Now, he had a perfect ingredient, and he decided to cook it in a special way, making a dish of wilderness saltwater chicken.
He returned to the shelter and generously scooped out three full tablespoons of coarse sea salt from the birch bark salt box.
"I just replenished my salt reserves, so today, we can indulge a little."
He evenly and carefully rubbed these precious coarse sea salts all over the Thunderbird’s skin and massaged it repeatedly with his hands.
After finishing this, he placed the whole Thunderbird into an iron pot and added clear water, just enough to cover the bird’s body.
He placed the iron pot on the fireplace fire and boiled the water inside the pot to a complete boil.
Then, he conducted "three dunks and three lifts," soaking the Thunderbird in boiling water for about ten seconds.
He then lifted it completely out of the water, allowing the skin to shrink slightly in the cold air, before imrsing it back into the boiling water.
"This step allows the bird to be heated more evenly inside and out, and also makes the final skin texture smoother."
After repeating this process three tis, he completely and for the last ti put the whole Thunderbird into the boiling water.
Finally, he removed the iron pot from the heat, covered it with a lid, and began a long, hour-long low-temperature soak using the residual heat.
During the long wait for the Thunderbird to soak, he did not remain idle.
His gaze fell on the few things, the Thunderbird’s heart, liver, and gizzard.
"Waiting is long, we can start with an appetizer."
He pushed aside the burning logs in the fireplace, revealing a layer of stable-temperature, glowing red-hot charcoal beneath.
He found a slender willow branch, sharpened it, and skewered the Thunderbird’s heart, liver, and gizzard one by one, like a kebab.
Directly above the fiery charcoal, he began to slowly and patiently rotate it for roasting.
The fat-rich liver made a delightful sizzling sound as soon as it interacted with the heat radiation from the charcoal, and a rich aroma of grease began to spread throughout the shelter!
He sprinkled a few grains of precious fine salt, and within just a few minutes, this top-grade "charcoal-roasted Thunderbird mix" was cooked.
The liver was roasted to a slightly charred outer skin, yet its interior was as delicate and smooth as mousse; the heart and gizzard beca firm and chewy, with a great texture.
He devoured this skewer of appetizers in one go, greatly alleviating the hunger in his stomach, and filled with even greater anticipation for the Thunderbird in the pot, slowly maturing.
About an hour later, he estimated the ti was about right and slowly lifted the lid from the pot.
A burst of heat filled with the freshness of the at and the saltiness of sea salt hit him in the face!
He pierced the thickest part of the bird’s leg with a sharpened stick to ensure it was cooked through.
"Alright, perfect."
He retrieved the whole Thunderbird from the pot, placed it on a clean stone slab, allowing it to cool rapidly in the cold air.
A few minutes later, when the Thunderbird had cooled enough to handle, he directly ripped off a plump bird leg with his hand.
He eagerly took a big bite.
At that mont, an indescribable deliciousness exploded in his mouth!
First, there was the taut and elastic bird skin, because of rapid cooling, had just the right amount of saltiness.
Next ca the thin layer of fat beneath the skin. Finally, the tender and juicy leg at!
Thanks to perfect slow cooking at low temperature, the at was not a bit dry, but instead, it was full of rich juices.
With every chew, the savory juices, mixed with sea salt and fruit fragrance, overflowed in his mouth!
This was more than just a al; it was the highest reward for his patience and courage!
Having finished this al, Lin Yu’an had stored the fullest energy for an even more daunting challenge tomorrow.
"Good morning, everyone. It’s the eighteenth day."
Lin Yu’an’s voice resonated in the silent shelter, deep and firm.
"Yesterday, I upgraded my trap line. Today is the ti to check the results. In the snow, any traces will be amplified. I hope to gain sothing."
He put on his homade snowshoes, the large soles distributing his weight evenly.
Lin Yu’an walked out of the shelter, stepping into the silent, snow-covered white world, where only the light crunch of snowshoes on the fluffy new snow could be heard, "sasha...sasha..."
"My patrol follows a basic principle, from near to far, from low-value targets to high-value targets."
He explained as he walked, "The traps closest to the shelter are the ones I initially set for rabbits."
"They’re too close to my daily activity area, so the success rate is inherently low. Therefore, I check them first, even if I go empty-handed, it won’t affect my mindset for what’s next."
Instead of heading directly to the trap area, he walked in a small arc along the edge of the forest, using the dense spruce tree as cover, quietly approaching.
He arrived at the location of the first rabbit trap, a classic "4-shaped" trigger trap, with the lasso quietly hanging over a long-abandoned "rabbit highway."
At this mont, the entire trap was covered with a thin layer of new snow, as if untouched.
The surrounding snow was smooth and clean, with no new animal tracks.
"Nothing at all," he said calmly, with no ripple in his tone.
He stepped forward, not disturbing the scene, but used a small twig to gently brush away the snow on the trigger chanism to ensure it remained in a sensitive standby state.
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