The feeling of catching something in a trap is like Christmas morning every time you go check traps. This story will be two parts and the first part is about a grandpa passing on the trapping heritage to his young grandson. This is a story that is based on how I've heard a lot of trappers have started off trapping. I hope you enjoy reading it.

One brisk November day in the morning, my grandpa took me into his small crumbling garden shed in the backyard and pulled out a beaten-up, wooden crate from the early ‘70s or ’80s from the corner and handed it to me. I stumbled after he let go of it but I regained my balance after a short amount of time. He told me to carry it to the garage and wait for him. He came walking up to the garage with a wooden picnic basket with straps on it. I questioned him what it was and he answered back that it was a packbasket. He laid the collection out on a tarp and showed me 5 assorted traps. There were 2 Longsprings, 1 Jump, and 2 Conibears. He also laid out an assortment of baits and lures for different animals like Mink, Muskrats, and even Raccoons. He showed me a little shovel, a hammer, and a handful of rebar stakes for staking the traps down. He showed me how to set the traps and we went to the backyard, so he could show me a few unique sets he used to do. He showed me a pocket set and how to find the muskrat runs. He brought me back to the garage and walked over to the closet to reveal a brand new, shiny pair of hip waders bought just this morning. He advised me to go hit the hay and he would pack up the collection, so I could go set my newly acquired traps in the small curving creek behind the house tomorrow.