Day three.

The promised snow has arrived, and it’s quite pretty: big lazy flakes falling slowly around the cabin. I can’t see even across the river from here, let alone the rest of the lake. There’s a small group of bluejays huddled around where I’ve been tossing my slop water, no doubt picking through the tiny bits of oatmeal scrubbed from the pan.

I had difficulty getting a fire going this morning, just enough trouble in coaxing the wood into flames that I, in my sleepy haze, thought, Did the rules of fire change while I was sleeping? That didn’t seem very fair, so I cheated and used kerosene, and now the fire is roaring. I’ll show you, Universe.

I had a little adventure yesterday. I decided to go across the river to try to find any signs—tracks, droppings, a kill site, whatever—of the wolves I’d heard the night before. So the dog and I tromped off, following a set of snowmobile tracks. We were trotting along just fine until we reached the actual river channel, and the snowmobile tracks veered off out onto the lake. We continued for about another 50 yards or so until I heard a deep and disconcerting creaking beneath my feet and I became aware that I could actually feel water flowing underneath me. It was not a happy revelation. I shouted for the dog, who was wandering a few yards ahead of me, and immediately turned tail and headed back for shore.

It’s clear that the ice is still quite thick out on the lake, where pickup trucks and SUVs are still driving, but the river channel would tend to thaw earlier, what with the current. And if I go through there, I’m simply dead; the current would sweep me under the ice and I’d probably suffocate before I could freeze to death. Not a pleasant thought, and I’ll be avoiding that part of the ice from now on.

I made quite a nice dinner last night: an herb-crusted roast chicken and brown and wild rice with bacon and vegetables. I ended up making a massive batch of the rice, since when I was peppering it, the lid of the pepper came off and I ended up dumping nearly the entire thing into the pot. So I made another batch of the rice, and it was still too peppery. Today I’ll make yet another, and I’ll probably put more bacon in it, since that’s how I roll. Isn't this fascinating?

I gave myself a sponge bath last night in front of the fire, and yes, thank you, I did indeed feel like Kelly McGillis in that scene from Witness, only doughier and less Amish. I’ve also adapted quite well to the temperature here; something in my internal thermometer must have shifted, because I found myself quite comfortable barefoot and shirtless, peeing off the deck last night, and I wasn’t nearly as chilly this morning when I woke up. Is it possible that I’m turning into a tough, northwoods-y man? Probably not.