Day Seventy-Seven, The Trap (Part I)

I spent the entire night thinking, yet I remained uncertain whether these traps would be effective. When it comes to wild boars, there really isn’t a better solution, so I had to at least give it a try.

While constructing the traps, I had to be careful not to let Little Black get near them; if they were too easy to trigger, there was a high risk of accidentally injuring him. That is an outcome I would never want to see. The purpose of these traps is simply to prevent wild beasts from entering the yard—nothing more. It isn't strictly for hunting, though if I happen to catch food, that would be an added bonus.

The first design that came to mind was basic—something even a child would know: digging a pit and covering it with branches and leaves. However, I quickly dismissed this method. Digging a hole isn’t difficult, but digging one deep enough to trap a wild boar or a large predator and keep it from escaping is far more labor-intensive than it sounds. If I really tried to dig such a pit using only the knife and axe I have on hand, it would be a pipe dream to finish in under two days. Even the shallow holes I dug for the perimeter fence posts took half a day, and they were only a few dozen centimeters deep. Even if I managed to dig a meter down, a wild boar could likely jump out with ease.

Since that method wouldn't work, I moved on to plan two. The beauty of this plan is that it requires few materials and the process is straightforward and not overly troublesome. Its only drawback is that while I have seen others use it, I have never tried it myself, so only time will tell if it works on a wild boar.

I returned to the treehouse to retrieve the cable. There was still plenty left, and this trap required it—vines would be useless here. After measuring against a nearby large tree, I began the construction, but a problem arose immediately. I didn't have enough cable, so I retrieved a tree trunk from the yard. In the examples I had seen, people used bamboo, but I had none, so I had to find a substitute.

A replacement was soon found: a small tree trunk. Although it wasn't hollow like bamboo, its purpose was merely to prevent the trapped prey from gnawing through the cable. Whether it’s a wild boar or another large animal, if it bites down with all its might, the cable might not hold. I brought the trunk along to ensure there would be no mishaps.

Next came the crucial part of the trap. Since the cable was quite long, I wrapped most of it around the large tree, leaving only about two meters of slack. I used my axe to cut the trunk down to about one and a half meters—the thickest part of the sapling.

Then, I used vines to lash one end of this trunk securely to the large tree. Of course, if I only tied one end, the other would drop, so I propped the far end up with a thinner section I had cut from the same sapling.

Once the trunk was secured, I moved to the next step. One end of the cable was already tied firmly to the large tree, and at the other end, I fashioned a slipknot. I then wound the cable around the one-and-a-half-meter trunk, letting the slipknot hang from the very tip.

This trunk was positioned about a meter off the ground, and the slipknot, with a diameter of only fifty centimeters, hung from the front. Crucially, the slipknot was suspended in mid-air. Its function was to snare the neck of a boar or other large animal. The harder they struggle, the tighter the knot will cinch. Once they realize escape is impossible, they will inevitably try to bite through the cable, and the purpose of the tree trunk is to block them from reaching it directly.

I walked around to inspect it and performed a simulation with my hands; it worked perfectly, exactly as I had imagined. As long as a large animal steps into that space, a disaster will likely await it.

I placed this trap exactly where the perimeter had been breached the night before. There was a reason for this: directly in front of this spot lies a stretch of forest, and most importantly, there is a trail—clearly formed by frequent treading. This path is likely a foraging route for wild boars or other animals. I didn't want to provoke them unnecessarily, so I didn't set any bait. However, to ensure the trap wouldn't be bypassed and to keep any incoming beasts from wandering off, I used branches to stake out a specific path on the ground.

The branches were arranged in a fan shape, spreading outward from the trap. I chose branches over fifty centimeters long, so if a beast stepped into this fan-shaped zone, it would have no other way to go but toward the trap. Unless in extreme cases where they might detour or trample the branches to leave, the chance of that is very slim. Without perceiving a direct threat, normal animals wouldn't make such a decision.

The first trap was finally finished. Then, I set to work on the second, the third...

By noon, the scorching sun forced me to stop. I had made five traps in total; only the first was intended for large animals, while the others served as warnings to scare off any creatures attempting to enter.

The sultry weather and the morning’s exertion left me with no appetite. I boiled a pot of porridge with the rice I had dried earlier, sprinkled in some sugar, and drank it once it tasted sweet enough. Little Black didn’t seem to like it much; though he ate, he was very slow, which was unlike his usual self.

After filling my belly, I was about to lie down for a nap when I remembered I had forgotten about Little Lightning. I rushed to feed the little guy, who had been crawling around hungrily, a bottle of honey water. He finally settled down and curled up quietly in Little Black’s den.

A nap is a great way to conserve energy. Having been unable to sleep well for several nights due to exhaustion and worry, I drifted off shortly after lying down.

...

I was awakened again by the sound of thunder. It didn't feel like I had slept long at all.

"Is it going to rain again?" I sat up with a start and rushed out the door.

In the distance, over the sea, thick dark clouds were piling up. The scorching sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky above had turned a gloomy gray; the clouds weren't particularly thick, and some light still filtered through, but there was definitely a torrential downpour happening far out at sea. The lightning flashing from those clouds told the story, and the thunder followed close behind.

Rain is an unavoidable annoyance, and I had become accustomed to it. I hurried to gather everything I had left out to dry and brought it into the treehouse—including the dried branches, vines, and leaves.

Just as I finished packing everything away, a blinding bolt of lightning flashed before my eyes, causing a sharp pain. *Boom!* It sounded as if the lightning had struck the nearby forest. That sound was likely a tree collapsing.

At that thought, I scrambled back into the hut, terrified.