Day Forty-Seven: Building a Shelter

I had originally planned to go out for a walk today.

But when I woke up in the morning, I found the wind had picked up outside, and the weather had begun to change. Clouds were flying across the sky—clear signs that rain was coming again.

My plan had been to explore some nearby, uncharted area, but with this sudden shift in weather, and the fact that the little wild boars’ shelter was still unfinished, I knew that if it rained, they would never survive a night of cold and wet. So I had no choice but to put my plans on hold.

There was no shortage of work to do in the little courtyard anyway, so I decided to make the most of the dry spell and prepare before the rain arrived.

I had to build a shelter for the piglets, but I wanted to use as few materials as possible—after all, these were hard-won supplies I had painstakingly salvaged from the ship.

Now that I had an axe, I could easily fell a few small trees, even chop down a young coconut palm if needed.

I needed to build a shelter that wouldn’t leak, one that could shield them from wind and keep them warm. So I set out, axe in hand.

I planned to bring back a few small trees to serve as the main support beams.

The axe was truly sharp, and with its weight behind each swing, it took only three chops to bring down a sapling.

Before long, and with little effort, I had gathered six small trees.

It’s funny to think of it now, but I did something incredibly foolish in the process—I made a major mistake!

I’d mentioned before that I needed some coconut leaves, so when I saw a towering coconut tree, I was tempted. I raised my axe and hacked at the trunk with all my might—and nearly died for it!

Several coconuts came crashing down, barely missing me—they almost killed me!

Perhaps fate took pity on my miserable situation, because all the coconuts landed around me, not on me.

Still, the fright left me shaken; I almost dropped the axe from my hand, and I hadn’t even realized the danger until after the fact. When the coconuts fell, I hadn’t even thought to shield my head.

If one had landed on me—and someone discovered the aftermath later—I’d surely have won the year’s prize for the most spectacularly foolish way to die.

After that, I chose to cut down a young coconut tree without any fruit. Coconut leaves make the best roofing material.

The reason I chopped it down instead of climbing was because I have a lingering fear of climbing coconut trees. I still remember, when I first arrived here, falling from a tree while trying to gather leaves for my shelter’s roof.

At the time, I thought I’d broken a bone and was doomed—an injury can be fatal for someone barely surviving.

Fortunately, after a day’s rest, I recovered; it must have been just a bruise. Since then, unless absolutely necessary, I’ve had a strong aversion to climbing coconut trees.

Especially now that I have this axe, there’s no reason to waste time climbing trees anymore.

The leaves of the young coconut trees aren’t very large, but they’re adequate. I cut down three in total.

After cleaning off the smaller branches and harvesting the coconuts, I carried all the materials back in several trips.

Then, the construction of the piglets’ shelter began.

I divided four of the small trees evenly in two. Each, originally three to four meters long, was sawed in half.

At the four corners of the rectangle I’d marked on the ground, I drove in the freshly cut saplings.

The four posts weren’t exactly the same length, but it didn’t matter; the varying depth of the holes I’d dug allowed me to make the front and back pairs the same height.

Of course, the final arrangement left the front row slightly higher than the back, which was intentional. This way, when I made the roof, I could give it a gentle slope.

A sloped roof drains water more efficiently, and when I layered the leaves, I could overlap them like shingles.

Once the four corner posts were in place, I used vines to lash the remaining two saplings horizontally across the front and back.

Time passed as I worked up a sweat.

Now, I was laying the roof, using some spare branches for added support, slanting them across the horizontal beams. First, I spread a layer of coconut leaves, then covered it with fishing net, secured everything with more vines, and finally added another layer of leaves.

With this, the shelter would be absolutely rainproof.

Exhaling, I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked at the new shelter with satisfaction.

It was far better than my previous makeshift hut—sturdier and more sensible in design.

The shelter stood on the highest ground in the pigpen, but to guard against heavy rain, I also dug a drainage channel around the pen.

Finally, I gathered a huge pile of grass and spread it inside the shelter, so that the two little pigs wouldn’t trample the ground into mud on rainy days.

Not long after I finished, I lit a cigarette and took a few sips of my drink. The rain began—a gentle, scattered drizzle.

I was about to head inside to avoid the rain when I suddenly remembered something important: I hadn’t built any cover for the potato seedlings or the nameless sprouts.

Luckily, the rain hadn’t intensified yet.

I rushed to the vegetable patch. The two piglets, showing good sense, had already taken shelter in their new home, so I didn’t need to worry about them.

Dusk was falling, and I knew a downpour was imminent. I hurried to dig a wide, shallow drainage trench around the garden.

Though these were only seedlings, to me they represented hope—the promise of a future.

Quickly, I stuck collected branches into the bare patches between the seedlings, being careful to avoid disturbing them.

Then, I fetched a large, tattered fishing net from beside the treehouse.

I didn’t drape it over the seedlings directly. Instead, I folded it over itself three times, reducing the size of the mesh, and then spread it over the patch.

With the branches supporting the net, it wouldn’t harm the young plants, and it would shield them from the impact of raindrops.

I’ve seen how wild the rains here can get—the drops as large as soybeans, stinging even my face, let alone these tender shoots.

Even with the net in place, I was still uneasy. So I fastened the four corners with branches, just to be sure.

It was just then that the rain came down in torrents. Before I could dash back inside, I was soaked to the skin.

It was miserable. I had no wish to relive the agony of illness, so I hurried to the lower fire pit, stripped off my wet clothes, dried myself, and changed into a fresh set.

As I changed, I noticed my skin had grown bronze, and muscles now stood out on my arms.

Listening to the howling wind and pounding rain outside, I began to contemplate the days ahead.