I gently stroked Top's head, then went to the fireplace to check the fire inside; it was still burning brightly.
Since I can't check it myself, I can only rely on my previous experience to judge. There's definitely enough time now, but whether it will be successful or not will only be known after seeing the finished product after firing.
There was no use thinking about it. I used a few handfuls of clay to seal off all the entrances and exits, allowing the pottery to cool down naturally inside the kiln.
The pottery still needs to sit overnight before it can be taken out of the kiln tomorrow.
It's still early, probably around 4 o'clock, and there's still some time before it gets dark.
I went back, put my basket on my back, and took my blowgun in my hand, ready to wander around the nearby woods and try my luck.
Now that I have new cooking tools, I always feel a little eager to try them out.
The fish soup I made before didn't quite bring out the full potential of the casserole dish. If I could hunt a grouse like before, this cooking tool would be incredibly worthwhile.
Of course, just grouse would be a bit monotonous. The rainforest is full of snakes; if you could catch a suitable one for stewing, the taste... tsk tsk tsk...
After a long day at work, it's nice to relax a bit. Top and I went up the mountain behind our accommodation; I had checked it out once before.
Heading southeast from my residence, near the summit, there's a flat, open area. It's mostly covered with waist-high thatch and low shrubs.
This type of terrain is a favorite habitat for birds like pheasants. During the day, they can hide in tall grass to conceal themselves while foraging and avoid predators from the sky.
At night, they can easily fly up to the bushes and rest there overnight.
Since it wasn't far from my residence, Top and I arrived at the flat, open area in no time.
This open area is a sunny spot on the mountain ridge, and it is quite large, stretching horizontally for several kilometers from the southeast and bordering another mountain peak.
Based on my past experience, I believe there are no large prey in this terrain, because the grass here is old and hard, and without sunlight, almost no fresh grass can grow under it.
These thatch grasses are a bit of a problem; their rough, long leaves are covered with barbed serrations that can easily leave a cut on your body if you're not careful.
It is said that Lu Ban invented the saw after being cut by thatch grass.
I don't know if Lu Ban was ever cut by this thing, but when we were kids, we got cut by it a lot while herding cattle on the mountain.
Fortunately, I was wearing clothes made of python skin today, which protected most of my skin.
However, I simply cannot protect my face and neck.
The grass blades along the way brushed past, leaving behind many bloodstains even though there was no bleeding yet. Sweat dripping onto these stains sent a burning sensation through him.
This feeling was unpleasant, so I had to try to walk sideways, clearing a path for myself. Then I used my feet to trample the thatch from the roots down, flattening it to make it easier to pass.
I have a machete, but each of these clumps of thatch is over thirty centimeters in diameter.
Unlike sturdy trees, thatch can absorb most of the force of a knife when there is a lot of it, requiring several hard cuts to break it.
Doing this in the grass is not only very physically demanding, but the noise it makes can also disturb nearby prey.
It's almost dusk now, a time when wild birds are most tired after a long day of foraging.
They now mostly choose to rest on bushes near their activity area.
Their vision is almost zero at night, so once they have chosen a place to rest at dusk, they will not move their shrubs unless there is an emergency.
When I first came up to this open area, I heard the call of grouse.
This is their breeding season, and the roosters will crow loudly at dusk to declare their territory and prevent other male grouse from entering their domain.
Although their eyesight isn't great at night, their ears can still pick up some noise. Just now, it was probably the noise Top and I made walking that alerted the grouse nearby.
They had stopped calling, but I didn't see any grouse fly out, nor did I hear the sound of their wings flapping.
So they probably haven't left yet, and are still in their original positions waiting to see what happens next. It's not completely dark yet, and if they want to leave, I definitely can't stop them.
I gestured for Top to be quiet, then loaded a blowgun into my dartbox. Top had watched me hunt countless times and knew perfectly well what it meant when I drew my weapon.
In order not to miss out on today's extra meal, Top worked skillfully with me.
We were like two cautious wildcats, slowly walking on the grass, our eyes never leaving the direction where we had heard the grouse's call.
Grouse typically live in family units of four or five, or at most a dozen or so.
I'm certain we're quite close to the grouse now. There are some sparse bushes ahead, but because of their dense foliage, I can't be sure which bush they're on.
I picked up a small piece of wood from the ground and began to rhythmically tap it on the blowgun, producing a dull and hollow sound.
"Bang...bang bang bang...bang bang."
This banging sound is a common call made by grouse, usually a warning call made when other grouse trespass into their territory.
Right now, I'm in its territory, using a blowgun and a stick to mimic that warning sound. But to so arrogantly issue a warning on someone else's land is a huge provocation to the original owner.
This is something even an uncle could tolerate, but an aunt couldn't. Most likely, a young male grouse would appear at this point; not fighting the intruder would be an insult to the male animal.
Just as I expected, the male grouse fell for the trap. Hearing that another of its kind was causing trouble in its territory, it couldn't stand it! It had to be dealt with!
Regardless of the fact that it was getting late and whether its eyes could still find its way back, the grouse's temper flared up.
I heard flapping sounds coming from the direction of one to two o'clock. It seems that this hot-tempered male grouse has come to fight me.
That's good, it saves me the trouble of looking for it. Time is limited now, as long as I get the first kill, I'll go home and cook.
I needed to find a suitable ambush location, and soon my eyes fell on a small, solitary tree about the thickness of a corn stalk and no more than two or three meters tall.
I chuckled; this would be its first stop. I crouched low, concealing myself in the dense reeds, my dark blowgun aimed precisely at that short tree.
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