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

When I could cease laughing long enough to tell Smoky what was in the trap, Smoky's change of looks of excitement and anxiety to one of disgust was pitiful. Smoky began to condemn the country and tell how foolish we were to come to such a forsaken place as that was to trap where there was nothing but porcupines.

After resetting the trap we went on to the third trap, which was setting about a mile farther north. It was necessary to cross two narrow ridges in order to reach the trap. Smoky was in a moody state of mind and lagged along behind, hunting partridges, killing two or three.

When we reached the top of the second ridge and the trap was in the hollow beyond, I heard some sort of a noise where the trap was setting, but I was unable to tell what it was. Smoky was behind somewhere on the line, but while I stood listening he came on in great haste. He had heard the same noise and was hurrying up to inquire what it was.

I told him that I was unable to tell just what it was, but was afraid that some dog had got caught in the trap as the sound came from the direction in which the trap was. Smoky said that it was a different noise than he had ever heard a dog make.

I told Smoky that I feared that it was some hound that was in the trap and was making the pitiful sort of a howl and that we must hurry on and get him out of the trap. When we were half way down the side of the hill, the noise ceased, but I could now see that the noise came from some distance farther down the run than where the trap had been set and I knew that no dog could move the trap and clog. We now went a little more quietly. I soon got sight of Bruin rolling and tumbling in a bunch of small birch saplings where the trap clog was fast, good and stout.

Smoky had not got his eye onto the bear yet, when I stopped and pointed in the direction of the bear and said, "Smoky, there is the gentleman that you have been so anxious to see." Smoky had not yet got his eye onto the bear and he said, "That's no darned dog that makes that noise. What is it? I don't see anything." "No, Smoky, it is no dog; neither is it a porky; it is a bear this time all right."

I pointed at the clump of yellow birches and said, "Don't you see him down in the gulch there?" When Smoky got his eye on the bear, you should have seen them sparkle. This was the first bear that Smoky had ever seen outside of captivity. When I told Smoky that we would go up close to the bear and he (Smoky) should shoot it, he again reached the gun to me and again insisted that I should shoot it, saying that he would surely miss it, the same as he declared in the case of the porcupine. I told Smoky that he had plenty of cartridges and that it would be some time before it would be too dark to see to shoot and that he must shoot the bear. It took a great deal of urging to get Smoky to shoot, he declaring all the time that he knew he would miss it.

I said, "Smoky, you must not shoot at the bear but at the base of the bear's ear," which he finally did and Bruin was out of his trouble almost before the smoke from the rifle had cleared away.

The bear was a large one, measuring seven feet two inches from end to end. We were unable to get it out of the woods whole. Smoky insisted that he would carry it if it was as large as a mountain. He soon gave up that idea and we cut the carcass into pieces and took part to camp and returned the next day after the balance. That night after we got to camp with the bear we had for supper bear steak, partridge, rabbit and bacon with warm biscuits and honey, baked potatoes, butter and coffee, with the necessary trimmings, which caused Smoky to remark that the country was all right for a living, but thought that society was rather limited.

The day after we had brought in the remainder of the bear, we could see the smoke from the forest fires that were burning away to the southwest, loom up thick and black. It was plainly to be seen that the fire was steadily working in the direction of our camp and was getting in close proximity to where we had a bear trap setting. I was afraid that the fire would burn sufficiently hard to spoil the trap unless it was taken up, so Smoky said that if I would "mix the muligan" (get supper) that he would go and get the trap, which I readily consented to do, telling Smoky to bring the trap down to a small creek and put the trap in the water.