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

Smoky wished to know how I made that out. I explained that I thought the bees were around the point of the hill and up a side draft that came into the main hollow some sixty rods below where we were and that the bees that were flying to the right of the tree flew in a direct line to the tree by flying up over the point of the hill then down into the hollow; those that flew to the left of the tree flew around the point of the hill and up the hollow to their tree. Smoky laughed at my idea and said that bees always flew in a straight line--does not everybody say as straight as a bee-line?

I told Smoky that was all very well in a level and open country. That a bee knew that it was no farther around the rim of a kettle than up over the bail; that a bee was far too wise to carry a load up over a hill when he could get there in the same distance on a level; that bees in their flight would often vary their course and fly along the side of a hill to keep out of a strong wind until they were nearly opposite the tree, when they would make nearly a square turn to the tree. That they would also vary their flight from a straight line to follow an opening as a road cut out through the thick woods.

The flight of the bees, as I suspected, was soon all to the left of the tree standing on the bank of the road. We moved the bait down to the mouth of the side draft and soon had a line flying nearly up the hollow. I told Smoky to take the bees some forty rods up the hollow and make a stand while I would follow and inspect the trees that looked favorable. Soon Smoky halloed to me and said that the bees had nearly all left him. I told him to make the stand where he was. As he had passed the tree that was the cause of the bees dropping off all at once.

Just below where Smoky was and a little up on the bank from the hollow stood a large maple tree. I started to inspect the tree. Bees were flying all about me and as soon as I was near enough to the tree to see, I could see bees flying all about the tree, some forty feet from the ground. I called to Smoky and told him that the bees were treed in a large maple.

This was on the fourth day of November and was a very rare thing for bees to be working at that time of the year in this section of the country. This tree made the sixth bee tree that we had found while in camp.

This ended our bee hunting and we now put in the balance of the time, while in camp, with the traps. It will now be necessary to go back to the 20th of October to a time that Smoky said was the biggest day of his life.

On the 20th of October we started out to look at the bear traps with little hopes of getting anything more than a porcupine. Up to this time we had not seen any signs of bear, only what had been made during the summer, where the bear had dug out woodchucks and torn old logs to pieces in search of grubs, and where they had dug wild turnips. These signs were so old that we had but little hopes of getting a bear while in camp and Smoky was continually condemning the country.

We went up along a hollow that led to the top of a high ridge where we had a bear trap setting and where I thought was the most likely place to catch a bear, but found the trap undisturbed.

We next crossed a narrow ridge where we had another trap. The trap was set in a spring run and the banks on either side of the run were quite thickly grown up with low brush. Smoky was in advance a few steps so that when he came to the edge of the thick brush that grew on the bank of the run, parted the brush and looked through at the trap, he caught a glimpse of some black object moving in the run. He quickly stepped back and held up his hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement and he whispered to me, "By Moses, we have got him." Smoky being given to much joking, I asked, "What have we got?" for I had not heard any noise of any kind. Smoky said, "A bear, by long horn spoon-handle." I stepped past Smoky and looked through the brush and there was a large black porcupine moving about a little in the trap.

I stepped back and said to Smoky, "Well, shoot him." Smoky said, "No, I will miss him. You shoot him," at the same time handing me the gun. I now saw that Smoky was in earnest and surely thought we had a bear and I burst out with laughter. Smoky was amazed and said, "You blooming simpleton, what is the matter with you?" The look of anxiety and the manner in which Smoky spoke still caused me to laugh the harder.