CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.

Trapping—The Fur-Bearing Animals—Value of different Furs—The Trapper’s Start into the Forest—How to make a Marten Trap—Steel Traps for Wolves and Foxes—The Wolverine—The Way he gets a Living—His Destructiveness and Persecution of the Trapper—His Cunning—His Behaviour when caught in a Trap—La Ronde’s Stories of the Carcajou—The Trapper’s Life—The Vast Forest in Winter—Sleeping Out—The Walk—Indians and Half-breeds—Their Instinct in the Woods—The Wolverine Demolishes our Traps—Attempts to Poison him—Treemiss’s Arrival—He relates his Adventures—A Scrimmage in the Dark—The Giant Tamboot—His Fight with Atahk-akoohp—Prowess of Tamboot—Decide to send our Men to Red River for Supplies—Delays.

Trapping—The Fur-Bearing Animals—Value of different Furs—The Trapper’s Start into the Forest—How to make a Marten Trap—Steel Traps for Wolves and Foxes—The Wolverine—The Way he gets a Living—His Destructiveness and Persecution of the Trapper—His Cunning—His Behaviour when caught in a Trap—La Ronde’s Stories of the Carcajou—The Trapper’s Life—The Vast Forest in Winter—Sleeping Out—The Walk—Indians and Half-breeds—Their Instinct in the Woods—The Wolverine Demolishes our Traps—Attempts to Poison him—Treemiss’s Arrival—He relates his Adventures—A Scrimmage in the Dark—The Giant Tamboot—His Fight with Atahk-akoohp—Prowess of Tamboot—Decide to send our Men to Red River for Supplies—Delays.

Thesupply of meat which we had obtained being sufficient for some time, we stored it up on the platform out of doors, to be preserved by the frost, and turned our attention to trapping in the woods. Our attempts had hitherto been confined to setting a few small steel traps round the lake, and placing poisoned baits for the wolves. But we were now desirous to fly at higher game, and, far in the depths of the vast pine forest, seek trophies sure to be gratefully received when presented to dear friends of the fair sex at home. The animals which furnish the valuable furs from this region are the silver and cross foxes, the fisher, marten, otter, mink, and lynx—whilst amongst those of less worth are the wolverine, beaver, ermine, and musk-rat.The beaver was formerly found in great numbers, and its peltry highly prized; but from the assiduity with which it was hunted, it has now become comparatively scarce; and from the substitution of silk for beaver skin in the manufacture of hats, the latter has become almost worthless. Of all furs, with the single exception of the sea-otter, which is found only on the Pacific coast, the silver fox commands the highest price. The fur of the silver fox is of a beautiful grey; the white hairs, which predominate, being tipped with black, and mixed with others of pure black. A well-matched pair of silver fox skins are worth from £80 to £100. The cross foxes, so called from the dark stripe down the back, with a cross over the shoulders like that on a donkey, vary in every degree between the silver and the common red fox; and the value of their skins varies in the same ratio. After the best cross foxes come the fisher, the marten, and the mink. These three are all animals of the pole-cat tribe, and both in size and value may be classed in the order in which they have been mentioned. The skin of a fisher fetches from sixteen shillings to thirty shillings; a marten, fifteen shillings to twenty-three shillings; and a mink, from ten shillings to fifteen shillings. The otter, which is less common than the two last named, commands a price of one shilling an inch, measured from the head to the tip of the tail. The ermine is exceedingly common in the forests of the North-West, and is a nuisance to the trapper, destroying the baits set for the marten and fisher. It is generally considered of too little value to be the object of thetrapper’s pursuit. The black bear is also occasionally discovered in his winter’s hole, and his skin is worth about forty shillings. The lynx is by no means uncommon, and generally taken by snares of hide. When caught, he remains passive and helpless, and is easily knocked on the head by the hunter. The other denizens of the forests are the moose, and smaller game, such as the common wood partridge, or willow grouse, the pine partridge, the rabbit, and the squirrel. By far the most numerous of the more valuable fur animals in this region are the marten and the mink, and to the capture of the former of these two—the sable of English furriers—the exertions of the trapper are principally directed. At the beginning of November, when the animals have got their winter coats, and fur is “in season,” the trapper prepares his pack, which he makes in the following manner:—Folding his blanket double, he places in it a lump of pemmican, sufficient for five or six days’ consumption, a tin kettle and cup, and, if he is rich, some steel traps, and a little tea and salt. The blanket is then tied at the four corners, and slung on the back by a band across the chest. A gun and ammunition, axe, knife, and fire-bag, complete his equipment. Tying on a pair of snow-shoes, he starts alone into the gloomy woods—trudging silently forward—for the hunter or trapper can never lighten the solitude of his journey by whistling or a song. His keen eye scans every mark upon the snow for the tracks he seeks. When he observes the footprints of marten or fisher, he unslings his pack, and sets to work to construct a“dead fall,” or wooden trap, after the following manner. Having cut down a number of saplings, these are divided into stakes of about a yard in length, which are driven into the ground so as to form a palisade, in the shape of half an oval, cut transversely. Across the entrance to this little enclosure, which is of a length to admit about two-thirds of the animal’s body, and too narrow to admit of its fairly entering in and turning round, a short log is laid. A tree of considerable size is next felled, denuded of its branches, and so laid that it rests upon the log at the entrance in a parallel direction. The bait, which is generally a bit of tough dried meat, or a piece of a partridge or squirrel, is placed on the point of a short stick. This is projected horizontally into the enclosure, and on the external end of it rests another short stick, placed perpendicularly, which supports the large tree laid across the entrance. The top of the trap is then covered in with bark and branches, so that the only means of access to the bait is by the opening between the propped-up tree and the log beneath. When the bait is seized, the tree falls down upon the animal and crushes him to death. An expert trapper will make forty or fifty traps in a single day.

(Larger)A MARTEN TRAP.(Seepage 102.)

(Larger)

A MARTEN TRAP.

A MARTEN TRAP.

(Seepage 102.)

(Seepage 102.)

The steel traps resemble our ordinary rat-traps, but have no teeth, and the springs are double. In the large traps used for beavers, foxes, and wolves, these have to be made so powerful that it requires all the force of a strong man to set them. They are placed in the snow, and carefully covered over; fragments of meat are scattered about, and the place smoothed down, so as to leave no trace. To the trap is attached a chain, with a ring at the free extremity, through which a stout stake is passed, and left otherwise unattached. When an animal is caught—generally by the leg, as he digs in the snow for the hidden morsels—he carries off the trap for a short distance, but is soon brought up by the stake getting entangled across the trees and fallen timber, and is rarely able to travel any great distance before being discovered by the trapper.

The fur-hunter’s greatest enemy is the North American glutton, or, as he is commonly called, the wolverine or carcajou. This curious animal is rather larger than an English fox, with a long body, stoutly and compactly made, mounted on exceedingly short legs of great strength. His broad feet are armed with powerful claws, and his track in the snow is as large as the print of a man’s fist. The shape of his head, and his hairy coat, give him very much the appearance of a shaggy brown dog.

During the winter months he obtains a livelihood by availing himself of the labours of the trapper, and such serious injury does he inflict, that he has received from the Indians the name of Kekwaharkess, or “The Evil One.” With untiring perseverance he hunts day and night for the trail of man, and when it is found follows it unerringly. When he comes to a lake, where the track is generally drifted over, he continues his untiring gallop round its borders, to discover the point at which it again enters the woods,and again follows it until he arrives at one of the wooden traps. Avoiding the door, he speedily tears open an entrance at the back, and seizes the bait with impunity; or if the trap contains an animal, he drags it out, and, with wanton malevolence, mauls it and hides it at some distance in the underwood, or at the top of some lofty pine. Occasionally, when hard pressed by hunger, he devours it. In this manner he demolishes the whole series of traps, and when once a wolverine has established himself on a trapping-walk, the hunter’s only chance for success is to change ground, and build a fresh lot of traps, trusting to secure a few furs before the new path is found out by his industrious enemy.

Strange stories are related by the trappers of the extraordinary cunning of this animal, which they believe to possess a wisdom almost human. He is never caught by the ordinary “dead fall.” Occasionally one is poisoned, or caught in a steel trap; but his strength is so great, that many traps strong enough to hold securely a large wolf will not retain the wolverine. When caught in this way, he does not, like the fox and the mink, proceed to amputate the limb, but, assisting to carry the trap with his mouth, makes all haste to reach a lake or river, where he can hasten forward at speed, unobstructed by trees and fallen wood. After travelling far enough to be tolerably safe from pursuit for a time, he devotes himself to the extrication of the imprisoned limb, in which he not unfrequently succeeds. The wolverine is also sometimes killed by a gun, placed bearing on abait, to which is attached a string communicating with the trigger. La Ronde assured us most solemnly that on several occasions the carcajou had been far too cunning for him, first approaching the gun and gnawing in two the cord communicating with the trigger, and then securely devouring the bait.

In one instance, when every device to deceive his persecutor had been at once seen through, and utterly futile, he adopted the plan of placing the gun in a tree, with the muzzle pointing vertically downwards upon the bait. This was suspended from a branch, at such a height that the animal could not reach it without jumping. The gun was fastened high up in the tree, completely screened from view by the branches. Now, the wolverine is an animal troubled with exceeding curiosity. He investigates everything; an old moccasin thrown aside in the bushes, or a knife lost in the snow, are ferreted out and examined, and anything suspended almost out of reach generally offers an irresistible temptation. But in the case related by La Ronde the carcajou restrained his curiosity and hunger for the time, climbed the tree, cut the cords which bound the gun, which thus tumbled harmless to the ground, and then, descending, secured the bait without danger. Poison and all kinds of traps having already failed, La Ronde was fairly beaten and driven off the ground.

For the truth of this particular story we, of course, do not pretend to vouch, but would merely observe that our own subsequent experience fully proved the wolverine to be an animal of wonderful sagacityand resource; and that, supposing the gun to have been set, and afterwards found cut down as related, there is little doubt that La Ronde interpreted the mode of procedure with perfect correctness. An Indian or half-breed reads the signs left behind as easily and truly as if he had been present and witnessed the whole transaction. In other instances, where we have had ample opportunities of judging, we never detected a mistake in their reading of the language of tracks—marks left printed on that book the hunter reads so well, the face of Nature.

Until nearly the end of December we employed ourselves by accompanying La Ronde on his trapping expeditions. We thus could distinguish the track of every animal found in the forest, and learnt much of their habits and peculiarities. Cheadle was especially fascinated by this branch of the hunter’s craft, and pursued it with such diligence and success, that he was very soon able to make a trap and set it almost as quickly and skilfully as his accomplished preceptor, La Ronde. There is something strangely attractive in the life, in spite of the hardships and fatigues which attend it. The long, laborious march, loaded with a heavy pack, and cumbered with a quantity of thick clothing, through snow and woods beset with fallen timber and underwood, is fatiguing enough. The only change is the work of making the traps, or the rest at night in camp. Provisions usually fall short, and the trapper subsists, in great measure, upon the flesh of the animals captured to obtain the fur. But, on the other hand, the grandbeauty of the forest, whose pines, some of which tower up above 200 feet in height, are decked and wreathed with snow, and where no sound is heard, except the occasional chirrup of a squirrel, or the explosions of trees cracking with intense frost, excites admiration and stimulates curiosity. The intense stillness and solitude, the travelling day after day through endless woods without meeting a sign of man, and rarelyseeinga living creature, strikes very strangely on the mind at first. The half-breed trapper delights in wandering alone in the forest; but Cheadle, who tried the experiment for two days, found the silence and loneliness so oppressive as to be quite unbearable.

The interest in the pursuit was constantly kept up by the observation of tracks, the interpretation of their varied stories, and the account of the different habits of the animals as related by our companion. There is also no small amount of excitement in visiting the traps previously made, to see whether they contain the looked-for prize, or whether all the fruits of hard labour have been destroyed by the vicious wolverine.

At night, lying on a soft, elastic couch of pine boughs, at his feet a roaring fire of great trees heaped high, from which rises an enormous column of smoke and steam from the melted snow, the trapper, rolled up in his blanket, sleeps in peace. Sometimes, however, when the cold is very intense, or the wind blows strongly, a single blanket is but poor protection. The huge fire is inadequate to prevent the freezing of one extremity, while it scorches the other, and sleep is impossible, or, if obtained, quickly broken by an aching cold in every limb as the fire burns low. On thesewinter nights the Northern Lights were often very beautiful. Once or twice we observed them in the form of a complete arch, like a rainbow of roseate hues, from which the changing, fitful gleams streamed up to meet at the zenith.

After we had been out a day or two, our provisions generally came to an end, and we lived on partridges and the animals we trapped. As soon as the skins of the martens and fishers were removed, their bodies were stuck on the end of a stick, and put to roast before the fire, looking like so many skewered cats. These animals not only smell uncommonly like a ferret, but their flesh is of an intensely strong and disgusting flavour, exactly corresponding to the odour, so that a very strong stomach and good appetite is required to face such a meal. The trapper’s camp in the woods is always attended by the little blue and white magpie, who, perched on a bough close by, waits for his portion of scraps from the meal. These birds invariably “turn up” immediately after camp is made, and are so tame and bold that they will even steal the meat out of the cooking-pot standing by the fire.

The snow was at this time not more than eight inches deep, and we did not as yet use snow-shoes in the woods, where the brushwood and fallen timber rendered them somewhat awkward encumbrances. But the walking was consequently very fatiguing, and we reached home, after five or six days’ absence, invariably very much wearied and jaded. On these excursions we were much struck, amongst other things, with the great difference between the walk ofan Indian or half-breed and our own. We had before observed that, when apparently sauntering quietly along, they went past us with the greatest ease, even when we flattered ourselves we were going at a very respectable pace. This was now, in a great measure, explained. In walking in the snow, in Indian file, we observed La Ronde’s great length of stride; and Cheadle, in particular, who prided himself upon his walking powers, was much chagrined to find that he could not tread in La Ronde’s footsteps without springing from one to the next. Afterwards he discovered that his longest stride was only just equal to that of the little Misquapamayoo!

The superiority of the Indian in this respect doubtless results from the habitual use of moccasins, which allow full play to the elastic bend of the foot. This is impeded by the stiff sole of an ordinary boot. The muscles of an Indian’s foot are so developed, that it appears plump and chubby as that of a child. Misquapamayoo continually derided the scraggy appearance of our pedal extremities, and declared there must be something very faulty in their original construction.

The unerring fidelity with which our guide followed a straight course in one direction in the dense forest, where no landmarks could be seen, in days when the sun was not visible, nor a breath of air stirring, seemed to us almost incomprehensible. La Ronde was unable to explain the power which he possessed, and considered it as quite a natural faculty. Cheadle, on the other hand, found it quite impossibleto preserve a straight course, and invariably began to describe a circle, by bearing continually towards the left; and this weakness was quite incomprehensible to La Ronde, who looked upon it as the most arrant stupidity.

Hitherto no wolverine had annoyed us, and we succeeded in accumulating a nice collection of furs. But at last, when starting to visit our walk, we observed the tracks of one of very large size, which had followed our trail, and La Ronde at once declared, “C’est fini, monsieur; il a cassé toutes notres etrappes, vous allez voir;” and sure enough, as we came to each in succession, we found it broken open at the back, the bait taken, and, where an animal had been caught, it was carried off. Throughout the whole line every one had been demolished, and we discovered the tails of no less than ten martens, the bodies of which had apparently been devoured by the hungry and successful carcajou.

We had on a former occasion suspended small poisoned baits, wrapped in old moccasins or other covering, on the bushes at different points. One of these the wolverine had pulled down, unwrapped it, and bitten the bait in two. Terrified at the discovery that it was poisoned, he had rushed away at full speed from the dangerous temptation. It was useless to set the traps again, and we thereupon returned home disconsolate, La Ronde cursing, with all his might, “le sacré carcajou.”

One day the crows, which always announced the presence of any one on the lake by a tremendouscawing, gave their usual signal of an arrival. Going out on to the lake, we saw several sleighs advancing across it, the bells on the harness jingling merrily in the frosty air, as the dogs galloped along. Our visitors proved to be Treemiss and a party from the Fort, on a trading expedition amongst the Wood Crees.

Treemiss had met with various adventures since we had last seen him, and in one instance was in some danger of losing his life. Atahk-akoohp, the hunter, came one evening, with several others, into his hut, all half drunk, and importuned him to trade for furs. Vexed by Treemiss’s refusal to do so, he threw a marten-skin violently into his face. Irritated by the insult, Treemiss struck him with his fist. In an instant all was uproar and confusion; knives flashed out, the candle was kicked over and extinguished, and all were groping and stabbing at Treemiss in the dark. Summarily upsetting an Indian who opposed his passage, he made for his gun, which lay near the door, seized it, and made good his escape outside, not, however, before receiving several slight cuts and stabs through his clothes.

He waited, gun in hand, ready for his assailants, listening with anxiety to a terrible commotion which was going on inside. Atahk-akoohp, the aggressor, a man of lofty stature and powerful build, he knew to be savage in the extreme when aroused. But he had a friend within. He had shown much kindness to a half-breed named Tamboot, a man of still more gigantic build and strength than Atahk-akoohp, andthis fellow now stepped forth in his might as the champion of his friend. Seizing the huge form of Atahk-akoohp, he raised him in his arms like a child, and dashed him on the floor with such violence, that he lay almost senseless, and was so much injured that for above a week afterwards he was unable to leave his bed; then, declaring he would serve each in turn in the same manner, if they offered to lay a hand on his benefactor, he made the rest sullenly retire. Tamboot had previously killed two of his enemies by sheer exertion of force, without using a weapon; and his reputation for courage and strength stood so high, that none dared to interfere, and thus peace was once more restored.

Our stock of flour and tea having by this time become exceedingly low, and as but a small quantity of the latter only could be obtained at Carlton, we decided to send the men back to Red River for a supply of these necessaries, required for our journey forwards in the spring. We accordingly engaged the Indian hunter, Keenamontiayoo, and his boy, Misquapamayoo, to assist us in hunting, and perform any services we might require during their absence. Some delay, however, occurred before this plan could be put into execution, owing to the illness of La Ronde. During this time we were all detained at home, and the days passed by in somewhat dreary monotony.


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