The Fur Hunter.

The most expert hunters and trappers of fine furs in the Hudson's Bay Territory are the Wood-Indians-Crees, Beavers, and others and from them are traded the greater portion of the peltries exported by the company. They are of different habits and dispositions from their relatives, the Plains-Indians a sort of solitary hunters and trappers on foot, contrasted with a race of gregarious horsemen. Generally very peaceable, they pride themselves upon an honesty unknown to their lawless brethren of the prairies; and although great beggars, and inclined to importune one to give them different things to which they may take a fancy, yet they never offer to dispute one's right of ownership. Expert hunters of moose, and occasionally seeking the buffalo, when they enter the skirts of the timber in winter, yet they confine their labours in the main to trapping the smaller furs. As a consequence, they are better clothed and equipped than the Plain Indians, being able to obtain what they require at the trading posts in exchange for furs. On the other hand, they often suffer severely from starvation, owing to the increasing scarcity of the larger animals; while the Plain- Indians, following the buffalo, seldom lack food, although they possess but little marketable property wherewith to buy clothes and luxuries at the forts.

Upon the arrival of the summer and autumn boat brigades at the different posts throughout the Fur Land, bringing supplies of merchandise for the trade of the ensuing year, it is the custom of the company to issue to their hunters and trappers goods up to a certain amount, to be returned in furs at the end of the season. These advances are generally all made by November, so that the hunters may be in readiness for the season's work.

The different methods by which the Indians succeeded in snaring and trapping animals are many. But as by far the most numerous of the more valuable of the fur-bearing animals of the territory are the marten and mink, to the capture of the former of these two the sable of the trade the exertions of the trappers are principally directed. By the beginning of November, the animals have got their winter coats, and fur is in season, or "prime," as the phrase is; and the Indian trapper, who has taken up his residence in some favourite locality, now prepares to lay out his trapping-walk. As he has a long tramp before him, and the temperature is below zero, he attires himself in the winter costume of the trapper: a large deer-skin or, duffel capote, very much lapped in front, and fastened about his waist by a brilliant worsted sash, protects his body from the cold; a small rat or fox-skin cap covers his head, while his legs are encased in the ordinary blue-cloth legging; large moccasins, with two or three pairs of duffel socks simple squares of blanket cloth clothe his feet; and huge mittaines, extending to the elbow, complete his costume. Into his belt, he thrusts a small axe or hatchet, which serves as a balance to the huge hunting knife and fire bag hanging from the other side. His pack is prepared in the following manner:

In the middle of his blanket he places a piece of pemmican, sufficient for five or six days' consumption; as much tea as he can get; a tin kettle and cup; and, if he is rich, some steel traps, and a little sugar and salt. A gun and ammunition complete his outfit. Doubling the blanket over all, he ties it down upon a small hand-sled, or toboggan. This hand-sled is a thin flat slip of wood, from five to six feet long by one broad, and turned up at the end in a considerable curl. It is very light, and the Indians always use it when laying out their walks, or in visiting their traps, to carry their provisions and haul home the animals or game they may have caught. Tying on a pair of snowshoes, he throws the line of the hand-sled over his shoulder and starts alone into the gloomy forest.

A sky of darkness is above, bleak wilds and frozen lakes before him; the recesses of the forest, the icy margins of the lakes must be traversed, for there are the haunts of the sable. Silently forward he trudges; for the trapper can never enliven the solitude of his journey by whistling or a song. The cold is below zero, but the fur will prove all the finer. Nerved by necessity, and stimulated by the love of gain, he presses. Fatigue and cold exhaust him; a snowstorm overtakes him; the bearings and landmarks are obliterated and forgotten; sometimes provisions fail, and he who has promised a speedy return is seen no more.

The trapper, be he a white man or Indian, of necessity leads a solitary, lonely, and dangerous life. To be alone in the trackless forest demands a courage and endurance of no ordinary kind. The lone trapper knows not the emulation, the wild dash and hurrah of the soldier, as he marches up to the deadly breach; he cannot feel that powerful incentive to be brave arising from the knowledge that a gallant deed will be handed down, with this name, to posterity; he has no opportunity for display before his fellows; alone with nature and his Creator, he is self-dependent, and his indomitable courage can only spring from a firm reliance on his strength.

As he penetrates the forest, his keen eyes scan every mark upon the snow for the tracks he seeks. The perceptions of the Indian or half-breed are so nice, his attention so constantly on the alert, and his conclusions so rapidly formed, that he draws inferences from general signs with great readiness and accuracy. As a consequence, he reads signs left behind by a passing animal as readily and truly as if he had been personally present and witnessed the whole scene. It matters little whether they are fresh or half obliterated; he never makes a mistake in his perusal of the language of tracks marks left printed in that book the hunter knows so well, the face of Nature. When he observes the footprints of marten or fisher, he unstraps his pack and sets to work to construct a wooden trap in the following manner:

Having cut down several saplings, he shapes them into stakes of about a yard in length. These are driven into the ground to form a small circular palisade or fence, 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 permit it to fairly enter in and turn around, a thick limb or thin tree trunk is laid, with one end resting on the ground. A tree of considerable size is next felled, stripped of its branches, and so laid that it rests upon the log at the entrance in a parallel direction. Inside the circle, a small forked stick holds a bit of dried meat, or a piece of partridge or squirrel, as bait. This is projected horizontally into the enclosure, and on the outer 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 over 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. It is a guillotine with a tree instead of a knife.

The marten or fisher creeps under the tree and seizes the bait. Finding himself unable to pull it off, he backs out, still tugging at the forked stick to which the bait is attached. Just as the centre of his back comes under the fall or tree, he loosens the baited stick, which lets slip the small supporting one, which in turn lets fall the large horizontal log. Down it comes on his back, killing him instantly, but doing no injury to the fur. Wherever marten tracks are plentiful in the snow, a deadfall is erected; an expert trapper being able to make forty or fifty of them in a day. These he scatters over a long line of country, it may be ten or fifteen miles in length. Once a week he starts forth to visit this line of deadfalls, gathering the furs taken, repairing the broken traps and setting them again.

The numerous lakes and swamps in the forest are always sought by the trapper, not only because they enable him to travel more rapidly and penetrate further into the less hunted regions, but also because the edges of the lakes and the portages between them are the favourite haunts of the fox, the fisher, and the mink. Where the lakes are shallow, the water freezes to the bottom, except in the deepest parts, where air or breathing holes exist in the ice. The water in these holes is crowded with myriads of fish, most of them of small size, but so closely packed that they cannot move freely. On thrusting an arm, it seems like plunging it into a mass of thick mud. The snow in the vicinity is beaten down as hard and level as a road, by the numbers of animals which flock to these Lenten feasts. Tracks converge from every side; here the footprints of the cross and silver fox, delicately impressed in the snow as he trots daintily along with light and airy tread; the rough marks of the clumsier fisher; the clear, sharply-defined track of the active mink; and the great coarse trail of the ubiquitous, ever-galloping wolverine. Around the margins of these lakes, the trapper erects his deadfalls, certain of securing an abundant harvest.

Beavers, wolves, foxes, lynx, and the other larger animals, are generally caught by the steel trap. These traps resemble the ordinary rat-trap, except that they are larger, have no teeth, and the springs are double. Those used for wolves and lynx, especially, are very large, and the springs are so powerful that it requires all the force of a strong man to set them. A chain is attached to one spring, with a ring at the free extremity, through which a stout stake is passed, or a weight fastened, and left otherwise unattached. When the animal is caught, he carries the trap for a short distance but is soon brought up by the stake or weight becoming entangled across the trees or fallen timbers. The track in the snow soon leads to his discovery by the hunter. In setting the trap, it is generally placed so that the jaws, when spread out flat, are exactly on a level with the snow: the chain and stake both being carefully hidden and a thin layer of snow carefully sprinkled over the top of the trap itself. Fragments of meat are then scattered about, and the place smoothed down to leave no trace. The fox or wolf, feeding about, generally gets one leg in the trap, sometimes both legs at once, and occasionally the nose. The trapper prefers catching the animal by two legs if possible, as then there is not the slightest possibility of escape; whereas, the fox caught by one leg, often eats it off close to the trap and escapes on the other three. The stump soon heals up again and becomes covered with hair. When caught by the nose, they are almost certain to escape, owing to its wedgelike shape, unless taken out of the trap very soon after being caught. The wolf is the most difficult animal to catch in the steel trap, being so sagacious that he will scrape all around one, let it be ever so well set, and after eating all the bait, walk away unhurt. The hunter catches them, however, by setting two traps close together, so that, when the wolf scrapes at one, he is almost certain to get his foot in the other.

In the remoter districts, many of the larger fur-bearing animals are caught using the poisoned bait. These are simply small pieces of meat into the centre of which strychnine has been inserted using a small hole. When frozen it is impossible to distinguish any difference in appearance between them and the harmless ones. The baits are purposely made very small, so that, in the ordinary course, they will be bolted whole, and are scattered along the paths traversed by the animals. Poison is rarely used, however, in the vicinity of settlements, owing to the danger of destroying valuable train-dogs, or upon the open prairie, where it is liable to poison the grasses, and so become dangerous to horses and cattle. Wire and twine nets are also frequently used in trapping furs, though principally directed against the lynx or wild cat.

Though well nigh extinct in many parts of the Fur Land, in others the beaver has held his own against all comers. Nearly thirty thousand of these little builders are annually caught along the shores and swampy shallows of Peace River, even though they are a very difficult animal to trap. A shallow lake is their favourite place of abode. Along its edges, where rushes and sedgy plants appear above the ice and snow, rise several small earthy mounds, while around it the trees are felled in all directions as if the land had been cleared for farming. This is a beaver colony. In summer and autumn, the spot is a lively place enough, but in winter there are no signs of animal life, the beaver keeping within doors.

Arrived on the ground, the trapper knows at a glance the various signs of the animal's presence. Cutting down a few stakes, he proceeds to point them at the ends, and then breaking the ice from around the beaver lodges, he drives them between it and the shore. This prevents the beaver from running along the passage which they always keep from their lodges to the shore, where their storehouse is located, and imprisons those now in the lodge. The trapper next stakes up those in the storehouse onshore in the same manner, and thus imprisons those who may have fled there for shelter, on hearing the sound of the axe at the lodge. Then, taking his axe, he cuts through the lodge; no very easy matter, owing to the vast amount of frozen sticks and mud of which it is constructed. At last, laying bare the interior of the structure, he reaches in his hand, gives a pull, and out comes a fat sleepy beaver, which he flings upon the snow. A blow upon the head from the axe puts an end to it, and the operation is again repeated until all the inmates are killed and packed upon the hand-sled. The Indian gorges on fat, and beaver, and never throw away the meat.

If it is early autumn, however, and the ice has not yet formed about the beaver lodges, the hunter catches the animal in a steel trap. He first finds out how the beaver gets into his home, which is generally in shallow water. Then a steel trap is sunk in the water, care being taken to regulate the depth, so that it may not be more than twelve or fourteen inches below the surface. This is accomplished by either rolling in a log or building in large stones. Immediately over the trap is the bait, made from the castor or medicine gland of the beaver, suspended from a stick, to just clear the water. With a long cord and a buoy, to mark the position of the trap when the beaver swims away with it, the trap is complete. The unsuspecting beaver, returning to his lodge, scents the tempting castor, purposely placed in his road. As he cannot reach it as he swims, he feels about with his hind legs for something to stand on. This, too, has been carefully placed for him. Putting down his feet to stretch up for the coveted morsel, he finds them suddenly clasped in an iron embrace; there is no hope of escape. The log, revealing his hiding place, is seized by the trapper, the imprisoned beaver dispatched by a single blow on the head, and the trap set again. A trapper will sometimes spend many weeks encamped near a good beaver village.

The most dire and untiring enemy of the fur-hunter is the wolverine, or North American Glutton following his footsteps, and destroying the martens after they are caught. This curious animal is rather larger than the badger, with a long body, stoutly and compactly made, mounted on exceedingly short legs of great strength. His feet, are large and powerful and are armed with sharp, curved claws. Voracious and blood-thirsty, there hardly lives a more cunning and crafty animal. During the winter months, he obtains a livelihood by availing himself of the labours of the trapper. With untiring perseverance, he hunts day and night for the trail of man, and when it is found, follows it unerringly, 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. If the trap contains an animal, he drags it out, and, with wanton malevolence, tears it and hides it in the underbrush, or the top of some lofty pine. When hard-pressed by hunger, he occasionally devours it. In this manner he demolishes a whole series of traps; and when once a wolverine has established himself on a trapping walk, the hunter's only chance of success is to change ground and build a fresh lot of traps, trusting to secure a few furs before his new path is found out by his industrious enemy.

Such serious injury does the wolverine inflict, that he has received from the Indians the name of Kekwaharkess, or "The Evil One." 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 deadfall. Occasionally one is poisoned, or caught in a steel trap, but his strength is so great that it requires a strong trap to hold him. He seems even to suspect the poisoned bait and bites in two and tastes every morsel before swallowing it.

Despite the hardships and fatigues which attend it, there is something strangely attractive in the trapper's life. The grand beauty of the forest whose pines, some of which tower up over two hundred feet in height, are decked and mantled in snow, and where no sound is heard, except the explosions of trees cracking with the intense frost, excites admiration and stimulates curiosity. The interest in the pursuit is constantly kept up, by the observance of tracks, the interpretation of their varied stories, and the accounts of the different habits of the animals as related by one's wild companions. 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. But on the other hand, the long laborious march, loaded with a heavy pack, and covered with a quantity of thick clothing, through snow and woods beset with fallen timber and underbrush, is fatiguing enough. Provisions usually fall short, and the trapper subsists, in a great measure, on the animals captured to obtain the fur. As soon as the skins of the marten and fisher are removed, their bodies are stuck on the end of a stick and put to roast before the fire, looking for all the world like so many skewered cats. The only change in the fatiguing monotony is the work of making traps, or the rest in camp at night.

Selecting a large pine tree for his night camp, the trapper scrapes away the snow from about its roots with a snowshoe. Clearing a space seven or eight feet in diameter, and nearly four feet deep, he cuts the pinebroom from the ends of the branches above him, and strews them at the bottom of the hollow, till the snow is covered. This done, he collects a huge pile of firewood and heaps it about the foot of the tree. The ruddy flame glances up among the branches overhead and sends a myriad of sparks into the air. The sombre forest undergoes a sudden and magical transformation. Before, it was cold, silent, gloomy, and desolate, and the pale snow looked spectral in the dark. Now, the thick stems of the trees are bathed in a genial glow, which penetrates the branches above, tinting those near the fire with a ruby tinge. The white snow changes to a beautiful pink, while the tree trunks, bright and visible close at hand, become more and more indistinct in the distance, till they are lost in the gloom. The snow walls about the trapper sparkle as if set with diamonds. They do not melt as might be expected; the cold is too intense for that, and nothing melts except the snow quite close to the fire.

Lying on a soft elastic couch of pine boughs, at his feet a roaring fire of great trees heaped high, from which arises an enormous cloud of smoke and steam, the hunter, wrapped in his blanket, sleeps in peace. Sometimes, however, when the cold is very intense, or the wind blows strongly, a single blanket is poor protection. The huge fire is inadequate to prevent the freezing of one extremity, while it scorches the other. Sleep is impossible, or if obtained, is quickly broken by an aching cold in every limb as the fire burns low.