I had never yet seen one of these creatures, but had often heard hunters and trappers tell what pests they were, following them on their rounds, robbing and tearing up their traps almost as rapidly as they could set them. Indeed, I had read in Baird's—I believe it was Baird's—Works on Natural History, that the fisher-cat, or mustela canadensis, is a very fierce carnivorous animal of the weasel family, a most determined fighter and more than a match for a common hound.
Well, I had nothing to do but to set the traps again, a task which I did in the course of the day, really hoping that the beast had merely paid the place a transient visit, and gone on upon his wanderings.
But the next morning showed my hopes were vain, for he had "gone through" my line again, and every trap was upset. It really seemed as if the "varmint" had taken a malicious delight in tearing them to pieces.
At one of the traps a fine sable had been caught, and as if for very mischief the marauder had torn the beautiful skin, which was worth ten or a dozen dollars, to shreds.
Surely, if there is a business in the world that demands patience and perseverance, it is trapping. At least it took about all I could summon to go resignedly to work, make new spindles, catch fresh bait, and set the traps again, especially with the prospect of having the same task to perform the next morning.
I went at it, however, and by eleven o'clock had them all reset save one, the upper one, where the sable had been caught, when, on approaching it through the thick spruces, I saw a large raccoon gnawing the sable's head. Seeing me at the same instant, he caught up the head, and before I could unsling my gun scuttled away out of sight.
Was it possible that a 'coon had been doing all this mischief? I knew them to be adepts at a variety of woods tricks, but had never heard of their robbing traps before. Here was one caught gnawing a sable's head in the vicinity of the broken traps. Circumstantial evidence, as they say in court, was strong against him.
I determined to watch—that trap, at least.
Going over to our camp on the lake, I took a hasty lunch, and putting a fresh charge into my gun went back to the ravine. A few rods from the place where I had surprised the 'coon there was a thick clump of low spruces. Here I hid myself and began my watch.
The afternoon dragged away. Crows and hawks cawed and screamed; kingfishers and squirrels chickered and chirred, but no animal came near the traps. The sun was setting behind the high, black mountain, twilight began to dim the narrow valley.