Human Hibernation

I have read on numerous occasions that during the foul weather, Native Americans would frequently "sit tight" as a way of conserving energy and probably saving their lives. Having lived in a tepee ( that's ours) on the high plans of the west, one of the things we've noticed is when the wind howls and the temperature drops, being outside does not add all that much to a delightful nature experience.



Even for a white dude, it is easy to figure out that having a toasty fire, a few warm blankets, maybe a book, it isn't really that much of a brain exercise to just act like a sloth in the tent and forget about being brave and manly by going out in search of food. That was all well enough and good for our band of degenerates, because we had along a big supply of food, maybe a nice Merlot and, of course the opportunity to just jump in the old "skunk wagon" and head to town or to go home. Still, there were lessons learned or at least little mental educational indicators for spoiled, rich honkies.



But those youthful experiences and maybe a few outings in really cold weather has always been a reminder of another time, pre-white invasion, when the comfortable options were not always just a motor vehicle away. There are also historical accounts of First Nations folks simply hibernating for extended periods of time. They simply sat in there primitive huts and houses for weeks on end trying not to consume food or energy. It simply did not pay to go out. It was better to starve to death over a long period of time than freeze to death that day, while trying to find a couple of porkupines.

So what does this have to do with me? Well, I am beginning to think maybe this behavior is inherent. That's right, it is in my genes. I go outside the wind is howling, it is overcast, the birds are not even out because they are getting ice on their wings, the Gray Squirrels are hibernating or kicking back in their holes doing a bowl and for me, having my posterior embedded with hoary frost is not appropriate in that I have all ready lost part of my ass to aging. I don't even want to go ice fishing because Joe drove 40 miles, stepped from his car into a 30 mile an hour wind and wanted to cry. He caught one Bluegill.

To top it off my mode of local transportation is buried under the snow, so my means of getting sustenance is limited to walking to the grocery some 400 yards away (I know you are saying, "Oh, you poor baby'.")



The point is, I am finding staying in the house, fiddling, napping, maybe listening to a nice Bach piece or chatting with my girlfriend is like hibernating and feels surprisingly good. In fact, it feels natural, it feels like it is in my bones, given to me by thousands of years of genetically induced behavior, a way to survive. I remember in Alaska when we were camped close to the Beaufort Sea in Sept, one day we did not leave the tent because of intense wind, freezing rain and marauding bears and I personally accounted for 18 hours sleep and it wasn't even difficult, it was natural.

Then again maybe, it is a rationalization for the fact I am not doing much of any real value right now and I need an excuse. No, it is natural. I am saving energy. I am a natural man.