The shelters of stone - Jean M. Auel [123]
They made a rather quick tour of the rest of little Valley. In the southwest, opposite the large rock shelter, was a rather spacious cave, and in the south a ledge opened in front of a small abri, which was extended into the cliff wall by a gallery cave some sixty-five feet long. To the right of the entrance of the cave, on a small natural terracette, two aurochs were carved with vigorous outlines, and the suggestion of a rhinoceros.
Ayla was quite impressed with all the natural sites in Little Valley and was quite open about showing it. Brameval and the Fourteenth Cave were proud of their home and were delighted to show it off to someone who demonstrated her appreciation. They were also getting accustomed to the wolf, especially since Ayla was careful to keep him under control. Several people encouraged the visitors, or at least Ayla, to stay for a meal.
“I would like to,” Ayla said, “but not this time. I’d love to come back, though.”
“Well, before you go, I’ll show you our weir,” Brameval said. “It’s on the way to The River.”
He led the rather large group that had gathered, including the visitors, to a permanent dammed fish trap that had been constructed in Fish Creek. The waterway that ran through the narrow valley was a salmon-spawning stream, where adult fish returned every year. By making various adaptations, the weir was an effective way to catch many of the other varieties of fish that also found the small stream tempting. But most prized were the huge salmon, up to five feet in length although four feet was more common for an adult male.
“We also make fishing nets to catch fish, especially from The River,” Brameval said.
“The people I grew up with lived near an inland sea. Sometimes they went to the mouth of the river that flowed near their cave and used nets to catch sturgeon. They were happy when they caught females because they particularly liked the roe, the tiny black fish eggs,” Ayla said.
“I’ve tasted sturgeon roe,” Brameval said, “when we visited the people who live near the Great Waters of the West. It’s good, but sturgeon don’t often come this far upstream. Salmon do, of course, and their eggs are good, too, they’re bigger and bright-colored, almost red. I prefer the fish to the eggs, though. I think salmon like red. Did you know male salmon get red when they’re swimming upstream? I’m not as familiar with sturgeon. I understand they can get quite big.”
“Jondalar caught one of the biggest sturgeon I’ve ever seen. I think it was longer than two of him,” Ayla said, turning to smile at the tall man, and with a twinkle in her eye she added, “It gave him quite a ride.”
“Unless you are planning to stay here, I think Jondalar will have to tell that story later,” Joharran interjected.
“Yes, later,” Jondalar said. The story was a little embarrassing, and he wasn’t eager to tell it, anyway.
They continued talking about fishing as they walked together back toward The River. “When people like to fish by themselves, they often use a gorge. You know how it works, don’t you?” Brameval asked. “You take a small piece of wood, sharpen it at both ends, and tie a fine cord in the middle,” he was eagerly explaining, using his hands as he talked. “I usually attach a float and tie the other end to a pole. Fasten an earthworm around the gorge and dangle it in the water, then watch it. When you see a nibble, with luck, a quick jerk will pull the gorge so that it’s horizontal across the throat or mouth with the two points stuck in either side. Even youngsters can get quite good.”
Jondalar was smiling. “I know. You taught me when I was young,” he said, then looked at Ayla. “Don’t get Brameval started talking about fishing.” The leader looked slightly embarrassed. “Ayla fishes, too, Brameval.” The man smiled at the woman. “She can catch fish with her bare hands.”
“Yes, she told me,” Brameval said. “It must be difficult.”
“It takes a lot of