The next day was brilliant sunshine again and no visible threat of another storm. Em and John had a quick breakfast of coconuts and peanuts. Em had taken to marking lines with a sharp shell on one of the closest palms to designate the days they had been on the island. They had already been there for several days; shortly it would be a week. Could the rescuers still be searching for them? As yet, they hadn't seen any signs of a plane or ship. Another day or two and their original week's vacation would have been coming to an end. They tried not to focus on the people and things left behind in their lives. Living day to day was enough of a challenge for now.
John had another idea for food and Em followed him as he carried the crate they had found down the beach towards where the water basin rock was. He explained to Em his plan as they walked.
"If we take this crate, with its one open end, and position it with a stick holding it up, we might just be able to trap a bird inside," John said.
"How are you going to get a bird to go under the crate?" Em asked.
"Using some of our discarded crab shells as bait," John claimed.
"Yeah, but they'll just fly away when you try to knock the box down on them," Em stated.
"We're going to use a long vine to pull the support stick out of the way, making the box drop down on them," John explained.
"Sounds possible," Em agreed.
"Run back to camp and get me a sharpened length of bamboo and some of the old crab shells please," John asked. "Get some with crab meat still on it."
"Okay," Em said and took off.
While she was gone John used one of the knives to whittle and cut a quarter sized hole in the bottom of the wooden crate. He then found a good foot long thin piece of driftwood to use for the support. With one end of the support in the sand and the other wedged under the lid of the wooden box, he had the makings of a trap. He scavenged for the vine for quite a while until he found a suitable one, not too thick and long enough to let them hide in the nearby bushes. By then Em was back. John positioned the crab shells under the box and they hid in the bushes to wait.
"What's this for?" Em asked, still holding the pointed bamboo stick.
"Well, did you see that hole I cut in the bottom of the box?"
"Yeah. Do you want to be able to see what type of bird it is?" Em questioned.
"Not exactly. I think if I had to reach in and grab the bird while trying to lift the box, they would not only bite me but have a chance to escape. I plan to finish them off through that hole with the stick you just brought," John concluded.
"Oh, gross! You're going to stab them to death?"
"You have a better idea, miss smarty pants," John mused smiling.
"No, but don't expect me to do the killing," Em emphatically claimed.
"I won't, just the plucking," John stated with a chuckle.
"What? You expect me to pluck out the feathers," Em extolled, making a funny face.
"Someone's got to do it for us to eat them," John pronounced.
"You can do that part too," Em said jokingly.
"Okay, you can cut the head and feet off and clean the guts out," John chided but with a smile.
"Ewww ... gross ... no, okay, I'll do the plucking," Em agreed with a funny face again but then laughed with him.
They waited for nearly an hour before they spotted any birds. John had picked the spot near the water basin rock thinking that some birds would smartly return here to drink. He was right about that and they squawked and complained when they found the top of the rock covered by the cage. For spite, as Em and John watched, some of the birds would sit on top of the cage and shit between the supports, fouling the water anyway.
"We need to cover the cage with plastic," John told Em.
"Yeah, but how with the rain water get in then."
"We'll need to remove it again just before each storm," John professed.
"We better remember," Em said.
"You're right. It could be the one thing that saves our lives," John agreed seriously.
Somewhat bored, Em was just starting to run her hand menacingly up John's leg when suddenly two gulls swooped down ten feet from the trap. They looked around questioningly and then approached the wooden box on foot. They started to cackle at each other as they neared the potential meal. One rushed in quickly and grabbed a shell before John could react. The other screamed at the first as if the traitor had taken off with his meal. The second walked right under the box to grab one of the two remaining crab shells. John yanked the vine hard and the stick ripped free from supporting the box. It dropped down on the poor unsuspecting bird before he had a chance to flee.
"Yeah," John shouted and jumped in the air, pumping his fist.
Em also cheered, "Way to go, John."
They ran to the box and looked into the hole. The bewildered bird was gnawing on the small hole, trying to figure a way out. John raised the sharpened stick.
"John, wait," Em yelled.
"What?" John asked.
"I don't want to watch this," Em said.
"Okay, you run back to camp and get a fire started and some water boiling for roots."
"Yeah," Em said and took off at a dead run without complaint.
She briefly glanced back over her shoulder when she was fifty yards down the beach but he was still just watching her run. She kept going and disappeared up into the rocks and palms toward camp.
John didn't relish the idea of killing anything either but this was survival and they had little choice. They couldn't live on fish and shellfish alone. An occasional bird would help them survive.
He glanced down at the hole and waited for a good shot at the back of the bird. When he had one, he thrust the sharpened end down hard into the hole. He felt it hit and penetrate. The bird squawked and thrashed for a few moments but then was still. John pushed a little hard down but the bird didn't move. He figured it was dead and slowly lifted the box from the side. He moved tentatively in case the bird was still alive but soon discovered his method had worked quite well. The spiked stake had pierced the back of the bird and killed it.
John didn't think Em wanted to watch the cleaning part either, so he walked down to the water's edge. Using his knife, he severed the head and legs. He then cleaned the bird inside and washed everything off in the sea. He decided to save her the worst of the plucking too and cleaned most of the feathers from the bird. When he was done it looked more like an odd white chicken from the supermarket than the recent live gull. John grabbed the box after putting everything in it from the trap and headed back to camp. When he got there Em was busy cutting the roots and dropping them into the hot water.
"See here," John said approaching and holding up the bird.
"Wow, that looks better," Em said. "I thought you said I had to pluck it?"
"I did but I decided to do most of it for you. It still needs a little more trimming."
"Okay, put it down here," Em said referring to a large flat rock she got from somewhere.
John did and watched her work as he stowed the crate and its contents. He busied himself with repairs to the hut and finally finished the door he had been meaning to get to. By mid-afternoon the meal was ready. They had cooked the gull over the fire on a spit made of bamboo. Em had turned it slowly to evenly roast it. The aroma actually appealed to them and made their stomachs growl.
As they sat eating, they were thankful for something different to taste. Surprisingly to Em, the gull didn't taste all that bad. It wasn't exactly chicken but if you closed your eyes you would have thought it was something relatively close. Along with strips of coconut and plenty of roots, they had one of the best meals they'd eaten so far. That was good too because it would have to last them the balance of the day. Without refrigeration they were obligated to stuff themselves on occasions like this where there was plenty.
Despite eating okay their diet of fish and shellfish, roots, and now bird was still on the low calorie side. The coconut helped add fat and the peanuts too but they were small in volume and both John and Em were showing signs already of weight loss. It worried John that they needed to find more things to supplement their diet and especially some starches and fats. Otherwise they might continue to lose weight and become weak and susceptible to disease.
After they had cleaned up, they went for a swim. Their hands were all greasy from using them to eat the bird. With a little soap they managed to clean up nicely and Em took the opportunity to wash her hair. They bathed nude as usual and when John finished, he sat on a beach towel near the water's edge and watched Em. Her breasts jiggled invitingly as she shampooed her long blonde hair. John could feel his cock stirring as he watched her rinse off.
John handed her one of the four towels they had from different people's suitcases as she emerged. She stood before him dripping water in the sand and using the towel to dry her beautiful hair. He had an even better view of her quivering breasts now as he leaned back and watched. Em noticed the smile on his face and the fullness of his cock and commented.
"Like what you see, big boy?"
"You have no idea," John retorted.
