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#woodscraft
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"Days of clear brilliance. Evenings that were like cups of glamour—the purest vintage of winter’s wine. Nights with their fire of stars. Cold, exquisite winter sunrises. Lovely ferns of ice all over the windows of the Blue Castle. Moonlight on birches in a silver thaw. Ragged shadows on windy evenings—torn, twisted, fantastic shadows. Great silences, austere and searching. Jewelled, barbaric hills. The sun suddenly breaking through grey clouds over long, white Mistawis. Icy-grey twilights, broken by snow-squalls, when their cosy living-room, with its goblins of firelight and inscrutable cats seemed cosier than ever."
I love winter, and this passage captures perfectly why. Winter is pretty and clean and sparkly and you can breathe easily and it's like the whole world is holding its breath when it wakes up covered in snow.
Anyway it's 100 degrees where I live right now and we've been choking on smoke for days. Let me have my winter escapism!
Someone help me out -- what are John Foster's books about? They're musings on nature, clearly, but I don't at all have a clear picture of what they actually are. I'm curious if it's just a genre that I'm unfamiliar with or if LMM wrote into them what she needed Valancy to hear and didn't think much further on it. I keep wanting them to be basically travel books -- a more sincere Bill Bryson type thing, except focused on nature instead of people -- but we learn more about John Foster later in the book and I don't know that that reading makes sense. The other thing that would make sense for them to be are, like, foraging guides with lots of extra fluff. Like those really pretty recipe books that you buy for the pictures and the stories more than the recipes themselves. But Valancy doesn't do any pulling out of her books to check something she saw in the woods, or recognizing a new plant based on Foster's description -- we learn specifically that Barney teaches her woodscraft and there's no indication that she has an existing knowledge base beyond just having lived in the area.
I guess they could be, like, very fancied up diaries? The passage Valancy quotes at Barney sort of sounds like Foster is talking about a specific day, so perhaps they're accounts of his life, either real or fictional? (Now I'm thinking about My Side of the Mountain and imagining John Foster with a hawk. Do with that image what you will.)
It doesn't super matter, but I keep trying and failing to imagine them and I'm curious what other people think.
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rappaccini · 4 months
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... alright nobody asked for this but i have been thinking and i'm gonna throw my hat in the ring re: the whole ~what hunger games story should suzanne collins write next~ debacle.
and the answer is yes and no. yes, there's a lot of story to explore, but no, people are going about it from the wrong angle.
first, these are ya novels. no matter what, they must have a teenage protagonist because that's the age category the hunger games series belongs to, and these stories are intended to teach teenagers about war. so there can't be any more books about snow, katniss, or any character over 18 (or under 13).
and i do agree that since we've met all the victors from 12 and seen a capitol perspective, the story would have to move somewhere else. i disagree that we need a protagonist we've seen before. no finnick, johanna, annie, beetee, the list goes on. no. we're done with them. we need something new.
we don't even need one from every single district. in fact, you can sort them into a few categories based on common culture, industry, and the strategies of the victors they tend to yield.
career frontrunners: 1, 2, 4. victors rely on sponsors, alliances and weapons training.
tech-based darkhorses: 3, 5. victors are inventive and intelligent.
urban longshots: 6, 8. victors seem to mostly survive by pure luck.
rural darkhorses: 7, 9, 10, 11. victors use knowledge of specific tools and weapons (offense), and potentially their environment (survival skills).
(for the record i'd place 12 somewhere between urban longshot and rural darkhorse; 12 is a rural district, but like 6 and 8 it teaches its tributes few useful skills for the games, but katniss picks hers up because of her woodscraft and hunting, like the rural districts would for their tributes.)
so. the protagonist would have to be new, a teenager, and from a type of district we haven't seen yet.
now when would it take place?
first, it'd be useful to outline the eras of hunger games/panem that we currently know of.
1-11: the early games/post dark days. the games as a punishment instead of a spectacle. performed in a single arena, over in less than a day on average, exclusively a show of force, with winners from 1 and 2 on average, 4 and 11 occasionally, and heavily favoring male tributes. 10th and 11th being the implementation of a host, sponsors, mentors, interviews and muttations, and then a victory tour and prizes for the winner.
12-24: experimental age. fine-tuning of the games as a spectacle. this is likely snow's tenure as gamemaker, when volunteering begun, the career programs in 1, 2 and 4 were established, and also when tributes begun to be treated as celebrities and the games started being televised in the districts.
25: first quarter quell. probably marking the shift in snow from gamemaker to politician, as he went into politics while relatively young; and a way to destabilize the districts internally (... and put down stirrings of rebellion) after a generation of recovery from the war.
26-49: interquell. by now the capitol's fully recovered from the dark days, the rebellion's been fully wiped out, and the games are a pageant that a generation have grown up with, so tributes-as-celebrities is normalized, meaning they're probably being prostituted at this point, if not earlier. the career districts are tradition by now. this is likely when snow quit gamemaking for politics and rose to power.
50: second quarter quell. we know what it is and who won it. by now snow's become president. also, force field tech exists but is worse, and arena engineering seems to have been perfected.
51-61: golden age. the tradition's fine-tuned, victors are numerous and established enough to start networking with one another while in the capitol.
62-74: late games/pre-second rebellion. most memorable tributes from the 75th games from these years. these were the games katniss is old enough to remember, and this would've been the time that victors were starting to prepare for a second rebellion.
75: third quarter quell/beginning of rebellion/final hunger games.
so. we don't need to see any games before #12 and after #61. or #50. cross everything before 11 and after 62 off.
(odds are, they'd probably be a simple number to remember to match the others. tbosas was about the 10th, and thg was about the 74th because collins knew she was writing a trilogy and that catching fire's games would be the 75th so she subtracted one. so in reality, we're probably looking at the 15th, 20th, 25th, 30th, 35th, 40th, 45th, 55th, or 60th games as real contenders. but i digress)
back on topic: we don't need anything before 11 or after 62. we know the broad strokes of what the games were like during these periods, we have examples of victors and their strategies, and more importantly, we know what the political climate of panem was like.
this is important because the hunger games aren't the point of the story. they're the bait to reel you in for a story about war.
collins has gone on record saying her intent for the original trilogy was to discuss just war theory. under what circumstances is it just to declare war? see hunger games and catching fire. how do you wage war justly? watch katniss and gale butt heads in mockingjay. how do you end a war justly? see katniss turning on coin to prevent the rise of another dictator. even the love triangle is meant to show katniss literally flirting with different ideologies.
tbosas was written in the leadup to the 2020 presidential election and made to show how a young man from the imperial core with problematic views can transform into a future tyrant, and how a lack of jus post bellum and the trauma of war itself can perpetuate the cycle of violence.
when you ask yourself 'what hunger games story should we see next?' you should be asking 'what aspect of war should we use this games to explore?'
we don't need 75 books about 75 hunger games. we need one story set in each era, using the games, the political happenings around them, and the culture of the protagonist to discuss an aspect of war.
so. what aspect of war is applicable to each era of the games, and what story could be used to tell it with what kind of protagonist?
12-24 (most likely 15 or 20): how the oppressed can devise ways to rebel within the system, like, arguably, creating the career program... and how that system can be perverted by the powerful, like turning the careers into celebrities and fostering a culture that fetishizes the games within the districts that came up with that program to try and protect themselves, thus breeding loyalists. show us a career who begins with rebellious sympathies, turns into a loyalist after the capitol decorates them in riches (and to cope with their actions), and goes home to perpetuate the cycle of violence.
the 25th: how the powerful shut down and sabotage solidarity among the oppressed by forcing them to turn on each other... like voting each other's children into a death pageant. show us a district starting to consolidate and rebel that implodes on itself after the tensions within the members are inflamed by voting certain children into the games, and the lack of trust and solidarity when the victor returns to a community they can't trust.
26-49 (most likely 30, 35, 40 or 45): since this is the age of snow's political rise and the first time the games would've been an established institution, this would be a good time to show a pedigree career becoming disillusioned, either through their ordeal in the games, or even as a victor being exposed to capitol exploitation or mentoring a doomed tribute and watching them die or win at an awful cost.
51-61 (most likely 55 or 60): how to refoster solidarity in order to begin a resistance movement. the founding of the second rebellion and the initial involvement of the victors in connecting the districts and meeting capitol sympathizers would've likely happened during this time. let's see how.
there's even a pattern emerging. like how tbosas rhymes with thg, we now have two more mirrored stories to work with.
the war story: indoctrination into a regime and radicalization against it. the destruction of a resistance movement and its rebuilding.
you could even go so far as to mimic the tbosas/thg genderflip and make each mirrored story alternate between male and female protagonists.
or tribute and mentor perspectives
and the games' victors having strategies that are opposite to each other-- if the thg-tbosas mirror is hunter in a performance and performer in a hunt, what's the mirror image of a career who wins via brute force and capitol favoritism? one who wins thanks to the mercy of another tribute, or willingly gives up victorship to someone who'd never have won otherwise.
but that's getting too specific. i'll stop it here.
anyway. that's how you do it. no nostalgia. no characters we already know. build out the world and explore the central theme.
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karis-the-fangirl · 2 years
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The Wisdom - Wheel of Time (book!verse), Lan x Nynaeve fic
or ‘Three’s a Crowd’—set during Eye of the World, while Nynaeve travels with Moraine and Lan, the Warder observes the Wisdom.
Fandom: Wheel of Time (book)
Set between chapters 21 and 28 of Eye of the World.
Pairing: Lanaeve
Lan POV
Word count: 2100
Rating: G
also posted on AO3
The Wisdom never complained.
Well, Lan had to admit, she complained frequently, but only about Moraine’s habitual secrecy. Nynaeve, despite her woodscraft, had not a cunning bone in her body—she might be able to move silently through the trees, but she couldn’t help wearing her every thought on her face. Her honest nature found his Aes Sedai’s extreme subtlety aggravating. He couldn’t blame her, and he at least had the benefit of sensing Moraine’s moods, and of trusting her motives.
The Wisdom rode hard and slept rough without a murmur, pushing herself to match his stamina. He had been impressed by her skill in tracking him, and amused by her attempts to first out maneuver Moraine, and then to simply break Moraine’s calm. Only his bond made it possible for him to know how well Nynaeve had succeeded in annoying the Aes Sedai. He had admired her devotion to her people, her determination to find the four young Emond’s Fielders. She was a woman who understood duty. There was no doubt that her courage matched her beauty—and he grew more aware of both with each passing day.
It was when they paused in a village with an inn, however, that he realized the depth of the Wisdom’s strength.
They stopped more for the sake of the horses than anything—Moraine didn’t like it, Nynaeve didn’t like it, and Lan himself didn’t like it, not with the fate of the world resting on the shoulders of a boy who was getting farther and farther ahead (or possible a different boy, who was lost in another direction entirely), but losing a horse to lameness would only slow them down even more. One night, it was decided. They had arrived in the town late enough in the evening that they were not losing much time, and the horses would have a good night of rest and careful care, while their riders could sleep on something other than cold dirt. The small inn only had a few rooms, most of them occupied by farmers sleeping off market-day hangovers, but there was a room with two beds for Moraine and Nynaeve to share. That was all that was necessary—Lan intended to sleep in the stable, where he could keep a watchful eye on the horses and their gear.
In the morning, after carefully currying and checking hooves on all three animals, Lan found Moraine coming down the inn stairs alone.
“Is the Wisdom still sleeping?”
The question came from Moraine, accompanied by one slightly arched brow as the only outward sign of the amusement he felt through the bond. Lan was left with his mouth half open, the same question dying on his tongue. Moraine felt the shift in his mood and her amusement vanished.
“She is not upstairs,” he said, voice flat.
Moraine shook her head, then paused. “She did not spend the night in our room,” she clarified. “The other bed was not slept in.”  Another pause. “I was quite tired,” Moraine added, “and slept more deeply than usual.” Unspoken was the Aes Sedai’s assumption that the other woman had spent the night in Lan’s company, relying on her fatigue to give them a measure of privacy from the bond. It had been a common enough arrangement in the past, during times of hard travel—one of the ways they complemented each other as companions, seeking rejuvenation in different kinds of embraces.
Also unspoken was the possibility that the Wisdom had spent the night in one of the inn’s other rooms, in the company of one of its other guests. Lan’s eyes narrowed as he glanced up the stairs, then turned to sweep over the common room, remembering the handsome young farmer who had tried to catch her eye last night. Even the innkeeper had taken an interest in such a young and pretty guest—he’d heard the title ‘Wisdom’ and paused at their table to ask if that was the same as a Wise Woman, as local healers were called.
“I’ll ask the serving girl,” Moraine said, “but we cannot delay—“
Lan was spared the need to contemplate her meaning as Nynaeve emerged from the hallway that led to the kitchens, storerooms, and back entrance, as well as the narrow staircase up to the private rooms of the innkeeper’s family. A cluster of other women surrounded her, all of them fussing and speaking over one another. One red-eyed girl held an infant, limp with sleep and drooling on her shoulder. The Wisdom shook her head at something, gesturing, then gave the young mother a reassuring smile as she stroked her fingers over the baby’s round cheek.
She still wore her woolens, creased and dusty from the day before, her long braid mussed, and when she turned towards him Lan saw dusky shadows under her large dark eyes. Nynaeve met his glance. Her hands came up to smooth a few loose tendrils back from her face, then dropped to fold firmly across her waist as her chin lifted.
“Have I kept you waiting?” she asked. Lan repressed the smile that nearly rose to his lips—he wondered if she realized the way she’d begun to mimic Moraine’s dry, cool tones. He bowed slightly instead.
“Not at all, Wisdom.”
“I hope everything is all right,” Moraine said, and Lan felt his lips twitch again at the way Nynaeve bristled.
“The innkeeper’s grandchild was ill,” she said shortly. “And their local wisdom—wise woman—has been away at one of the distant farms and couldn’t leave her patients there. But it was nothing I haven't treated before. The baby’s fever broke just before dawn.”
“Illness is always dangerous in the very young.” Moraine smiled politely. “They’re fortunate that you were here. Still, we must depart as soon as possible. Can you safely manage to ride by yourself?”
Lan didn’t need the thread of mischief in the bond to guess what the Aes Sedai was hinting at—that the Wisdom might need to ride with him, since Mandarb was the only horse strong enough to carry two for any length of time—but he could also anticipate Nynaeve’s response before she had even opened her mouth.
“I can manage perfectly well,” she snapped. And she did, at first. They ate breakfast as they rode—fresh bread, cheese, and boiled eggs, thanks to the innkeeper, who rushed out to press a bundle into the Wisdom’s hands—and made good time through the morning. Lan circled back frequently, keeping a watchful eye on Nynaeve, which earned him glares from her and suppressed amusement from Moraine. It was when the Wisdom failed to scowl at him that he knew she was fading.
He reigned Mandarb to a walk beside her mare, considering. As much as the thought of having her ride double with him appealed—and Lan had not been able to put thoughts of that out of his mind, imagining her slim form pressed to his back, her arms around his waist…or even better in front of him, where he could hold her, letting her sleep against his chest—he knew that in the event of an attack it would hamper his ability to fight, putting both women in far more danger. Instead he leaned down to her, speaking softly.
“If you are too fatigued, Wisdom, Moraine Sedai would be glad to offer Healing.”
That sparked the glare he was looking for, her chin up, one hand gripping her braid as if she imagined strangling him with it.
“I’m fine,” she sniffed. “I certainly don’t need any help from her.”
“As you like, Wisdom al’Meara.”
He felt her glower follow him as he rode forward to scout ahead.
Lan didn’t need to repeat the suggestion—he only needed to glance questioningly from the Wisdom to the Aes Sedai, cocking an eyebrow, for Nynaeve’s lips to flatten and her spine to straighten. No matter if she had been swaying with fatigue a moment before, letting her horse trail behind, she would be upright and riding briskly to catch up with Moraine. His satisfaction in his success, however, ended when it grew too dark to ride and they stopped to make camp.
Nynaeve nearly fell when she dismounted. He'd been ready, stepping forward as her knees buckled to catch her. For a moment her weight rested against him–easy to hold in the curve of one arm, slight as she was–but then she jerked away.
“I can manage, thank you,” she said crisply, and went to gather firewood with grim determination on her face.
He tied up the horses, leaving them for the moment so that he could help with the fire before Nynaeve fell asleep in it. She didn’t resist beyond a dark look when he took the flint and steel with a murmured “Permit me,” but when he looked up from the kindling it was to see her struggling with the girth of her saddle. Nynaeve’s hands were shaking, and once she had the buckle loose she paused, resting her forehead against the mare’s shoulder. Then she took a fortifying breath and pulled, trying to heave the saddle up. The horse snorted when Nynaeve’s fingers lost their grip and the saddle dropped back. Lan caught her arm, steadying her as she staggered.
“Wisdom, I will see to the horses. You should rest.”
She stiffened, glaring up at him with dark eyes—eyes that looked bruised in a face pale exhaustion. “I can look after my own horse,” she said, ignoring the evidence to the contrary.
“I’m sure you can.” He kept his voice mild, and suppressed the smile that tugged at his lips when her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. “I would never suggest otherwise.”
“You never seem to sleep,” Nynaeve muttered, turning to struggle with the cord lashing her blanket roll in place.
"One of the gifts of the warder bond." Lan busied himself with his own bedroll. Her slim fingers were trembling and he ached to simply untie the knots for her–except he knew she wouldn't thank him for interfering. More than likely she would bite his hand if he tried it. He suppressed a smile at the thought.
“I won’t have it said that I’m a dead weight.” The bitterness in the words made his eyebrows go up. It reminded him of her defiant, challenging look when she’d first caught up to them—daring him to question her skill, expecting his scorn. She’d been discomfited by his admiration. What fools did they grow in the Two Rivers, that this woman wasn’t used to being admired?
“No one could call you that,” he said.
Nynaeve snorted. “Do they have another name for orphan girls with no dowry where you come from?”
“There are no dowries for women. In the borderlands, it is the man who must provide for his bride, to offer her a home.”
She frowned. “Do women not bring property of their own?”
“Of course. Any wealth or property she has remains hers, for herself and her children, if her husband falls.” He reached over her to lift the saddle off the mare.
“A rare breed, these borderland men,” she murmered.
Lan collected their gear and slung the saddlebags over his shoulder—pretending not to see Nynaeve’s hand reaching for hers.
“We ask much of borderland women,” he said. “To swear their husbands and sons to fight against the shadow, and to be the last reserve. When the men fail, it is the women who hold.” He glanced down at her. “Our women are treasured,” he added.
He didn’t know what possessed him to say such a thing while looking down into the dark well of her eyes, but at least it prompted one of those rosy blushes he so loved. It brought out the dusting of minute freckles on her nose and cheeks. Tiny constellations in a warm sunset sky.
“Oh,” she said.
Lan separated her bedroll from the other baggage and held it out, nodding to the fire. “You’ve more than earned your rest, Wisdom,” he said. “I’ll see to the horses.”
She wanted to protest—he could almost see her lips shaping the words—but then she bit her lip, sagging ever so slightly. “All right.”
When Lan returned to the fireside Nynaeve was asleep, laying on top of her bedroll and her cloak, with nothing to cover her from the cooling night air. She had curled on her side, one arm folded under her head, the other tucked against her stomach, and she frowned in her sleep, lips pouting like a child. So young. The reminder made a knot tighten behind his breastbone.
Lan glanced up, and met Moraine’s speculative look across the fire. He could feel her curiosity, but he kept a tight leash on his emotions. She wouldn’t use the bond to rummage, just as she wouldn’t ask about anything he didn’t choose to volunteer.
He tugged at his cloak—plain brown, since he hadn’t troubled to change it after leaving the village—and let it drape over Nynaeve gently. It would smell like horse, but everything did, and it would keep her warm for the night.
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eazy-group · 4 months
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Down N Dirty Woodscraft Tips and Tricks for Using Pathfinder Bushpot Add-Ons in Your Camp
New Post has been published on https://eazycamping.net/down-n-dirty-woodscraft-tips-and-tricks-for-using-pathfinder-bushpot-add-ons-in-your-camp/
Down N Dirty Woodscraft Tips and Tricks for Using Pathfinder Bushpot Add-Ons in Your Camp
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solocampingismail · 8 months
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#SurvivalShelter, #ForestShelter, #WildernessShelter, #Bushcraft, #OutdoorSurvival, #ShelterBuilding, #WildernessSkills, #NatureSurvival, #WoodsCraft, #DIYShelter, #NatureAdventure, #SoloCamping, #WildernessLiving, #SurvivalSkills, #OutdoorWilderness.
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carbombrenee · 3 years
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Rose hips
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docdandelion · 4 years
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DIY Easter Spring 2nd Hand Wood YouTube channel Dandysoap DIY link in bio @countrycharmtracy @thecraftydiyguy #easycrafts #painting #craftsoninstagram #springcelebration #bunnycrafts #bunnydecor #woodscraft #woodscraps #sharpieart #easterbunny #eastercrafts #wirewrapping #springdecor #easterdecor #youtubechannel (at Dandelion Soap Herb Shop) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-em2bJphWS/?igshid=1rwprk581aun8
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grouseduck · 5 years
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skills2survive · 5 years
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Awesome deal.. Get it on it now if you want a custom haversack from @thehiddenwoodsmen #Repost @georgiabushcraft (@get_repost) ・・・ We are excited to announce that we have teamed up with @thehiddenwoodsmen on a custom GABC Haversack! This is a super limited run and once they are gone, they are gone! Our preorder price is $85 SHIPPED USA! Use code ‘FREESHIPPING’ Packs will be shipping in the next week or two. Head over to the site or click the link in the photo for all the details on this AWESOME pack! ......... ........... ............ .............. ............... #georgiabushcraft #bushcraft #survival #everydaycarry #thehiddenwoodsmen #campingpack #haversack #custom #camping #firecraft #woodscraft #multicam #edcorganizer #edc #outdooorsman #outdoorlife https://www.instagram.com/p/BtoGZhvn_dJ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=drapsnr3b8cr
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uglytent · 6 years
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Here ya go @skills2survive, here is my favorite knife and hat combo(s). Like you it was a hard decision, so I also chose two. My @barearmsindoorrange hat is my most comfortable and one of my favorites, but the @wazoosurvivalgear hat is quickly taking over. I’ve been a big fan of my @condortk Bushlore and love the versatility of the @gerbergear multi-tool. I will tag @h.a.s.dad and @mike.crawford72 to show theirs. Don’t forget to tag two people and pass it on. ....... ......... .. ........ ....... .......... ... .. .. ..... ........ ........ #uglytent #knives #knifeaddict #favoriteknives #favoritehat #survivalknife #Bushcraft #outdooorsman #getoutside #tagged #wildernesssurvival #woodscraft #outdoorgear https://www.instagram.com/p/BoTt34cBju1/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1hsxyv9zi3szy
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tshelburn · 3 years
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Got FOGO?! #fogocharcoal #lumpcharcoal #superpremium #charcoal #bigchunks #largecharcoal #charcoallogs #thefirstingredient #teamfogo #fogofamily #greatescapebeerworks #woodscraft #drinklocal #jjgeorgeoutdoor #kamadojoe #firesquad (at Springfield, Missouri) https://www.instagram.com/p/CM51-LRnror/?igshid=1byre411cu1jm
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bushcraftturk · 6 years
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#spooncarving #woodcarving #crookknife #woodscraft #bushcraft #wildcamping #liveauthentic #wood
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lsaoutdoor · 6 years
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Olds... #outdoors#outdoorslife#nature #naturelovers#naturelife#woods #woodsman#outdoorsman#olds #woodscraft#wild#wildlife #wilderness#bushcraft#bushcrafter #crudsweden#handmade#knives #spart4nn#instalike#followme #doğahayatı#doğadakiinsan #Repost @spart4nn (@get_repost)
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twilight-resonance · 4 years
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Tracking Practice
Each year, I go out to visit my immediate family in another state. They live far out in the middle of nowhere; in the woods and the hills along a dirt road where the sky is so dark that you can see the stars bright and clear, some half hour from the nearest town and three times that from the nearest city. The “backyard” is many acres of mostly unpathed woodland, and every year I try to spend some time walking it. It’s so rare to find a place you’re allowed to go off-trail, and I relish the practice in navigating and walking the land only by my own guidance.
Hearthsnail and I went for a walk today. Not all the way out into the woods; just to the creek that stands between the bottom of the hill and the woods on the hills behind it. We didn’t have long to walk, since the sun was going down; but I wanted to walk at least a little since we hadn’t had a chance yet. I doubt we were gone even an hour. It was little time, but we encountered plenty.
There’s a place down by the creek that’s one of the crossing-places; on the other side is a gate, crossed itself by a road made only by its form cut through the trees and impression beaten into the dirt. Evidently the animals agree that it’s one of the best crossing-places over the creek as well; we stopped there briefly and found tracks from several kinds of animals. Deer, wild pig, turkey - and housecat. All imprinted clearly and cleanly into the loose, sandy, silty soil along the bed of the river. 
The first stop - on the way out - we spent most of our time inspecting some tracks further into the riverbed rather than those on the shore. There were some deer tracks in the bank that were puzzling; there was a caving pattern on the hind part of the foot that I was having trouble reading - an extra ridge pressed into the sand behind the foot that didn’t fit with having slid or weathered that way. Initially the closest we could come up with was that the deer was turning and changing direction - but then realized that it was jumping too, and that was the cause of the depth of the ridge (and the lack of tracks coming after it). That was a satisfying realization; and, having realized it, moved on.
We went a little further down the creek - not much more. I discovered some wild alliums - probably onions - and having identified them found many, many more along that stretch of field. Then we came to a spot where the creek split and allowed passage over the near fork; watched some small fish in a deep, calm pool and poked at rocks as we do. 
There was also a deer corpse. Fresh - not the freshest I’ve seen (or smelled), but still red with blood and white with fur. All skin and bones with no flesh; the skin was turning blue-green except where it was stained red, and the body was empty and desiccated but still held together with leather-soft-hard skin that had yet to decay. We surmised, from the state of the corpse and its location, that it had spent some time underwater. Most deer we find are ones felled by coyotes; but this was wasn’t nearly torn-enough apart, and we never quite figured out what it was that killed it. Not age - it was two or three years old at most. Not something hunting it, though scavengers certainly picked at it after. Or, maybe coyotes - but if so, a small group, for the amount they left behind. 
We turned back then, as the sun was going down. We stopped back at the same crossing along the creek and spent more time with the other tracks along the bank; I challenged Thoronthol to tell me which tracks were most recent and which were oldest, and we spent some time puzzling through them. More recent than the rain a couple days ago; the sand around it was marked by gentle drops, and the tracks cut through them. The turkey tracks sometime after that, from when the river swelled after the rain; the back half of the tracks had been washed away by a stream then higher, now lower. The wild pig more recent than the turkey - they never quite overlapped, but the sand displaced by the pig crept just enough over the tip of a turkey’s claw mark to mark it as more recent. The deer before that; the deer were oldest. The weathering was subtle enough to make it hard to tell, but the track placement suggested that the creek had been higher then - higher than the turkey track marked it at. Deer, then turkey, then pig. And housecat - the cat had been by most recently, most likely this morning.
It was a good exercise. It’s not often that we find such a good spot to practice - but this was almost as perfect as you could ask for. Sand that shows the track easily but holds onto it as well; a place where several animals have come and gone, it being an easy spot to cross or to drink water; and a density of creatures that mean they have come near enough the same time that it takes some work to sort them out, even with the weather of the last few days. 
We discussed, on the way back, the difference in how we collect such information. He is more likely to notice something that “breaks” the pattern of the landscape, be it a track or an animal hiding in the brush; I’m more likely to notice that the area suggests a presence, look for it, and find it. Area search, tracking. It’s a good pair and they support each other well, and it makes nature adventures - even small ones, like this - more illuminating. 
I was glad for the tracking practice, even if not for the practice walking through the rest of the woods. Other years, it’s the practice of slipping through narrow spaces through the trees and thorny vines, up and down steep hills and over the deep clefts of streams, sneaking up on rabbits and birds and finding the deer bones in the woods - not so, this year. Not yet, likely not at all. But the practice tracking - that was good.
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clinicalherbalist · 7 years
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Ages ago, someone bent this sapling over and cut off the main trunk so that a lateral branch would become the new trunk. This is something that the tribes here did to mark trails and places on those trails. This one is right near a rock with markings on it, that overlooks the river from a cliff and is an extraordinarily nice place to see the sunrise from. It's also right by a pretty amazing stand of goldenseal. . . . . #tree #shawnee #woodscraft #medicineplace #sacredoak
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decadentenemyturtle · 3 years
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From wood and stone
Series of a lovestory of Woodscraft and King under the mountain.
Sumary: They say love should whitstand every obsatcle, but is there any hope for Thorin and (Y/n), when their love-story hadn’t even started when they met trouble.
Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader
** Book 1: **Broken heart t'was made of wood (Finished!)
Book 2: Unduying love
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(gift not mine)
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