#659499 - 03/31/08 09:53 AM
Windows to the Soul Part V
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M. Howard
trapper
Registered: 12/24/06
Posts: 2237
Loc: Louisiana
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Windows to the Soul
Part V
As I began the second week on the line, the temp was starting to drop in the low 40’s for day time highs with some light drizzle. The last few days of the previous week had been uneventful with only sign of the nightly walks being left for me to find well after sunup every morning in the parking area. I had begun to turn the line over and redeploy to the north end of the property late the week before. The catch had stayed high with new sets being placed and checked every day. The occasional beaver, otter and one cat from the skeleton line on the south end made it worth while to maintain while building a new, fully loaded line north. I had become accustom to the now on time call from Don every evening to check on the days catch and most of all I felt, to make sure I had made it out safely. With no new sightings of the 11 point bucks, I had become complacent running the line while finding myself reaching, out of habit, for the .45 S&W on my right hip with every snapping twig. That Monday morning of the second week I found myself feeling the strain on my body. I had slowed my pace some, having made such a good impression the week before. The line had grown now to almost 10 miles round trip on the ATV, so I could not afford to slow my pace much. Still making double sets at all the good cross over on the north end I watched my stock of equipment dwindle and almost play out. I knew I would soon have to remove the skeleton line from the south and concentrate all my resource to the north. I ran through my mind a few set that had taken nothing in 6 nights. They were all trail sets made for otter. I had left them hoping to catch a few big males returning from their long holiday at other ponds in the surrounding area.
I drove to the property that Monday morning, having to run my windshield wipers on delay, to keep my line of sight clear. As I opened the main gate leading into the property, I noticed fresh deer tracks in the sandy mud. With just a glance I could tell they did not belong to one of the bucks I would soon be looking for, it was clearly a buck though. The rounded front hooves and the stride told it all. The buck had walked across the road just out side the gate, not entering the property. I thought to myself, “Good move, wait a few weeks and you will be safe”. Once I reached the parking area, I looked, as I did every morning for the fresh set of tracks the three rogue bucks would leave just before sun up. They stuck out like a sore thumb in the now wet sandy rut they had cut from weeks of walking the same path, and now, never failing to make a circle around where my truck had been parked the day before. I step from the truck and reached for the sky giving a big stretch, and then retrieved my cup of coffee. While sipping that wonderful warm brew, I walked the tracks down as I did every morning making sure all three bucks had passed. I knew it was going to be a long wet day so I grab another gear in my get up and began to load up for the days run. Adorning my .22 S&W on the left hip and the .45 on the right, I cranked the ATV to warm. While pulling the pins on the back gate of the trailer, I could feel the weakness in my shoulder and biceps from a week worth of heavy skinning. I pulled the Honda next to the truck and loaded up the last dozen and a half conibears I had removed but not re-deployed. With a few cat traps added to the load and my wind breaker zipped up tight, I head for the south end to remove a few more sets.
With the feeling of ants biting at my cheeks, I made it into third gear, this was a comfortable speed for now. As the first flag came into view, I wonder if it held number 5. Sure enough, I could see the 7x7 aircraft cable stretched tight in to the deep water murky water, as I coasted to a stop. With one tug, I could feel the dead weight at the other end of the cable signaling another back breaker had cut his last tree. What a set this had been, 5 beaver in 7 nights. I knew this one had to stay in place for the full two weeks of the line. Once the springs cleared the water, it was clear the beaver had been taken trying to enter the pond. I always place the trigger to the bank side on a conibear so I will know which direction the animal was traveling. I feel with the trigger set in this manner a swimming beaver will get that much farther in the jaw setting off the trap and one coming down the bank has momentum carrying him through the jaws. Plus I just like to know which way they are heading.
With the huge male loaded, I moved on down the line slowing long enough at each remaining set to make sure I had no dry fires or tight cables. As I topped the large levee near the dead doe, I decided to remove all the otter sets I had on the long run on what was the end of the line the first night. The thought of the huge 11 pt buck came to mind as I would be pulling the set where I had seen the first buck. This leg of the line had not been very productive, I felt for some reason the rogue deer had something to do with that. As I made the turn off the main levee I could see the end of the line almost a mile away with only 6 flags still blowing in the wind. I had abandon most of the sets with only 4 nights on them due to the low catch ratio. I did not want to waste time and resources on a dead area. While removing the first trap on this leg, I hoped the big male otter had made his round and had found that last set at the end. With every trap I removed I would make another wish for the big male otter to be waiting on me at the end. Finally I stop at the last set on this leg and took a good look at the bottom of the levee to see the trap missing. With joy I found new strength and jump from the Honda, taking my time so not to fall on the slick trail. Talking all the way down the side of the levee I reassured myself just how good I was.
“I knew he would be back, I knew it, dang I am good.”
With the cable tied off to the side some three to four feet allowing the trapped animal to swing out of the way of others wanting to use the trail, I could not see the big pale otter I knew was waiting for me. Once I made it to the tie off tree, I reached for the aircraft cable to retrieve the conibear. With one glance my hopes were shattered as the big, fat female beaver became clear. At once I began tell myself just how dumb I had been for leaving the sets out that last night.
As I dragged her carcass back up the levee with the cable, still tied to the tree, I could hear a noise to my right. It was a deep raspy wind noise, like a billow on a forge. I could hear air being pushed into the atmosphere followed by a huge intake. I turned and scanned the side of the levee in the direction of the sound and all at once I could see a dead bush moving about 20 yards away. As my eyes focused I could see a broken branch on one of the limb and realized it was one of the huge 11 point bucks bedded down in the brush and sage grass that cover the side of the levee. My heart jumped into my throat and I began to sweat. I could feel my adrenalin go into over drive and the only sound I could hear was my own heart beat as I reached for the .45 on my hip. I could not move my legs as they felt as though they weighted a hundred pounds each. I felt the snap give way on the hip holster as I began to retrieve the S&W. I stood with the weapon drawn thinking about what my next move should be. I thought for a moment about returning to the top of the levee and leaving this fight for another day. I knew I had to do this, for I had never backed down from any fight in my life. As my hearing returned I could hear a low flying jet going over head drowning out the billowing breathing of the buck. With the sound of the jet came my senses and I knew the noise from the jet gave me perfect sound cover to move in for a kill shot. The lead left my legs and my heart sank into my chest still pounding like a base drum. I placed the .45 in a combat shooting position as I took short well placed steeps toward the massive beast. I could see he was lying on his belly with his legs under him, facing down hill with his head looking toward the bottom of the levee.
I drew to within 10 yards of the animal and raised the pistol in to a full form shooting stance. The S&W is a double action only with no thumb cocker on the hammer. After years of practice I still had not master the art of making a good first shoot. Doing what I had always done before, I squeezed the trigger till the hammer moved backward enough for my right thumb to slide between the hammer face and the frame. At this point I pulled the hammer into a cocked setting with my right thumb. I could see the buck’s chest, head and neck area clearly. I careful aimed right behind the front shoulder and applied pressure to the trigger until I felt the pistol buck for the recoil. Never closing my eyes I could see a small puff of white smoke rise from the neck area of the buck as his head and body rolled to the side. The small cloud of smoke hung in the air. I new I had missed my mark, but another rogue buck lay dead less than ten feet in front of me. I keep the pistol aimed in his direction fearing some last breathe reprisal.
The echo from the shoot still reverberated down the levee when I heard a sound behind me. It was not a twig breaking but more of brush moving. At once I turned with the pistol in front of me cocked and read to fire on another target. As my sight caught up with my rapidly moving head, I could see another huge buck stand 15 yards away. “My God” I thought, “he is on his feet”. He was standing broad side facing down hill. As I took aim for his chest area behind the front shoulder I noticed the eye I could see, was closed. I did not care, I wanted to throw the first punch. I lined up the front sight and again applied pressure till felt the jolt from the recoil. I keep my eyes open again and in dismay watched as a limb fell from a small sapling pine five feet behind the buck and a foot over him. Fear ran down my spin as I watched the one eye I could see open wide and full then shut again. As the pistol settled I lower my aim point 18 inches and squeezed the trigger, this time finding my mark. At once the buck lunged forward and jumped three feet in the air. As he hit the ground fell out of view. With a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the first buck was still down, I began a combat style walk toward the second deer. Once I could see over the sage brush where he laid, I could see him kicking wildly. I took aim and from about ten feet and pumped two more rounds into his body to insure a speed demise.
I ran it through my head, “1…, 2-3…,4-5. 8 to start, one in the barrel, two left in the clip.”
I held the weapon with my left hand and found my spare clip in it spot built on the holster and retrieved it. I removed my left index finger from the trigger and depressed the clip release dropping the spent clip and slid the new fully loaded clip into place, never taking my eye off the bucks. I had turned so I could catch any movement from either direction. When I heard the spent clip hit the ground, I dropped my eyes to locate it so I could pick it up later. I noticed I was standing in the middle of the trail were my trap had been set. I decided to retrieve the spent clip just in case I need the two extra rounds, and as I knelt to pick it up, I turned to looking at the second buck. As I peered through the weed and brush, the shinny end of my 7x7 air craft tie wire stuck out at me. I realized the second buck had been lying less than 5 foot from the tree I had tied my trap to the whole time. Chill bumps raise on my arms and neck.
The second buck had stopped kick so I walked back to the first buck still in a combat position. I could see his left front leg had straightened out to the side and head was supported off the ground by his nose and rack. As I drew to within 5 feet of his lifeless body, a pungently foul order filled my senses. It smelled something like rotten meat and cat fish bait mixed. I am after all a lure using trapper, smells, even foul odors don’t bother me, but this odor turned my stomach. I back away from the buck and proceeded to check out the second one. Once I down wind the same odor became prevalent and again made me sick to my stomach. I noticed there was blood running out from under the second buck’s body. The blood did not look right. It was almost black, and running slow like burnt motor oil. I knew the bucks were down for the count so I holstered my pistol and unclipped my tie wire from the small sapling, dragging the large beaver to my position.
Back at the top of the levee, I removed the beaver from the conibear and stored them both in the back box. I turned and sat side ways on the seat while dialing Don’s cell phone number. With three rings came the booming voice at the other end.
“Good morning Mike, how is everything going?”
“So far so good, I just made $200.” I replied
“You got two of them? How and where? Are you alright?” Don was excited.
“Ya, I am okay,” I remarked as I began to explain the morning events.
Don could not believe I had taken two bucks, but the excitement in his voice let me know he was glad to have them gone.
I could not help but ask, “Hey Don, do you care if I take the rack off the bucks? I have never taken anything this size. I have taken some 140 class bucks, but these are 180 maybe even 190 class bucks.”
With a laugh, Don replied, “I don’t mind, if you can stand the smell. If I were you I would wait to tomorrow to remove them. You may change your mind. How close have you gotten to them?”
“Close enough to know they stink! I was going to wait a few days and let the odor clear out.” I remarked “I can tell you have already tried this”
“Yes, I would let them sit for a few days, I promises, nothing will bother them. The buzzards want even eat them. Come back tomorrow and see if you still want the rack.” Don stated with insight.
“What is the smell?” I asked, “I mean…, They smell rotten.”
Quick came the reply, “They are! You will see.”
With a few more questions and small talk, we ended the call. I took one last look to insure neither buck had moved and moved on through the line. With another good day take and 22 more sets made, I made it home just before dark. With a 7 day total of 105 beaver, 36 nutria rats, 11 otter, 47 coons and 9 bob cat, I was piling them up in the freezers. I knew the catch would have to fall off soon and when it did, I would need to spend more time putting fur on boards or I was going to run out of freezer space. I worked through dinner and made it to bed some where around 10 that night. I slowing down and getting a little sloppy on my clean up at the fur shed. I was just worn out ready for bed.
With few thoughts of the adventures of the day, I laid my head on the pillow and had the feeling come over me as if a surgery nurse was telling me “Take deep breaths and you will be getting sleeping soon.” As I woke to the sound of the alarm the next morning, I had not even rolled over the night before. I had sleep on my arm and it was asleep and numb. I hit the snooze button twice before my feet would hit the floor. The weather had cleared at least and I was looking forward to a sunny cool day. While going through my morning rituals I thought about the bucks I had bagged the day before. I got a little pep in my step knowing I would need to carry some extra tools to remove the two racks. I wasted little time getting ready. With the fur from the day before put away in the freezers, I found my bone saw and a razor sharp six boning knife. With my gear loaded and the truck warm I hit the road just as the sun was breaking the tree line with that white orange glow letting me know it was safe to inter the property. Sipping my cup of coffee all the way to the main gate, I could not hold back the excitement that I felt. I could only wish that I had taken the two bucks during legal gun season on a hunt.
With a few bumps and opening gates, I pulled into the parking area. I peered out the drives side window to see if the three bucks had made their rounds yet. Like the old paper mill whistle that use to blow at 12 noon with out fail, so had the bucks walked just before sun up. I cranked the ATV as soon as I got out, allow the engine a little longer to warm that morning with the temp some where around thirty degrees, it was tight and turned over a little slow. I proceeded to the deer track and to my amazement, there was one set of fresh cat tracks just ahead of the bucks. Finding a cat track in my boot print from the day before let me know he had been through in the pass 24 hours, and the buck tracks I found in his track let me know he had been ahead of the deer. I thought for a moment and wondered how many people would have over looked such a small fact. After the events that had transpired the last time I set for a cat here, I did not even bother with a cat set. With little gear to load, I was on my way rather quickly heading to the first set on the south end. Oh how those ants bit at my cheeks in the clean crisp air. Little over half way to the first set, my right thumb began to ache from depressing the thumb throttle on the Honda. The heavy riding gloves broke the wind but could not total insulate from the wind chill. Once the flag for the first trap came into sight, I could only wonder if it held number 6. With a slow drive by, I could see the 7x7 cable was limp and still in place, but I knew I would take another beaver or two from this set before the line was removed.
Picking up a beaver and an otter in the two and half dozen traps I had left on the skeleton line still made it worth while to run. As I rode to retrieve my record book racks a thought came to my mind about such a small take in the skeleton line. I had a former boss who would always tell me, “It is kind of like the little boy peeing in the ocean, every little drop counts.” I guess this is what he was talking about, every animal taken counted toward the total average.
Having left the last flag up to make it easy to find the cross over where I had taken the deer the day before, required little thought as to where I needed to stop. As the flag drew closer and closer I realized I did not need a flag to find the pungent foul smell as I was coming in down wind. I could not believe the odor that loomed in the area of the two buck. With the temp so low the night before, there should not be an odor like this, I thought to myself. Braving the smell, from the up wind side, I made my way to the first buck I had dispatched. As he came into site, I could not believe what I was seeing. The carcass appeared to be two weeks old from the amount of decay that had taken place. The animal’s eye sockets were sunk in to its head, there were holes in the rib area with every rib showing on the animals side. Hair had slipped and was lying about the ground around the body where the light rain had washed it. The most disturbing thing was the antlers. They had turned white over night losing their golden brown luster. The only thing dark was the deepest groves near the bases. This could not be the same deer I had taken just 24 hours before, nothing can decay that fast in temps below freezing. Holding my breath as I examined the rack, the broken G tine on the right side removed all doubt. I made my way to the second buck still lying in the same spot, untouched, and in the same condition as the first. I now knew why Don had told me to come back to them on the second day. The foul smell was more than I could take, so I withdrew back to the top of the levee, cranking the Honda and pulling forward twenty-five yards up wind. As I fumbled for my cell phone, I could not control the thoughts of disgust over such a majestic animal going to such was.
“Good morning Mike” Don answered. “I take it you have made it to the deer.”
“Yep, and I can’t believe what I have witnessed.” I started.
Don laughed just little and said “Do you still want those horns?”
“Na, I think I will pass on them, at the rate they are going they will be gone in a week” I replied.
“No, they will not be gone in a week, it will take a full month, but they will be gone.” Don said with a sharp tone. “I did not think you would want them after today.”
“Na, I don’t think I will bother with them any more, the smell is unbelievable rotten. So are you ever going to tell me where they come from?” I questioned.
There was a pause, “Yes, I tell you what. I will show you where those deer came from next Monday before we go on the hunt. I will take you to the breeding area and let you see for yourself. How dose that sound?”
“That will work. I will be looking forward to next Monday. Tell me one thing, are you cloning these animals?” I replied knowing the answer.
“Just wait till next Monday and all of your questions will be answered.” Don made the short reply.
“Okay, the curiosity is going to keep me up at night.” I said know I could sleep just fine.
As the call end, I cranked the ATV and turned around heading for the north end of the line. As I drove through the foul odor heading out, I could only think about the following Monday and all would be revealed.
_________________________
If I have to explain it, you would not understand.
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#676818 - 04/11/08 07:21 PM
Re: Windows to the Soul Part V
[Re: nicktrap]
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LineMtnCooner
trapper
Registered: 01/20/07
Posts: 1603
Loc: Northumberland County, PA
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