Not So Dead Beaver, My Girlfriend’s Buckskin Jacket and My Butt.

I was watching some videos this morning while having my early morning coffee. A great way to get motivated early in the morning. As I was scanning through Youtube I came across a video from Riverside Guide Service that brought back a few great memories of a trapline I shared with a girlfriend’s father back in 1973. Seems like a life time ago.

Heck I haven’t thought about that trapline in longest time. No, I haven’t thought about Debbie either dear.

Even though I was a bit wild back then I kept it under control while I was around Debbie’s dad Bruce. He was a big man and could have picked me up and tore me a new one real quick. Instead he took a real liking to me. Well I will admit that I worked hard and didn’t complain, I think that helped.

Deb’s mom and dad asked if we would like to move into their cottage, which was a little ways behind their house on the edge of a really niche pond. We thought about it for about 30 seconds and then moved right in.

We had it pretty good living there. Living so close to home we had no need to cook as there was always place settings at the table for us.

Bruce was full of songs and jokes and was a lot of fun to be around.

One gorgeous Saturday morning at the breakfast table Bruce asked me if I would like to join him on his daily run around his trapline. I was a bit of a hunter and fisher so I was more than happy to go with him and experience something my ancestors did to survive.

To make a long story a bit shorter Bruce asked if I would become a partner with him on the trapline for 50%. Because I already had a good job I would have to get up even earlier to monitor the traps daily but I was up for it.

I had a lot of fun, learned a lot about trapping and eventually quit my job to work with Bruce full time planting trees for clients. But back to the trapping story…

Bruce used to trap a beaver damn for years until some hunters went in and just for the fun of it they shot and killed all the beavers. Bruce thought that more beavers would move in but a year or two went by and nothing so he stopped going up in that area.

We didn’t actually go up in where that damn was but later I walked up in there on my own to see. I love to fish beaver damns and wanted to see what it was like.

To my surprise there were beaver signs everywhere. More beavers had indeed moved in. Of course I could hardly wait to finish the run so I could tell Bruce. When I told him he insisted that we hop in the canoe and head up there to see.

Before we left he grabbed what he needed to set a trap and we were on our way. I am sure I saw a tear in his eyes when we got there and sure enough there were beaver.

He showed me how to tie the wire to a cinder block and kink the wire in the right place to hold the beaver under the water when it got trapped, because they instinctively dive when paninced.

I went back there every day and nothing for about a week. It probably took that long for my scent to wear off the area. Anyways I went to the damn one day and there was a big beaver sitting there looking at me and it wasn’t dead like it should have been, just really ticked.

I don’t usually slack off but after days of not getting anything I walked up in there without my rifle and sure enough that was the day there was a trapped beaver that wasn’t drowned.

It had tangled in the chain and couldn’t even dive so I looked around for a weapon. I picked up a good size tree branch and hit the poor scared beaver as hard as I could and then then pinned it under the water for what I thought was a really long time.

I dragged it’s lifeless body out of the water, put the beaver over my back holding it by the hind legs and started back to the canoe.

Well I about half way back to the canoe when I thought it moved and before I was 100% sure it really let me know it wasn’t dead. If I hadn’t wore my girlfriend’s buckskin jacket that day I am sure I would have some scares on my back and perhaps my butt.

I think that was the scariest moment of my short life. Needless to say I immediately let go and jumped forward. Well that beaver got the better of me that day and lived to tell all his friends back at the damn and I never left my rifle in the canoe again.

Tagged with: Beaver • Canada

Filed under: hunting and trapping

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