, horns and all complete, had gradually crept up to the herd under his disguise until his operations were brought to an untimely end by perceiving my aim directed at him. The Apaches frequently adopt this method of hunting, and imitate the actions of the antelopes so exactly as to completely mislead those animals with the belief that their deadliest enemy is one of their number."

Apache camouflage
As witnessed by John Cremony, ca. 1864

While crossing an extensive prairie, dotted here and there by a few shrubs and diminutive bushes, Quick Killer volunteered, while resting at noon, to show me with what dexterity an Apache could conceal himself, even where no special opportunity existed for such concealment. The offer was readily accepted, and we proceeded a short distance until we came to a small bush, hardly sufficient to hide a hare. Taking his stand behind this bush, he said: "Turn your back and wait until I give the signal." This proposition did not exactly suit my ideas of Apache character, and I said: "No, I will walk forward until you tell me to stop." This was agreed upon, and quietly drawing my pistol, keeping a furtive glance over my shoulder, I advanced; but had not gone ten steps, when Quick Killer hailed me to stop and find him. I returned to the bush, went around it three or four times, looked in every direction--there was no possible covert in sight; the prairie was smooth and unbroken, and it seemed as if the earth had opened and swallowed up the man. Being unable to discover him, I called and bade him come forth, when, to my extreme surprise, he arose laughing and rejoiced, within two feet of the position I then occupied. With incredible activity and skill he had completely buried himself under the thick grama grass, within six feet of the bush, and had covered himself with such dexterity that one might have trodden upon him without discovering his person. I took no pains to conceal my astonishment and admiration, which delighted him exceedingly, and he informed me that their children were practiced regularly in this game of "hide and seek," until they became perfect adepts. We have far-reaching rifles and destructive weapons, but they must ever be ineffective against unseen enemies; and it is part of a soldier's duty, while engaged in Indian countries, to study all their various devices.


Another excellent illustration of their skill in concealment was given me by Nah-kah-yen. We were hunting together, when a large herd of antelopes made its appearance. Nah-kah-yen immediately tore off a small strip from an old red handkerchief and tied it to the point of a yucca stalk, at the same time handing me his rifle and saying: Ah-han-day anah-zon-tee--"go off a long way"-- he instantly buried himself under the sand and grass with the ease and address of a mole. I at once moved away several hundred yards, and sought to creep up to the antelopes, who were evidently attracted by the piece of red rag fluttering on the yucca stalk. Not wishing to interrupt the sport of my savage comrade, and anxious to witness the upshot of his device, I remained a "looker on and a spectator" of the affair. In a little while a marked commotion was noticeable in the herd, which galloped off very rapidly for a hundred yards or so, but soon recovered their equanimity, and again approached the attractive red rag. These strange agitations occurred several times, until the antelopes finally dashed away over the plains with wonderful speed. Nah-kah-yen then arose and beckoned me to come, which I did, and found that he had killed four of the herd. We had all the meat our horses could well pack, but the distance to camp was only five miles and soon made.
 
Back
Top