The Entire Mountain Is My Hunting Ground

In the city, when pet dogs get shots or surgery, vets put muzzles or Elizabethan collars on them to avoid being bitten.

But this was a Northeast Mountain Village in 1987. Where would you find something like that?

When a dog got an external injury, you’d just stitch it up with a needle and thread. The needle was the big kind used for sewing burlap sacks, and the thread was thick, too.

As for things like anesthesia, not only did the village clinic not have any, but even if it did, Doctor Han would never agree to use it on a dog.

So it had to be stitched without any.

But stitching it raw—jabbing a needle into the dog’s belly—was painful.

And when the dog felt pain, it would try to raise its head and bite Doctor Han. Hunting dogs have bad tempers, and Li Baoyu and Jin Xiaomei couldn’t hold it down.

After almost getting his hand bitten by Da Huang, Doctor Han got a little annoyed and muttered a few complaints.

They were asking for a favor, so Li Baoyu and Jin Xiaomei could only offer apologetic smiles from the side.

But no matter what they did, Da Huang simply wouldn’t let them stitch the wound.

Helpless, Li Baoyu had no choice but to go find Zhao Jun.

Zhao Jun, still groggy with sleep, glanced at Li Baoyu and said, "If Da Huang won’t let Elder Han stitch him, then you do it."

"But I don’t know how!" Li Baoyu declared with a baffling confidence that made Zhao Jun feel even more exasperated.

But for the dog’s sake, Zhao Jun had to climb off the *kang* bed-stove, slip on his shoes, pull on his cotton-padded jacket, and follow Li Baoyu outside.

When they arrived at Baoyu’s house, Zhao Jun greeted the helpless Jin Xiaomei and Han Shang. He picked up the nearby needle that had been sterilized over a flame, tugged the thread running through it, and walked over to the edge of the *kang*.

Just then, Li Baoyu and Jin Xiaomei came over, ready to hold Da Huang down.

"No need." Zhao Jun stopped them. To the astonishment of Li Baoyu and the others, Zhao Jun held the needle in his right hand and stroked Da Huang’s neck twice with his left.

Zhao Jun looked at Da Huang and smiled. "Da Huang, you’re not allowed to bite me, okay?"

Da Huang tilted its head back and looked at Zhao Jun.

Zhao Jun pinched the wound on Da Huang’s belly with his left hand, held the needle with his right, and plunged it in.

Da Huang let out a pained yelp, twisted its head, and snapped.

"Ah! He’s biting him!"

The one who screamed wasn’t Zhao Jun, but Han Shang, who was standing off to the side. He had watched Da Huang clamp its jaws around Zhao Jun’s arm.

At that moment, Li Baoyu and Jin Xiaomei both rushed toward the *kang*.

"It’s fine, it’s fine." But Zhao Jun was completely calm as he repeated the words.

Li Baoyu rushed over and saw that Da Huang had its mouth around Zhao Jun’s left forearm, but it wasn’t applying any pressure. It wasn’t hurting Zhao Jun, let alone injuring him in the slightest.

Seeing this, Li Baoyu and Jin Xiaomei both breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhao Jun stood perfectly still. After less than a minute, as the pain from the stitch slowly faded, Da Huang released its grip and lay back down.

The first stitch went through both layers of skin. Zhao Jun gently pulled the thread, drawing one corner of the wound together.

When the thread was taut, Zhao Jun flipped the needle in his hand and plunged it in for the second stitch from the opposite direction.

The needle entered the flesh. Da Huang thrashed, twisted its head, and bit again.

Zhao Jun remained still, letting Da Huang take his arm in its mouth.

Again, Da Huang didn’t bite down hard. It held on for a moment before letting go.

Zhao Jun pulled the thread tight again, then immediately followed with another stitch.

Da Huang turned and held his arm again...

This repeated itself. Zhao Jun placed a total of twelve stitches, and twelve times, Da Huang turned and held Zhao Jun’s forearm in its mouth.

But not once in those twelve times did Da Huang bite hard enough to hurt him.

"What a good dog," Han Shang remarked from the side. He wasn’t praising the dog for not biting, but for its almost human-like understanding.

Da Huang didn’t bite because it trusted Zhao Jun. If it had been Han Shang, things would have been very different.

With the wound stitched up, Jin Xiaomei brought over the medicinal powder she had prepared, applied it, and then wrapped the area with a clean strip of cloth.

Zhao Jun watched from the side, puzzled. He asked Li Baoyu, "Where’d we get wound medicine?"

Li Baoyu laughed. "My mom ground up some terramycin."

"That works?" Zhao Jun was amazed. It was the first time he’d ever heard of an oral medication being used as a topical treatment.

Just then, Doctor Han Shang finally made his move. He prepared a bottle of anti-inflammatory medicine, had Zhao Jun and Li Baoyu hold Da Huang down, and then inserted the needle into a vein in the dog’s hind leg.

And just like that, Da Huang was on an IV drip. For the time being, the dog would have to stay indoors, sleeping on the same *kang* as Li Baoyu and Li Ruhai.

You needed a doctor to administer the IV, but removing it didn’t require Han Shang. Zhao Jun, Li Baoyu, and Jin Xiaomei walked Han Shang to the door together.

Just as he was about to leave, Han Shang glanced around. Li Baoyu quickly pulled a wild boar’s leg from a gap beside the stove and handed it to him.

Li Baoyu said, "Brother Han, thanks for your trouble. Here’s a boar’s leg for you."

In truth, the boar leg had already been agreed upon when Li Baoyu went to get Han Shang. Otherwise, the doctor really wouldn’t have come to give Da Huang a shot.

But at that moment, Li Baoyu still made sure to give Han Shang plenty of face.

Han Shang took the boar leg, beaming. He hefted it in his hand to feel its weight, then frowned. "Ah, a cannon egg. I prefer sow meat."

At this, Han Shang looked up at Li Baoyu and said, "Brother, next time you guys bag a pig, if it’s a sow or a yellow-haired, save some extra meat for me, would you?"

Li Baoyu was speechless. ’This guy is so shameless,’ he thought.

Just then, Zhao Jun stepped forward. "Sure, Brother Han. Next time we get some meat, we’ll bring it to your house."

"Good, good," Han Shang said, nodding eagerly. He hefted the leg again, glanced at it, then looked up at the three of them and shook his head. "Cannon egg meat just isn’t very good."

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

"Go see him out!" Jin Xiaomei waved a hand at Li Baoyu, telling him to walk Han Shang out.

Once Li Baoyu was gone, Jin Xiaomei pointed at the door and said to Zhao Jun, "That Doctor Han is just like his father, a real piece of work. The nerve, asking for yellow-haired and sow meat..."

Zhao Jun just smiled without commenting.

Wild boars, when they’re first born, have light yellow fur with dark stripes. The mountain folk call them "striped piglets."

By the time winter arrives, they’ve grown to about ninety or a hundred pounds. At this stage, the dark stripes have faded, leaving only yellow fur. The mountain folk call these "yellow-haired."

Another year later, come winter, the boar will have grown to nearly two hundred pounds. By now, the yellow fur is gone, and its coat has darkened. It’s now called a "Geng Nianchen."

In its third year, the wild boar reaches sexual maturity. According to the Northeast way of speaking, a female is called a sow, while a male is called a "cannon egg."

Sows don’t get much bigger, maxing out at around three hundred pounds.

As for cannon eggs, a big one could weigh eight hundred or even a thousand pounds. But the bigger the boar, the worse the meat tastes.

Not only is the meat of a Big Cannon Egg gamey, but more importantly, the bigger the pig, the tougher and more fibrous the meat.

When it comes to tasty wild boar meat, the best is from a sow of around two hundred pounds, followed by a Little Yellow.

Just then, Li Baoyu came back inside, muttering and cursing, clearly annoyed.

Before Zhao Jun could ask, Li Baoyu blurted out the reason. "Brother, he even told me to get him a Bear’s Paw."

Zhao Jun shook his head. He knew it wasn’t a case of Li Baoyu being ungrateful and burning his bridges; it was that Han Shang was truly a piece of work.