My dear friends of Bushcraft UK, for I Boatnose Panbow, forest dwelling survivor mercurial! For as the wind whistles and the kestrel flies by, I have recovered from my recent bout of diarrhoea. It has taken me a more or less a week to recover and I have lost lots of weight. Fear not, BNPB will soon be back in full health. I spent today preparing cauldrons full of a recipe that I call 'heathland healthy broth'.
Unfortunately, whilst out in the wilderness I succumbed to the illness and the elements and I passed out attempting to trek back to my cabin. As I was at high altitude, I lost all signal and battery on my telephone and could not call for help. I awoke on what I believe to be the next day to a sound a know all to well - the high pitched melody of a juvenile kestrel. At this point I knew it was a matter of life and death, I would be leaving a global fan base with nobody to look up to. With that in mind I managed to pull myself to my feet, my trousers still sodden from the excrement that I had failed to hold on to, using the thorny branches of some nearby heathland. Immediately I made my way towards the fowl beast to discover it had been terminally wounded already.
Luck favours the legendary so they say.
I waited for the beast to fall victim to its attacker, before plucking and gutting it. Luckily, I had packed materials to create a fire. I managed to muster enough energy to build a small dakota fire pit, where I roasted the bird. Once cooked I savoured every bite of the beast. I don't know whether it was the energy from the food or a placebo but I had enough energy to get back to my cabin. On the way I found some doc leaves, which I used to wipe away some of the mess from around my legs, it was enough relief. Lucky my phone had enough battery for me to read the advice, otherwise I would have been left a mess in the wild.
As as a result, I have written you all a thank you poem about the horrendous events of the past week:
a week ago boat nose went
Up the heathland hill,
he wasn't well already
and in his travels he fell ill,
he posted a plea on the forum,
a plea for help and mercy
sphagnum moss was recommended
to stop him being dirty,
he took onboard the sound advice
of bear bait and cross land kelly
but without access to clean water
a storm grew inside his belly
the night was cold
he was trekking home
over the moorland bramble
he knew that not calling home for help represented a significant gamble
so that one night panbow was beaten
the weather had drained all hope
not many bushmen could survive such horror,
but boatnose was born to cope
sometime later boatnose rose,
to the sound of a squealing kestrel,
As if by magic he began to move
like a car that was filled up with petrol,
he caught and roasted the felled fowl
and gobbled it once it was done
on his way home he found some leaves
To soothe his sore bushman bum
fear not fans
boat nose is home
back in his woodland Abode
but never again will he Forage when ill
he would rather stick to the road
friends, fans, that was my amazing thank you poem. I hope you thought it was incredible!
Thanks
boatnose 'against the odds' pan bow
