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.
