CHAPTER XXI.

WOLF TRAPPING AN ART.

By Captain Jack O'Connell.

For more than 40 years "Old Hank" Morrison has made his home in the lonely cabin on the sh.o.r.e of a small lake miles from any human habitation, in Alger County. I have often visited this strange old chap, and although the frosts of 70 winters has bent his giant form and silvered his hair, his heart is young. His past life I have never been able to fathom, but to judge from the choice books in several languages in his little cabin, I am led to believe there is a romance in the long, long ago.

The writer slowly recovering from a stroke of paralysis, wishing to get outside the confines of civilization, decided to drop in on "Old Hank" recently. I made a trip despite the deep snow and the protest of my doctor. When I pounded on his door it was rather late at night.

"Who in ----," and then pausing in astonishment, threw the door wide open and held out his hand. "h.e.l.lo Jack," he fairly shouted, shaking my hand in real pump handle fashion, and with all the vigor of his mighty frame. "Blest if I ever expected to see you again! Well! well!

well!" He helped me put the horse away in good shape, and then got me a regular "bang up" supper despite the late hour.

Next morning after pancakes and coffee, the very first thing to attract my attention, when I stepped outside was two huge wolf pelts nailed to the side of the shack doing duty as the barn. I became interested at once owing to the unusual size and freshness of both.

"Fifty dollars in one night is like finding money, eh," remarked the old man.

I asked him how he managed to catch these cunning animals, knowing that others had met with poor success elsewhere. Says he, "I didn't learn the art of wolf trapping by mail--I have been afflicted with the fad of wolf trapping for 30 years, and in pursuit of them, I have learned a few things not observed by other hunters. I may not know it all but I think I have the only successful trick of trapping these cunning animals and any man who will try my suggestions will meet with good success."

Wolves are very suspicious animals, and have a keen scent for human beings. They will sometimes make a wide detour around a place where I have blazed a tree for the purpose of marking a spot I want to again visit. They are very observing and while the scent of a man's trail through the forest is fresh they will not come within many feet of his path. Hunters find in the school of bitter experience that it is no easy matter to catch them in traps. Old trappers will tell you that it is easier to catch the cutest fox than it is to snare the dullest and most stupid wolf. I have followed the same method all my life--I learned the trick from a half breed trapper in the far Canadian Northwest.

I select an open place in the woods or on the edge of the forest. It is necessary to have a knoll or mound near the center or edge of the clearing on which to place the trap, and in plain view of your bait which you propose to place there for the benefit of Mr. Wolf. A piece of venison or ham is about the best bait to use. I hang this on a sapling or tree and high enough from the ground so the wolf cannot get it by jumping. Make no mistake, mind you, regarding the height from the ground. I put it at least eight feet, for I can tell you a wolf is no slouch when it comes to jumping, especially when the reward is a good chunk of meat, and he happens to be hungry.

"Why not plant a trap under the bait," I suggested, in an effort to appear wise. "Not on your life," says he. "Mr. Wolf is always looking out for just such a joke."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Northern Wolf.]

Continuing, he says, "I then cut a stake about six feet long--one with a crotch at one end. I sharpen the other end for the purpose of driving it into the ground. The ring on the end of the chain which is fastened to the trap, I slip over the stake up to the crotch. I then drive the stake into the ground so that no part of it is exposed. I place the trap on the highest part of the knoll and then cover it with leaves. I never take the leaves in my bare hands. I use a piece of bark to carry the leaves in and always from some other place than in the immediate vicinity of the trap, for, mind you, the vagabond is quick to detect if the leaves have been disturbed, and will also scent the presence of man if the leaves have been placed there with his hands.

And remember, it is absolutely necessary that no part of trap, chain or stake be left exposed to view. You see, if you leave the top of the stake sticking out, showing where it was cut off, it is enough to make the vagabond of the woods suspicious that there is a "n.i.g.g.e.r in the fence" somewhere, and he will lose no time in getting into the next township--instead of attacking the bait.

The bait and trap should be from 30 to 40 feet apart--gauge the distance according to the lay of the ground where the trap is set.

When the wolf scents the bait, he will approach it with great caution and endeavor to reach it by jumping. After several unsuccessful attempts to reach it, he will proceed to the highest ground in the immediate vicinity of the bait, where he will set himself upon his haunches and set up a great howl, calling every wolf within the hearing of his voice to the spot.

Your trap, you see, is set upon the highest point of this mound or knoll, and a wolf is almost certain to get into the concealed trap. I sometimes set as many as eight traps on a mound in the vicinity of the bait, and I have caught from two to four wolves in a single night in this way. This was in cases, of course, where a pack arrived before the original finder of the bait was caught. You see if they had found him in a trap when they arrived on the scene, they would not come within yards of the place, but would cut out for tall timber at once, even if they did get a whiff of the bait on the sapling.

Wolves are even more easily caught in the spring of the year than at any other time. This is, of course, after the close of the hunting season. They are hunters themselves and prefer to chase and kill their own game and this accounts for the fact that they will seldom ever touch a deer carca.s.s left in the woods by hunters. When the snow is deep they hunt deer by following their tracks for hours, even days, until they finally get their prey into a place where the animal can't run or defend itself. The feast is then on in short order.

Wolves kill more deer in this country than two legged hunters. If the state is going to do the right thing to protect the deer, just let them put a bounty of $50.00 on the wolves in every county in the Upper Peninsula. Then the woods will be full of men with rifles, and in a year or two there wouldn't be a wolf in Northern Michigan.

If the state did this instead of getting out a lot of swell books on the game laws, we would have the deer with us a few years yet But as it is now, the wolves alone will pick the bones of the last deer in this whole Northern Michigan in less than three years from now. Mark you these words, the state now pays $25.00 for every pelt, but it don't seem to induce hunters and trappers to make a business of wolf trapping. Even with plenty of wolves to catch, following the business for a living is one of extreme hardship, but if they put the bounty in the $50.00 notch, then there would be something doing and the hardship would have no terrors to the men who took up the hunt in earnest."

I spent a week with this interesting man. He has over 300 Newhouse traps of all sizes and quite a pile of mink and skunk skins. He said he never trapped for muskrats as he didn't consider them worth while.

His forte being mink, otter, skunk, fox and wild cat, with wolves a side line--although it didn't appear as such to me.

He was greatly interested in my 35 caliber Automatic Winchester rifle and when I fired it a few shots for him, as quick as I could, his eyes stuck out like tea cups. "Say, Hank, you ought to get one." "Not if I know myself, them pop guns is all right for dudes and those fellows with that tired feelin'. Old Betsy is good enough for me." So saying, he took down "Betsy" for my inspection. It was a Sharpe's rifle and a good one, too. It shoots a 45-100 Sharpe's special with a 550 grain ball set trigger, open and peep sights, and weighs 12 pounds. And just to show me how she behaved, he blew a two quart jug off a stump at an estimated distance of 500 yards. "How many deer have you ever killed, Uncle?" I asked. "Well, I can't say, Jack, but give me a dead rest and I can plug a dollar every time at 100 yards."

"Well, for heaven's sake, how many have you shot at?" "Well, I can't tell, Jack, but I must have shot at more than 1,000 of 'em at not over 50 yards."

As a pledge of my friendship, I gave him my Marble pocket axe and knife. It was with a heavy heart that I grasped his honest hand to say good bye--perhaps for the last time on this earth. If so, I sincerely hope to meet him in the "Happy Hunting Grounds" to part no more.

END OF WOLF AND COYOTE TRAPPING