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That night around ten or eleven we heard the most blood curdling shrieking cat scream, which ricocheted off the canyon walls. Then we heard hooves running on the stones down by the lake shore. My theory: it was a mountain lion terrifying the deer away from that oatmeal. The scream was from right in that vicinity and not that far away. Now that was grand audio.
It was a hell of a week. We didn't know what we were doing. We had no stove, no water purifier, no shovel. Of course in those days these things were still not that prevalent, not easy to find and primitive. We had to boil water for everything, for purification to drink, for meals, to wash dishes - to clean up. It was work, work, work. I think after we got set up I did a little fishing with a spoon and spinning reel. A big blue Heron had been sitting in a tree. He now circled me squawking quite indignantly telling me to get out his fish territory. He then flew away in disgust and I didn't see him again.
Now I had to learn how to throw a rope over a tree branch fairly high and at a distance from the trunk, to hang our food so that the bears could not get it. We had seen no traces of bears so I wouldn't have taken it seriously, but Sophia was insistent. Have to tie a rock to the end of a rope. The rock can't be too heavy which is hard to throw, but heavy enough to drag the rope over the branch, even if it is sticky with sap.
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