Fifty Years a Hunter and Trapper / Autobiography, experiences and observations of Eldred Nathaniel Woodcock during his fifty years of hunting and trapping.

by E. N. Woodcock

We asked who was there and the reply was, "Oh get up, two sleeps is better than one any time." I got up and put on my pants and unbuckled the tent door and there stood a half dozen men and as many more dogs. Two of the men had a large demijohn strung on a pole and they were carrying it on their shoulders, two more of the men had coons slung over their shoulders. The boys said that they were out coon hunting and by chance ran into our camp and thought that they would call on us and learn what we were doing. The demijohn contained cider, and the barking of the dogs was caused by getting into trouble over scraps that had been thrown about camp.

We invited the boy in and asked them to tell what luck they had had hunting coon. They said that they had only got the two coons on their way up, but thought that they would do better on their way back down the creek. The boys lived about six miles down the stream. The creek ran close along the wagon road nearly all the way so the boys would follow along the road allowing the dogs to hunt along the creek for coon. The boys concluded to stay and eat their lunch before starting back. We made them a cup of hot coffee and set out a plate of honey and the boys ate their lunch, drank cider, and told stories until nearly 1 o'clock.

They said that they had had a dandy time hunting coon along the last of September while coon were working on the corn and they said that they had killed about 30 and one wildcat. I asked if they did not think September rather early in the season to kill coon? They said that they thought that there was as much sport in it in September as at any other time of the year. I asked if there was any more sport in coon hunting in September than there was later in the season? They said that they did not know that there was. I replied that then they were out at least one-half or more on the price of the skins. They replied that it would be a queer jay that would put off a coon hunt a month for the difference that there might be in the price of a coon skin. I saw that I was up against it and that my argument had no weight in the matter, so I dropped it.

When told that we were putting in our time mostly hunting bees, the boys said that we were losing the best time of our lives by not having some good coon dogs along with us, and Smoky quite agreed with them. However, I could not see it in that light. After the boys left, Smoky and I had to laugh over the boys' jolly time until near daybreak before we could get to sleep again and we quite agreed with the boys that the second sleep was better than the first.

It was now the first of November and we had not put out any small traps, as the weather was still very warm and dry for the season of the year. Each day we could see away off to the southwest by the black heavy smoke that the forest fires that had been burning in that direction were coming nearer and nearer to us. Smoky said that he thought that a coon skin in October was worth as much as in November. He said by the time that we could get our traps out the forest fires would have the whole country burned over and all the game driven out. Smoky was not far from the mark in his prophesying.

We now began to put out the small traps at as good a "jag" as I was able to stand the travel. We had, while bee hunting at odd times, selected and prepared many of the sets so that we were now able to set out many more traps in a day than we could have done had we not fixed and selected many places for sets. The fourth day of November was a very warm day in Potter County, and as we had not tried to get any bees west of camp, I told Smoky that we had better let the balance of the traps go for a day and try the bees in that direction as it was not likely that we would have many more days that bees would fly during the season.

We went about one-half mile west of camp and put out the bee bait and burned more comb. It was not long before a bee came to the bait and then another and another, until we had several at work. As soon as the first bee that came was loaded up and began to make preparations to go, I told Smoky to keep a good eye on him to see which way he went, as the quicker we got a line the quicker we could move on.

When the bee first started from the bait, he jagged off east, then he circled so that neither Smoky nor I could tell which way he went. I told Smoky that I was afraid that the bee went back up the creek toward a tree we had already found. Smoky said that he did not know what made me think so, for no one could tell which direction that bee went. I told Smoky that I had always noticed that the way that the bee first started when leaving the bait was pretty sure to be in the direction of the tree and to get in position so that he could see well if the bee should fly back up the creek as we had no time to spare on bees flying in that direction.

It was not long before we had bees a-plenty and they came from a tree that we had already found. I told Smoky that we would leave some bait there so that those bees would not follow us, and we would move down the creek some distance before we would try for more. We moved nearly a mile, and while I was fixing a stand--there was no stump or good place to set the box--so I cut a stick about four feet long, an inch in diameter and split the top end into four parts, or in other words quartered the stick, then with two small sticks the size of a lead pencil, pressed down in between these quarters. It spread them so as to form plenty of space to set the box on. The other end of the stick is sharpened to drive firmly into the ground. As I was about to say, while I was fixing the stand, Smoky discovered a bee working on a witch-hazel bush close by the stand. Smoky said that he thought that the bee must have the rheumatism and was gathering Pond's Extract to bathe his joints in (it is with this shrub that Pond's Extract is made) and this was the cause of Smoky making the remark, I suppose.

It was necessary to burn comb here as we soon had three or four bees at work on the bait and in a short time we had bees a-plenty. They flew just to the right of the wagon road in a westerly direction and on to the side of a very steep hill where there was considerable standing timber. We soon got the course of the bees' flight, but there seemed to be two lines, as some of the bees would fly to the left of a large tree that stood Just on the bank of the road, while others would fly to the right of the tree. This caused Smoky to remark that we had another sticky job on our hands, saying that there was two different lines. I told Smoky that I thought not. It was all the same bees and that the bees would soon all be flying to the left or lower side of the tree.