"Now," said Williams, "the only thing to do is to keep away from here two or three days until a little more snow falls to cover our sign, or is drifted a little by the wind." He used no scent of any kind, saying that "starvation is the best lure in the world." "All I do is to smoke the traps and not handle barehanded," he added.
After two or three days of snow flurrying weather we visited the traps and noted that one was missing. We could see a dim trail where it had been dragged away. We followed and found the fox in a drift. He was poor and had frozen hard. Five were taken at the sheep bait inside of two weeks, after which there came a thaw stopping further snow trapping.
One old trapper tells of a fox that came near outwitting him, being not only the most cunning but also possessing a degree of meanness almost satanic. "I baited him in a bed of chaff several nights," said he, "and then set my trap. The trap could not have contained scent, but the old chap appeared to know it was there; he carefully nosed out and devoured every scrap of bait, and then as deftly dug the trap out, turned it over and sprung it and left a soiling evidence of his scorn and contempt for me upon it. That I was mad you needn't doubt for a minute. I tried setting three and four traps, hoping he'd make a miscue and get into some one of them, but no, he was too smart, he sprung them all each night and insulted me besides. All at once the thought struck me like a brick, I'll set the trap bottom side up. This I did, removing all the traps but one. "The cat came back" and as before turned the trap, bringing it right side up. I had set it full catch so that it would spring rather hard. He slipped a cog in not taking into account that the trap didn't spring when he turned it; when bestowing his disdain a too close contact brought a sharp click and he was fast. I never saw so sneaking and beat out an animal in my life. He would like to have had the ground open up and swallow him if it could."
An acquaintance of mine who is a settler in Northern Michigan heard a great squealing and commotion among his hogs one night late in November, and bounced out just in time to see a large bear drop one of his shoats as it passed through the bars. The porker was stone dead, being bitten through the nape of the neck. The settler, whose name is Clark, drew the pig into the woods and left it between two fallen trees. With his axe he chopped a niche large enough to contain a trap, when set, from each of the logs; a piece of moss was carefully fitted over each cavity and all of the chips were removed.
Foxes there are very numerous, and Clark soon noticed that the bait was being sampled; he knew the fox nature in that they have a habit of walking logs or on the highest points when investigating an attraction. When the tracks to and from and circling the bait became frequent Clark placed a trap on each log, covering them neatly with patches of moss; the chain was fastened to clogs concealed under the logs, and the chains were hidden with strips of moss. Upon his first visit to the traps, two days later, the trapper found a fox in each trap, and several more were taken before crows and other scavengers had polished the bones of the bait.
AFTER THE CHASE.
On the quiet, boys, I will say that it requires so much preparation, caution and patience to successfully trap the red fox that I have more frequently resorted to the hound and shotgun; by this means I have often taken the jacket of a cunning old dog fox, after running him over the hills an hour or two, that it would have taken much time and patience to trap. After one gets the runways learned, and if he possesses a good gun that loads properly, and is a tolerably fair shot at running game, the means is much quicker. It is like digging out a nest of skunks as against the slow process of trapping one at a time.