Springtime trapping

Three day weekends means that there's enough time to trap and thoroughly exhaust oneself in the great outdoors.  In my case, I usually end up a bit beat up.  Being clumsy definitely and stubborn definitely have their disadvantages.  Last Saturday was a blue skied, sunny, albeit windy and therefore chilly day.  I slept in and decided that lunch should be a picnic.  I walked over to Mom's with some picnic supplies and talked her into it.  We wanted company so we called Gregg and went and picked him and Penny up for our outing.  I figured it would be warmer at the bridge than out on the beach so off we went up the road.  I was right.  I like being right.  There was a woodpile all ready for us to use for our picnic.  The wind was a little chilly even up there but it was really nice to be outside.  Everything tastes better outside.  We ate and then Gregg tried to sight in the scope on his new gun.  It wasn't working out so eventually he took the scope off and used the iron sights.  I got to shoot a handful of rounds.  Let's just say that now I want a 17 HMR.  On the way up or down to the bridge Gregg talked about setting beaver traps and then going beaver hunting.  I immediately volunteered to go along.

Momma and her faithful companion Mister Blue

I met Gregg at the shop around 6.  We loaded up the boat and launched it and started off on our beaver outing.  We had to drop off some stuff at Gregg's cabin before we went off in search of places to put beaver traps.  After dropping off a duffel and some water, Gregg drove us down to South River.  The water is still pretty high so we were able to drive into some dammed areas.  We found one place with fresh beaver cuttings to put a foot trap and a conibear trap.  We headed further up the river, twisting and turning around some pretty sharp bends.  There wasn't much fresh sign of beaver.  Eventually we came to a tree across the river. This effectively halted our journey from continuing any further (i.e. no chain saw.)  So we turned around and started the twisty, turny, swift way back down river.  I had the grace of mind to stand up, grab my camera, and stuff it in the cooler that I was sitting on.  Then I sat back down and held on.  We flew around corners, Gregg expertly maneuvering the boat around snags and through the obstacles.  Then we saw it.  A great big snag with a bunch of logs right in the middle of our trajectory.  The turn was more than 90 degrees.  We couldn't go behind it without slamming into the bank and Gregg turned just barely too slow in front of it.  The boat turned but just didn't have enough thrust to push us out of harms way.  So we slammed sideways into the log jam, the right side of the boat pushed half way up out of the water.  Luckily the left side was about an inch away from taking on water.  I slammed pretty hard into Gregg and together we ripped the driver's seat and the console off the bottom of the boat.  Penny didn't come to any harm.  A box of 4 shot shells flew out of the boat along with my sunglasses.  But thank goodness that my paranoid butt put my camera away into the cooler.  I've lost enough pictures for one life time (computer getting stolen in Durango.)  We both hopped out of the boat and together pushed and strained and rocked the boat slowly back into the water.  Then we got it out onto the river and the motor wouldn't start.  Luckily we were in a not so swift spot and Gregg was able to get it started after a few cursing moments.  We started off again, and didn't quite fully regain our composure until we were in the lower part of the river and it had straightened out a little.  Gregg's words of the day.  "Boy I shoulda brought some whiskey.  I could use a shot after that."  Agreed, Gregg.  Agreed.

Gregg setting a beaver foot trap.  I need to borrow one so I can practice setting it (building up strength.)

South River was smooth sailing after the one little hang up.  Soon as we got going again and I was moving stuff around, I noticed my gimp arm was re-gimped.  I could grasp anything or straighten it very well.  In pushing the boat back into the water I must have restrained it.  I didn't really take it easy on it the rest of the night, which didn't help I'm sure.  We made it out of South River alive and decided to try our luck with North River.  There were two good places with activity to make sets so that's what we did.  Ducks were flying all over the place, Gregg was nice enough not to get annoyed with me as I asked over and over what kind of ducks they were.  Slowly I was able to start identifying them myself (towards the end of the night, mind you.)  Right as we were pulling up to a dam, Gregg and I saw a huge predatory bird flying over head.  It was a different body type than an eagle, so we figured it was a falcon.  The wingspan was huge.  (Today Gregg said it might have been an osprey.)  It flew and circle around the area for a bit and then as we finished the set and were walking back to the boat, I saw it flying upwards dripping water.  It had just dove into the river, I think he missed what he was stooping at though because he talons were empty.  We still kept looking for fresh beaver sign after finishing the second set and using up our supply of foot traps.  As we were going along upriver, we spotted a beaver in a little slough to the left of the river.  Gregg slowed the boat down and I reached for his .17 HMR.  I offered it to him, but he said I could shoot.  So I aimed and shot.  Low.  Bah.  The beaver dove under the water and we waited for him to surface.  I took aim again as soon as he popped out of the water and shot again.  There was no splash this time indicating that I missed, so we both assumed that I got him.  Yet, he never popped up again.  We looked and looked paddling around the area, but never found a trace of him other than some bubbles leading off to the side of the slough.  Gregg said he might have gone up into a side den.  Sad day.  I missed my first beaver.

It was chilly.  Can you tell?  My face is the color of my jacket!

We pushed onward and upward.  The next adventure awaited us on a sand bar.  We pulled up to look at a lake or slough behind a sand bar thinking there might be some beaver activity in the area.  Gregg had stood up in the boat and I watched another large predatory bird flying in over us.  (I've been doing some google imaging and I think it was an osprey.)  It started to hover and stall in mid air as I watched.  I yanked myself up to a standing position with Gregg's coat and pointed.  Just as we both looked the bird stooped at something in the water.  It came up with empty Talons but it was so freaking cool.  It was so close.  I'd never seen anything like it.  I bubbled and oozed excitement.  I grabbed my shot gun and Gregg grabbed his rifle and we climbed out of the boat.  As we walked back to the water, two swans were flying in over head.  We crouched down right were we were and they alighted on the lake right in front of us.  It was incredible.  The swans were so close, right in front of us.  We watched them for a little while and listened to them honking at each other.  Gregg honked once and they honk-honked right back.  It was mystical being that close to such grace and beauty.  And then the hunter in me came out.  We stood up to startle them to flight, and to give them a sporting chance and I shot at them three times.  I missed three times.  Swans mate for life.  Maybe subconsciously I didn't want to separate them for ever.  It sure was fun though.  I think if I ever shoot at a swan again, I want it to be single.  I wouldn't feel guilty for killing a soul mate then.  We walked around the sandbar and found sign of beaver but didn't see an easy way of getting to places to set traps.  Gregg thought Harold's Slough was fairly close to where we were so we continued on up the river. 

The sun was setting as we were driving to town.  It was gorgeous.

We made it up to Harold's slough. Another boat, I won't name names, had just left there and there were tons of shells and cigarette butts floating in the water. Idiots. At least they could toss them in their boat and throw them away later. It's so frustrating to see people not taking care of the land and just throwing garbage anywhere. I hate it. We motored through the slough, taking our time trying to spy out beavers in the water, but none decided they wanted to meet their maker that night. The temperature seemed to drop as we headed to town. As we were motoring down Gregg saw a beaver on our right on the North River, just above bible camp. He slowed the boat and I grabbed the gun. The waves were rocking the boat and I couldn't get a steady shot. The beaver dove just as the boat stopped rocking and I didn't get a chance to shoot. We motored the boat into the little waterway and waited for the beaver to surface. He took his sweet time and we figured he went into a side burrow. So we were getting ready to head out and I saw the beaver next to the bank, under some willows and he dove down just as I saw him. Sneaky beaver. He really wasn't into getting shot at. We didn't see him again after that. My face was beet red by the time we got to Nuthluk. Little Penny was shivering and shaking, silly girl needs to learn to stay out of the water. We set six traps, and I shot one duck. And I got to see some incredible stuff that I'd never seen before. I love being out and about.