The piping hot steaks ward their insides, dispelling fatigue and cold, providing them with powerful energy for the heavy tasks ahead.
After eating and drinking their fill, their strength restored, they returned to the job of butchering.
Old George continued his lesson: "Look here, the at on the hind leg is the largest, but it's also full of fascia; you need to run your knife along the bone."
"Imagine you're 'undressing' the bone rather than cutting the at; this way, the at you take off will be the most complete."
Under Old George's guidance, Lin Yu'an beca more skillful in his operations.
Hind leg at, shoulder at, neck at, lamb ribs... every edible part was carefully taken off, classified by part, and neatly stacked on clean sheepskin.
When it ca to the last hind leg, Old George reminded, "Lin, there's a small detail to pay attention to here."
"Don't completely remove the ram's scrotum from this piece of at; instead, let it remain 'naturally connected' to the hind leg."
"We must preserve evidence that proves the prey's gender and species legality."
"Now we have the Dall sheep's skull and horns to prove the size, but we also need this piece of gender proof for a flawless evidence chain."
Any rookie state police officer seeing this would know we've hunted a ram and not a protected ewe.
In less than an hour and a half, the entire Dall sheep was fully processed.
Under the wide-angle lens of DJI Action 2, a mountain-like heap of Dall sheep at was stacked on the snow-white skin, forming a stark visual contrast with the clean skeleton nearby.
The mountain's low temperatures and dry air served as the best natural refrigerator; a thin protective film had already ford on the surface of the at, making it the ideal ti for packing.
"We've really hit the jackpot this ti; this ram was so plump—we've carved out at least eighty pounds of good at," Stan estimated, his face beaming.
They carefully packed each chilly piece of mutton into breathable ga bags, and reasonably distributed them into the three backpacks.
Stan and Old George each received a hind leg piece, adding well over twenty pounds to each backpack.
Lin Yu'an voluntarily packed two shoulder pieces, neck at, and all scattered back at into his own backpack, also weighing nearly over thirty pounds.
The final and the most delicate task was processing the trophy sheep head that embodied honor.
This was not just a matter of cutting off the head but creating a perfect "head-shoulder specin" for professional specin-making later on.
Lin Yu'an fixed Action 2 magnetically onto a rock, recording the creative process of Old George, the veteran hunter.
Old George switched to a tiny anatomical knife, its blade thin as a cicada's wing, slicing a circular cut from the rear of the Dall sheep's scapula.
Then he patiently peeled the neck and shoulder skin of the Dall sheep as if slipping off a turtleneck sweater.
His movents were gentle and focused, as if not peeling Dall sheep skin but unveiling a rare treasure.
Eventually, when he detached the massive Dall sheep skull along with its intact shawl from the neck, a perfect trophy was born!
Old George let out a long sigh of relief, carefully wiping bloodstains off the horns with a clean cloth, then securely fixed them with parachute cord atop his backpack.
This hefty trophy alone weighed over twenty pounds.
He stepped in front of the cara, proudly displaying his trophy like a triumphant general! Only then did Lin Yu'an press the stop recording button.
At this point, all processing work was finished.
They cleaned up the site, dragging the remaining skeleton and entrails to the cliff far away from any water source.
"Let's head back, back to the mountain," Old George said softly.
This was a part of the ecological cycle and an act of giving back to the wilderness.
The three returned to where their heavy backpacks lay, picked up their gear from before, and began their journey ho.
On Old George's backpack, the massive horns reflected golden light in the afterglow of the sunset.
That was not just a trophy but a promise a man made to his wife, transcending life and death.
It was also the richest and most sacred reward this harsh land bestowed upon those who persisted!
However, the physical weight of this sacred reward was rciless.
When they again picked up their packs and started howard, the joy of victory was quickly replaced by the reality of weight.
In Lin Yu'an's backpack, aside from twenty-five kilograms of gear, there was also over thirty pounds of the finest mutton.
This was akin to carrying a frail adult on rugged mountain paths.
And although Lin Yu'an carried most of the load, both Stan and George's backpacks were also burdened by the remaining mutton, sheepskin, and gigantic horns, causing weight to spike.
Weighing down the two elders and making each step extraordinarily laborious.
The descent was far more dangerous than the climb. The heavy load made their balance unstable, and every step on the gravel slope required firm support with a hiking pole to prevent slipping.
They walked in silence, the valley resounded only with the heavy breathing of the three, the "creak" of hiking poles grinding against the ground, and the muffled sound of at jostling within the backpacks.
After walking nearly another hour, with the sky darkening, they had only traveled less than two kiloters.
George checked the map: "The closest spot where a plane can land safely is the gravel bar downstream about five kiloters away."
"That area is spacious, the ground relatively stable; we just need to hold out a bit longer to get there."
"Since the hunting area forest plane can get in, why not call Hank now to fly directly near us?" Lin Yu'an asked puzzled.
Old George knew it was ti to teach this rookie hunter the most crucial lesson.
"Lin, this is a good question and a top priority every hunter coming to Alaska must internalize."
"Rember, in Alaska, a plane is a ans of transport but must never be a hunting tool; there is a ironclad rule called no-sa-day-fly hunting."
"It ans anyone who flies by aircraft is absolutely banned from any big-ga hunting until three a.m. the next day."
"You can't use a plane for reconnaissance, positioning, or driving ga."
Lin Yu'an followed this logic, "So now that we've finished all hunting, calling a plane for transport is legal?"
"Absolutely correct! Our roles have shifted from hunters to cargo awaiting transport."
He pointed at the gravel bar on the map they were heading to: "Moreover, we chose that spot because we must first walk out of the boundary designated as a wild protection zone."
"Within the core protection area, any chanized transport, including landing planes, is strictly forbidden."
"We must use our own feet to carry ourselves and the ga beyond that invisible line."
Lin Yu'an gained a deeper understanding of Alaska's hunting culture from this detailed explanation.
"Alright, no more resting." Stan stood up, brushed off the dust.
"In order to catch Hank's damn 'air pickup' sooner, we've got to act like mules for a few more hours, let's go, guys!"
They trudged on, moving hesitantly towards the gravel bar five kiloters away.
Soon Old George glanced at the sky, gauging their current position, and made a decision.
"We can't make it today; the load's too heavy, and we won't cross that ridge before dark."
"Just ahead is the cave we sheltered from rain two days ago; let's stay there for the night."
"Great idea! Indeed a bit worn out." Stan agreed imdiately.
"That place is wind-resistant, much more comfortable than pitching a tent outside, and we can have a feast to celebrate!"
The proposal gained unanimous approval; on their way back to the cave, they collected so dry twigs and a stubby old pine root for the night's bonfire.
User Comments
0 comments from readers