The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [235]
“If I didn’t see you, I would track you, but I will come and leave the drag. Whinney can’t turn very fast with it.”
They rode until they saw a likely place to make a camp, near a stream with a level area for the tent, a few trees, and, most important to Ayla, a rocky beach with stones that could be used for her ground oven.
“I might as well help set up camp, since I’m here,” Ayla said, dismounting.
“Go hunt your ptarmigan. Just tell me where you want me to start digging a hole,” Jondalar said.
Ayla paused, then nodded. The sooner the birds were killed, the sooner she could start cooking them, and they would take some time to cook, and maybe to hunt. She walked over the area and picked a spot that looked right for the ground oven. “Over here,” she said, “not too far from these stones.” She scanned the beach, deciding that she might as well pick out some nice round stones for her sling while she was there.
She signaled Wolf to come with her and backtracked along their trail, looking for the ptarmigan she had sighted. Once she started looking for the fat birds, she saw several species that resembled them. She was tempted first by the covey of gray partridges she saw pecking at the ripe seeds of ryegrass and einkorn wheat. She identified the surprisingly large number of young by their slightly less defined markings, not by their size. Though the middle-size stocky birds laid as many as twenty eggs in a clutch, they were usually subject to such heavy predation that not many survived to adulthood.
Gray partridges were also flavorful, but Ayla decided she would continue on, keeping their location in mind in case she didn’t find the ptarmigan she had a taste for. A flock, several family coveys, of smaller gregarious quails startled her as they took to wing. The rotund little birds were tasty, too, and if she had known how to use a throwing stick that could bring down several at one time, she might have tried for them.
Since she had decided to pass by the others, Ayla was glad to see the usually well camouflaged ptarmigan near the place she had seen them before. Though they still showed some patterning on their backs and wings, their predominantly white feathers made them stand out against the grayish ground and dark gold dry grass. The fat, stocky birds had already grown winter feathers on their legs, extending even to their feet for both warmth and for use as snowshoes. Though quail often traveled longer distances, both partridge and ptarmigan, the grouse that turned white in snow, normally stayed within a general area close to their birthplace, migrating only a short distance between winter and summer ranges.
In the way of that wintry world, which allowed close associations of living things whose habitats would at other times be far apart, each had its niche and both would stay on the central plains through the winter. While the partridge kept to the windblown open grassland, eating seeds and roosting at night in trees near rivers and highlands, the ptarmigan would stay in the drifting snow, burrowing out snow caves to keep warm, and living on twigs, shoots, and buds of brush, often varieties containing strong oils that were distasteful or even poisonous to other animals.
Ayla signaled Wolf to stay while she picked out two stones from her pouch and readied her sling. From Whinney’s back, she sighted on one nearly white bird and hurled the first stone. Wolf, understanding her motion as a signal, dashed for another bird at the same time. With a burst of wings and loud squawks of protest, the rest of the covey of heavy birds took to the air, their large flight muscles beating strongly. Their normal camouflaged markings on the ground made a startling change in the air when erect plumage displayed distinct patterns, making it easier for others of their kind to follow and keep together in a flock.
After the impetus of the