“Very well,” I said. “Now that we’ve reached our decision, let’s make the best of it. I think you ought to put more boughs on our roof. A bough roof is no place in the rain anyway, but if there’s merely a drizzle, maybe we can keep it out.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. “When do we eat?”

“Get me some spruce needles for tea. Then I’ll cook us a big turkey drumstick while you fix the roof.”

He got the spruce. When I saw them, I noticed that he had gotten a few hemlock mixed in with the rest. I remembered that some Greek named Socrates was forced to drink hemlock and died, so I was very concerned and made a strong point with Tim that he should be careful not to mistake the hemlock for spruce. Hemlock needles grow in spirals and are flatter than other pines. We had no troubles on this score from then on, although I was convinced that my vigilance had saved us from instant poisoning. You can imagine my embarrassment when, years later, I learned that the North American hemlock evergreen conifer has no family relationship to the poisonous member of the parsley family which was used for the deadly potions of the Greek ancients.

In 1921 we were not as vitamin-conscious as health-oriented people are today. But we were well aware, from hard observation, of the dangers of badly balanced diet, including the dreaded scurvy which didn’t strike just the members of Captain Bligh’s ill-fated Bounty. Trappers in the far north faced grave risk of this disease, particularly when their food was overcooked and its vitamin C was destroyed. It was because spruce tea—indeed, tea made from any evergreen needles—was especially high in ascorbic acid that scurvy ceased to be a problem with those northern travelers who would take the time and use the common sense to brew up a batch once every day or so.

I broiled the drumstick carefully, dipping it every now and then into the rich stew so that when it was done, it was glazed and fragrant. Tim and I dined handsomely on it and some stew. I took what was left and put it in the stew along with the large bone, which I broke first.

In telling this story, I have noticed that perhaps I have seemed to make too much of food, but then, there’s a reason for that. At this stage shelter was no real problem. There was no recreation or diversion other than trying to keep ourselves fed, so our thoughts and actions were constantly oriented toward the capture, preparation, and consumption of food. Food is life, and we were determined to keep our sights fixed constantly on the preservation of our lives.