I will state that I began my career as a trapper and hunter at a very early age. The woods extended to the very door of my father's house and deer were more numerous than sheep in the fields at the present day. Bear were also quite plentiful and wolves were to be found in considerable numbers in certain localities. Panthers were much talked of and occasionally one would be killed by some hunter or trapper of which I will speak later.
It was not long before I found my way further up the stream into the woods where mink and coon tracks were in real paths, and here was where father taught me how to make the deadfall, which was the trap principally used in those days.
The guns that father had were one double barrel shotgun and a single barrel rifle, both flintlocks, and with much anxiety I watched those guns and begged of the older members of the family to let me shoot the gun but mother was ever on the watch to see that I was not allowed to handle the guns.
About this time a man moved into the place by the name of Abbott from Schuylkill County, Pa., who brought two guns with him, a double barrel shotgun and a double barrel rifle. After doing some hard begging Mr. Abbott said that I could take the shotgun but that he could not furnish the ammunition. I later thought that Mr. Abbott thought that the problem of getting ammunition would put me up the tree. But again the will was good and I soon found a way. I began to watch the hen's nests pretty close and hide away the eggs and mother began to complain that the hens were not laying as many eggs as usual. Well, three dozen of eggs would get a pound of shot, a fourth of a pound of powder and a box of G. D. gun caps.
I had some fine times out with the gun and I always gave Mr. Abbott whatever game I killed. I did not dare to take it home fearing that I would be compelled to explain how I came by the game. One day I had been out after wild pigeons and had got quite a number or more than I liked to give away and go without ourselves. I thought I would resort to one of those white lies that we have all heard tell of. I told my parents that Mr. Abbott gave me the pigeons but the plan did not work, although it was the making of me so far as a gun is concerned.
When father inquired of Mr. Abbott as to how I got the pigeons it brought out the whole thing as to the gun business and also why the egg basket had not filled up as usual. The result was that father and mother held a council of war and decided that if I was to have a gun the better way was to let me have one of my own. Father told me that I must not borrow a gun any more but take one of our own guns and that he (father) would take the gun to the gunsmith and have the locks changed from a flint lock to a cap lock.
You may be sure that this was the best news that this kid ever heard. I picked up double the usual stone piles that day and went and got the cows without being told a half dozen times.
Well, as every hunter and trapper who is born and not made is always looking for taller timber and trying to get farther and farther from the ting-tong of the cow bells, so it was in my case. I had seen some whelp wolves that friends of ours (Harris and Leroy Lyman, who were noted hunters) had got. They had gone onto the waters of the Sinnemahoning and taken five pup wolves not much larger than kittens, from their den. The puppies were brought out alive but they killed the old mother wolf. On their way home they stopped at our house so that we could see the young wolves.
I heard these hunters tell how they discovered the wolf den; how they had howled in imitation of a wolf to call the old wolves up; how they had shot the old female and had then taken the young wolves from the den; heard them tell of the money that the bounty on wolves would bring them (there was $25 bounty on all wolves then, the same as now). All of this made me long for the day when I would be old enough to do as these noted hunters had done.
I had already found a den of young foxes and had kept five of them alive, which father finally killed all but one because he said they were a nuisance. I had seen some Indians bring a live elk in with ropes, dogs and horses, which they had roped in, after the dogs had brought it to bay, on a large rock on Tombs Run (Waters of Pine Creek).
All this made me hungry for the day that I too could hit the trail and trap line that I might get some of those wolves and with the bounty money buy traps and guns to my satisfaction.
A number of persons at our place (Lymansville) had gone several miles into the woods to the headwaters of the Sinnamahoning and taken up fifty acres of land. An acre or two was cleared off and the timber from this clearing was drawn and put in an immense pile to be used for the camp fire. The camp was simply a shed or leanto, open on one side, and in front of this shed the fire was built of beech and maple logs. Brook trout and game of all kinds were in abundance. Two or three times during the summer a party of six or eight persons would go out to this clearing and camp a week, killing as many deer as they could make use of, jerking a good portion to take home with them and having a general good time feasting on trout, venison and other game, and amusing themselves shooting at marks, pitching quoits, etc. I will add that the main reason they went to this camp was for a good time rather than the game, as game was plentiful right at their homes in those days.
Well, it was at one of these outings that I killed my first bear. I was about thirteen years old, and, of course, in my own mind, it made a mighty hunter of me, not to be compared with Esau of old. It was in June and shortly after we got to camp there was a heavy thunder storm, but it all passed over before sundown, the sun coming out nice and bright. I was determined to go with some of the men to watch a lick (there were three or four licks not far away), but none of the men cared to have my company, and they said it was likely to rain again and made many excuses why I should not go to watch a lick with them. Just before they were ready to start out to the lick we heard a wolf howl away off on the hills and they (the men) put up the wolf scare on me and said that there would be no deer come to the lick so long as wolves were in the neighborhood. I took their stories all in but insisted that I would watch a lick all the same. There was a lick only a few hundred yards from camp, but for some cause deer rarely ever worked it. When they saw that I was going to watch a lick in spite of thunder storms, wolves or all the rest of the excuses that they could make, they finally said that I could watch the lick which I have mentioned and get eaten up by wolves.
There was a blazed line from camp to the lick and when the men started for the licks that each one had decided on watching, I started to the lick that was given me to watch.
There was one man left in camp to watch the horses and to keep camp. This man said that when he heard me shoot he would come up and help me bring in the deer.
The blind at the lick was a scaffold built up in a tree twenty or thirty feet from the ground. I climbed to the scaffold and placed the old gun in the loops that were fastened to limbs on the tree to give the gun the proper range to kill the deer, should one come to the lick after it was too dark to see to shoot.
Nothing came round the lick before dark, but as soon as it got dark I could hear animals walking and jumping on all sides of me and one old inquisitive porcupine came up the tree to see what I was doing. He perched himself on a limb not more than two feet from my face and sat there and chattered his teeth until I could stand it no longer. I took the large powder horn that I had strung over my shoulder with a cord and gave the porcupine a rap on the nose that sent him tumbling down the tree. I remember well how other animals scampered from under the tree when the porcupine tumbled down. At that time I wondered what it all was, but later I learned that all these animals were only flying squirrels, rabbits and porcupines, but I imagined that the noises were made by anything but squirrels and rabbits.
Well, about eleven o'clock I heard something coming towards the lick with a steady tread like that of a man and again I was taken with a chill that caused the scaffold to shake, but the chill only lasted for a moment. Soon I heard the animal step in the soft mud and directly it began to suck the salt from the dirt and I was sure that it was a deer and that it was the right time to pull the trigger, which I did. When the report of the gun died away all that I could hear were the same noises that were made when I knocked the old porcupine from the tree. I now feared that I had pulled the gun on some other animal rather than a deer. I thought the report of the gun would frighten all the deer in the woods, so that no deer would go to the licks the men were watching. I was afraid I would get a terrible scolding by the men who were watching the other licks when they came to camp in the morning.
After waiting some time and hearing no noise of any kind, I concluded to get down and go to camp. Upon getting down from the tree I decided that I would go and look in the lick and see if I could tell what it was that I had heard there and had shot at. As it was so dark that I could not see from the blind, you can imagine my surprise when I got to the lick to see a large buck deer lying broadside as dead as could be.
I immediately lost all fear of being scolded by the other men, so I claimed first blood. I began calling for the man who remained in camp but could get no answer from him so I went down to camp and found him fast asleep. I awakened him and we immediately made a torch and went to the lick and dragged the deer to camp. Then we took out the entrails and bunked down for the rest of the night.
The next thing that I knew, one of the men who had watched a lick not far away was kicking me and saying, "Get out of this, you old deer slayer, you, and get some venison frying for breakfast." We were soon up for the sun was shining brightly and more than an hour high. Soon the other watchers came in and reported that not a sound of a deer had they heard about their licks. Two or three of us (I say "us" because I was now counted as one of them) went to catch trout for breakfast, while the others were at work taking care of the venison and preparing breakfast, boiling coffee, frying venison and trout. And so the day was spent, sleeping, cocking and eating until it was again time to go to the licks, as the men wished to get another deer so as to have plenty of venison to take home with them. When the men were about ready to start to their watching places, one of them inquired of me what I would do as there was no further use of watching the lick where I had killed the deer, as it was blooded from the deer I had killed.
The man who had watched the lick nearest the camp, and quite an old man, said that I could watch the lick that he had watched and he would stay in camp. (The men now acknowledged me as a thoroughbred hunter, you see.) Well, I was getting there pretty lively, I thought, when an old hunter would give up his lick to me, when only the evening before none of the men thought that I was up to watching a lick at any price.
I was pleased to again have a place to watch. Taking some punk wood to make a little smoke to keep off the gnats and mosquitoes, I started for the lick and climbed the Indian ladder to the scaffold, built in a hemlock tree.
I had barely got fixed in shape to begin to watch when I chanced to look towards a small ravine that came down from the hill a few yards to my left and saw what I took to be a black yearling steer. I will add that the woods in that locality were covered with a rank growth of nettles, cow cabbage and other wood's feed, and people would drive their young cattle off into that locality to run during the summer. I thought I would get down from the scaffold and throw stones at it and drive it off lest it might come into the lick after dark and I might take it for a deer and shoot it.
As I started to climb down I again looked in the direction of the steer, and this time I saw what I thought was the largest bear that ever traveled the woods. He had left the ravine and was walking with his head down, going up the hill and past the lick. I cocked both barrels of the gun and raised it carefully to my shoulder, and, breaking a little dry twig I had in my hand caused the bear to stop and turn his head around so as to look down the hill. This was my time so I leveled on his head and shoulders and let go both barrels of the gun at once.
The bear went into the air and then began tumbling and rolling down the hill towards the tree that I was in, bawling and snorting like mad. But if the bear made a howl from pain he was in, it was no comparison to the howl that I made for help and it did not cease until the men in camp came on the run thinking that I had accidentally shot myself. Well, this was my first bear and it was the greatest day of my life.
We took the bear to camp, skinned and dressed it and then went to bunk for the night, but it was very little I slept for I could only think what a mighty hunter I was (in my mind).
The men came in in the morning with no better luck than they had the night before, and they all declared that if I had not been with them they would have had to go without venison.
The men said that we had meat in plenty now and that we would not watch the licks any more that time, so they put in their time jerking the venison and also some of the bear meat. They built a large fire of hemlock bark, and when it was burned down to a bed of coals so that there was no longer any smoke, they made a rack or grate of small poles, laid in crotches driven in the ground, so as to have the grate over the coals, and then laid the slices of venison on this grate and stood green bark about the grate to form a sort of an oven. The strips of meat were first sprinkled with salt and wrapped up in the skin from the deer and allowed to remain wrapped in the skin for a few hours until the salt would strike through the meat so as to make it about right as to salt.
The men remained in camp about a week. They would shoot at a mark, pitch quoits and have jumping contests and other amusements, including fishing, eating trout, venison and bear meat along with toasted bread and coffee and potatoes roasted in the ashes.
The time had arrived when I thought that I must take to the taller timber to trap and hunt. I searched among the boys of my age, in the neighborhood, for a partner who would go with me to the Big Woods, as the section where I wished to go, was called. I finally found a pard who said he would go with me and stay as long as I cared to.
The middle of October came. We packed our knapsacks with a grub stake, a blanket or two, and taking our guns started for the Big Woods, with a feeling that is not known to those who are not lovers of the wild.
As we only had a limited number of steel traps it was our intention to spend the first week in camp, building deadfalls for coon and mink and use the steel traps for fox. Our intention was to build as many deadfalls as we would be able to attend to before we baited and set any of them. We had built our traps on many of the small brooks and streams to the south and east of the camp, and had built traps on the stream on which the camp was located nearly a mile below camp.
About a mile and a half below camp there was another branch coming in from the north. Pard and I started early one morning to finish the line of traps on the camp stream and then go up the stream that came from the north and build as many traps as we could during the balance of the day. We had finished the line of traps on the camp stream, and had built a trap or two on the other branch, when pard complained of having a bad headache, but refused to go to camp. We built another trap or two, when pard consented to go to camp, if I would build another trap on a little spring run where coon signs were plentiful, which I readily consented to do. When I got the trap done it was nearly sundown.
It was about three miles to camp so I hurried to see how pard was feeling. I had not gone more than a half mile on my way from where pard turned back to go to camp, when I found him lying on the ground. He said that he was feeling so sick that he was unable to go any further and complained that every bone in his body ached.
After explaining to pard the conditions under which we were placed, it was with difficulty that I managed to get him up, and by supporting and half carrying him I managed to get him along a few rods at a time. I could see that he was continually growing worse. After I had helped until we were within about three-quarters of a mile of camp, he begged me to let him lie down and rest. I tried to urge him along by explaining that I must go for a team to get him out of the woods, and that I could not leave him lying there on the damp ground. It was of no use; I could not get him to go any further. While I was somewhat older than pard, he was much the heavier, and I was unable to carry him.
Taking in the situation, there was only one thing for me to do and that was to leave him and go for help. After making him promise that as soon as he rested he would work his way to camp I took off my coat, and put it under him, again making him promise to get to camp, I started for help.
The night was dark and it was miles through the woods to the first house. When I came to camp I stopped long enough to get a bite to eat which I took in my hand. After lighting a fire so if pard did manage to get to camp he would have a good fire, I started for help. Wherever the light would get through the trees enough so that I could see the path, I would take a trot. After the first mile and a half I came to the turnpike road where I could make better time although it was dense woods. After about six or seven miles I reached the first clearing and from there the rest of the way was more or less clearings and I could see the road better and was able to make better time.
I reached pard's home about a mile before I came to my home, rattled at the door and called for pard's father. I told him the condition of his son. He requested me to go to my home and get some of my family to take a team and start back at once after his son; he would go after a doctor and have the doctor there when we got back with the boy. I lost no time in getting started back. We could not get nearer than a mile and a half to the camp, as we were obliged to leave the wagon road at that point, and go down a very steep hill and only a trail cut through the woods. When we reached the camp, contrary to expectations, we found Orlando (that was pard's name) lying in the bunk in camp but he said that he was feeling no better. It was after midnight and we lost no time in getting him on one of the horses and started back to the wagon which we reached with some difficulty. On reaching the wagon we laid him on a straw bed which we had brought for the purpose and got back to his home sometime after daybreak.
The doctor was there and after examining pard said he feared it was a bad case of fever. I waited a few days to see if he would be able to go back to camp and then the doctor told me that he would not be out of bed in two months and advised me to keep out of the woods or I would be brought out on a stretcher. I had my mind on all those deadfalls that we had built and all the coon, mink and fox that we could catch, and was determined to go back to camp notwithstanding our friend's advice to the contrary. After looking around for another partner which I was unable to find as no one wished to go and stay longer than a day or two (what we call summer trappers), I again packed my knapsack and went back to camp. The next morning, after catching a good lot of trout for coon and mink bait, I began the work of setting the hundred or more deadfalls that pard and I had built. As soon as I had all the deadfalls set I hunted up good places to set the traps that we had. I was so busy all the time that there was no chance to get lonesome. Every day there were coon and mink to skin and stretch. Now and then a big, old coon was so strong that he would tear the deadfall to pieces and I would be compelled to build it all over and make it stronger.
What a difference there is now with the many styles of traps and the H-T-T to guide the young hunter and trapper. If I could have had a couple dozen of the No. 1 1/2 Victor traps made as at the present time, I would have been as proud as a small boy with a new pair of boots, although I think what was lacking in modern traps was fully made up by the number of furbearing animals.
I had been so busy during the two weeks I was in camp that I had forgotten the day of the week; neither did I take time to kill a deer or to go up to the road to see if anyone had written, to see if I was dead or alive. There was a stage passed over the road twice a week. I had nailed a box with a good tight lid on a tree by the road so that I could send a line out home for anything I wanted or my family could write to me.
I had two or three traps set for foxes up towards the road along the edge of a laurel patch where there were plenty of rabbits and the foxes worked around to catch rabbits. I thought I would go to the road and be there about the time the stage passed along and see if I could hear anything from pard and the folks at home and then I could tend the traps on my way back to camp.
I was at the road shortly before the stage came along and was surprised as well as delighted to see a neighbor boy by the name of Frank Curtis aboard the stage as he had said he would come over and stay a day or two with me in camp. Frank had not been allowed to spend much time with a gun or traps, but like most boys, he liked a gun. My mother died before I was eleven years old and father allowed me to trap and hunt about as I liked.
When we got down near the traps we set our packs down--I say we, for my folks had sent me a new supply of provisions--and went to look after the traps. The first one had a rabbit leg in it and it was plain to be seen that some animal had eaten the rabbit. We reset the trap and went on to the next trap which was set in a little gorge or hollow. A few yards below the trap two large trees had blown down across the little hollow. The tree on the side farthest down the hill from the trap had broken in two where it fell over the hollow and dropped down so that it laid close to the ground while the tree on the upper side, the side nearest the trap, lay a foot from the ground in the hollow.
The trees were two or three feet apart right at the hollow but were close together on one side. When we came to where the trap had been set we found trap and drag gone and nothing in sight. We soon discovered the animal which we supposed was a coon, had gone down the ravine toward the two large trees that had fallen across the hollow. We went to the logs and looked between them. There we could see the clog but the animal was crowded back under the logs so we could see but little of it.
Frank said that he would get between the logs and poke the coon out. I told him that he had better let me go, as I was afraid that he would take a hold of the clog and pull the trap loose from the coon's foot, but Frank grabbed a stick and jumped between the logs. He had hardly struck the ground when he gave a fearful yell and there was a spitting, snarling animal close at his heels. He scrambled out from between the logs, as white as a sheet. I then saw that it was a wildcat and a mad one. I cut a good stout stick and while Frank stood on the bank with his gun, I poked the cat from under the log by punching it, until Frank could see it enough to shoot it. We pulled the cat out from between the logs, took the trap from its foot, reset it and took the cat with our traps and went to camp, declaring in our minds that there was no other such mighty trappers as we.
Frank declared that he was nearly famished with hunger so we had supper and then skinned the cat. We did not sleep much that night as Frank had to tell me all about things at home. He also told me that pard was no better. Every time an owl would hoot, or a rabbit or porcupine or a mouse would make a noise in the leaves, Frank would give me a punch and ask what it was. Frank remained three days in camp and then he took the stage back home, that being as long as his parents would allow him to stay. I went to the road to see him off. When leaving he made many declarations that he would come back to camp, although he never did.
The snow now began to lie on the ground as it fell and it began to get cold at night. Coon did but little traveling and some way, after Frank had been over to camp and stayed those three days, I seemed to get homesick. I had not become expert enough to make a business of deer hunting and marten and bear trapping, so I sprung the deadfalls and took up the few steel traps that I had and began to take my furs and other plunder to the road to take the stage home. After going home I went to school for a few weeks.
I no longer remember how many coon, mink and other furs I caught, but it was quite a bunch for furs were very plentiful in those days.
Comrades, as I have not been able to trap any for the past two years--1905 and 1906--and as I have previously served for more than 50 years almost without cessation, along the trap line, I beg to be admitted to your ranks as one of the "Hasbeens."
I will therefore tell of one of my trips on a hunting and trapping expedition in the fall and winter of 1865-6, a party of two besides myself. My two companions' names were Charles Manly and William Howard. We started about the 15th of October for Coudersport with a team of horses and wagon loaded with the greater part of our outfit and went to Emporium, Cameron County, where we hit the Philadelphia and Erie Railroad. The only railroad that touched Northwestern Pennsylvania at that time. Here we took the railroad to Kane, a town in Southwestern McKean County, where we stopped one day and made purchases for three months' camping. We hired a good team here to take our outfit about seven or eight miles on to Kinzua Creek.
Almost the entire distance was through the woods and over the rock. There was no sign of a road only as we went ahead of the team and cut a tree or log here and there. The outfit was lashed onto a bobsled, and as we had bargained with the man to make the trip for a stated price, he did not seem to care whether there was any road or not, so that he got through as quickly as possible.
We reached the stream about noon. The man fed his team some oats, swallowed a few mouthsful himself and was soon on his way back to town, while we began laying plans for our camp. We selected a spot on a little rise of ground near a good spring of water, and where there was plenty of small yellow birch trees handy to cut logs out of for camp. We placed a good sized log down first at the end of the shanty that we intended to build the fire place in. Another was placed at the end that was to be the highest, so to give the right slope to the roof, which was a shed roof. We always kept the large ends of the logs one way, so that when we had the logs rolled up it made the lower or eaves end of the camp about five feet high.
There was a slope of about two feet for the roof. We felled bass wood trees which we split in half, and then dug or scooped them out so as to make a trough. We notched the two end logs down and then placed the scoops or troughs in these notches so that they would lay firm with the hollow side up.
After placing these scoops across the entire width of the shack we then placed another layer of the scoops (reverse) on the first set. That is to say, the rounding side up. This made a very good roof but required a good deal of chinking at the ends to keep the cold out, but as moss was plenty, it was not a long job. The second day after we got into the woods we had the camp in pretty good shape, well chinked and calked.
The third day we worked on the fire place, laying it up to the jam of stone, then we finished the chimney with logs and mud. We had a fairly comfortable camp with but two exceptions. These were, no windows, and for a door we had what I called a "hoghole," that was a door so small that one had to get down on all fours to get in or out. On the fourth day we intended to cut wood all day, and were at it before it was fairly light, but before 10 o'clock it began to snow. In a couple of hours there was a good tracking snow and the boys were bound to go out and see if they could not kill a deer. I tried hard to get them to stick to the wood job, but it was no use, they must go hunting.
There was no partnership business in this hunt. It was every man for himself, and the dogs, take the hindermost. I told the boys I would stay in camp and do something at the wood job.
I had been along the creek a little the day before, poking my nose under the banks and old drifts to see what manner of signs I could see, and I had noticed several mink tracks. The boys had no more than gone when I had a fishing tackle rigged out. It consisted of a line braided from horsehair, out of a horse's tail, and a hook baited with some bits of fat pork. It did the business, for the stream fairly swarmed with trout. Taking three or four trout for bait, I was soon at work building deadfalls. It was not long before I had three or four built close up under the banks and behind logs where I thought the boys would not see them.
I then scampered back to camp and went to cutting wood like a good boy. I had only just got to camp when I heard a gun shot away up the creek, and in about an hour Charley came dragging a yearling deer. Will did not show up for some time after dark, but had nothing, though he said that he had a fair standing shot at a large buck, but his gun snapped on him and he lost.
The next morning we were out at the peep of day, each one going his own way. I went down the creek so that I could take a peep at my traps. None had been disturbed until I came to the last one. There, to my satisfaction, I found a mink. As I had passed a small run that emptied into the main creek I noticed that some animal had gone over a pole that lay across a little run and partly in the water. The animal had brushed the snow off the pole in going over it. I gave it no particular attention, thinking that it was a coon, but when I got the mink I thought I would go back to camp, make a stretching board and stretch the mink skin and get a trap and set at the run for the coon, as I supposed.
I will mention that furs were bringing about the same prices then as at the present time, 1907, a good No. 1 mink being worth about $10.
Near the camp was a large elm tree that was hollow, and the fire had burned a hole out on one side up the tree, nearly as high as a man's head. After I had stretched the mink skin I hung it up in this hollow tree, and it was a very good place to dry the pelts that I caught. The boys never mistrusted that I was doing any trapping for small game.
To get back to my job, I took one out of three steel traps No. 3, and all the traps that we had brought with us. In fact, the other boys did not care to trap. When I got back at the run I gave more attention to the trail of the supposed coon, and discovered that it was an otter. With greater caution I waded up the run until I found a suitable place to set the trap, knowing that he would be back that way again sooner or later.
After setting the trap I climbed the ridge to look for deer and got two shots during the afternoon but missed both. All came to camp that night without killing any deer. I had seen a number of marten tracks during the afternoon. The next morning it was thawing and the boys feared they would lose the tracking snow, so Charley and Will hurried to localities where they expected to find deer. I sliced some strips of venison from the fore-quarters, or rather what was left of the fore-quarters, of the deer Charley had killed the first day out. I made tracks to the ridge where I had seen the marten tracks, and I lost no time in putting up deadfalls at the best pace I was capable of getting into.
In the afternoon on my way to camp I came to the creek some ways below where I had set the mink traps, so I put up two or three more deadfalls for mink. I also found a big flood drift which otter were using for their feeding grounds. I selected places to set the other two steel traps which were in camp, and then went to camp, looking at the mink traps on the way, but found that none had been disturbed.
When I got to camp I found both Charley and Will there, and each had killed a deer. Will had killed a good sized buck close to camp, so he dragged it down to the shanty to dress and hang up. The boys gave me the laugh because I had not killed any deer. I told them to hold their breath and I would get into the harness after a bit. In the morning the snow was all gone and the boys were afraid that it was going to get so warm that their venison would spoil. Cuts were drawn to see which one of them should go to Kane to get a team to take out their venison. It fell on Charley. They tried to have me join in the draw, but I told them that I did not see where I came in as I had no venison to spoil.
The weather kept warm for several days, so I kept building deadfalls on the different ridges for marten and along the creek for mink and coon. Charley and Will continued to still hunt, killing several deer. When the snow came again I had all the traps up I intended to build, but it turned out that later I built two deadfalls for bear. I now put in my time still hunting, shaping my course as much as possible so as to tend to my traps. I killed a deer occasionally as did the other boys. I set the two steel traps on the drift where I had seen the otter signs, and the second time I looked at them I found an otter tangled up in one of the traps.
I was also getting mink, marten and coon now and then, and occasionally I would get two mink or marten in one day. I would cut a long slender withe to stretch the skins over, bending them in the form of a stretching board the best I could and hang the pelts in the old elm tree and kept mum. I remembered the old adage, "he that laughs last, laughs best," and was bound to have the last laugh.
One night Will came in and said that a bear had eaten up the offal where he had dressed a deer. I asked him if he was going to set a trap for him, and he said that he had no trap to set. I told him to build a deadfall. Will said that I could have that job if I wanted it. I told him all right if he would tell me where to find the place. He said that he would go with me in the morning and show me. In the morning I took the best axe, some bait and went with Will to the place where the bear had eaten the offal. We saw that the bear had been back there during the night and cleaned up the remains left the previous night.
I selected a good sized beech tree, where I could fell it so that I could cut a piece from the butt for the bottom piece and have the remainder of the tree come so that I could use a small tree for one of the stakes or posts. When I pulled off my coat and began chopping on the tree Will gave me the laugh again, and said that I had more days' work in me than brains, or something to that effect.
It was my intention to get the trap all ready and then get one of the boys to help me set it. I got the trap done and saw that by using a long lever or pry I could set the trap without the aid of another. With the pry I raised the dead piece up as high as I wanted it. Then tied the lever to a sapling to hold the dead log in place, using the figure four trigger. I placed a bit of log in the bait pen to rest the bait spindle on. I then placed the trigger in place and pressed them between the logs to steady them until I could release the lever and let the weight onto the trigger. I then put some poles onto the dead log to make doubly sure that I had weight enough to kill any bear that traveled those woods. I now went to camp giving myself credit of doing a good job.
When the boys came in the night of the day I built the first deadfall for bear, they both reported seeing bear tracks and they said the tracks all seemed to be going south. I told the boys that the bear were looking up winter quarters, and that if we would all go at it and put up several deadfalls we would stand a fair chance to get a bear or two, but it was no go.
They said they would give me a clean title to all the bear I could catch, but they did not care to invest. So I took the axe and some bait and went to the head of a small draft where the boys had seen the bear tracks. I found at the head of this hollow what seemed to be a bear runway or crossing, for three or four bears had passed around the head of this basin in the past few days.
With some hard work and heavy lifting I got another good deadfall built that day. The next day I went the rounds of the marten and mink traps, and I think I killed a deer and got two marten. I remember that at this time we had a good snow to hunt on, and that it was not an uncommon thing for us to cut wood for the camp long after dark, and sometimes it was pretty scant at that. I think it was the third day after I had set the first bear trap when Will came in, shortly after Charley and I had got to camp, and as he stuck his head through the hoghole (as I called the substitute for a door) he says, a fool for luck.
I suspicioned what was coming and said, "Well, what kind of luck have you had?"
Will said, "It is not me that has had the luck, but you have got one of the Jed-blasted bears up there in that rigging you built, you ever see."
I remember that I had some kind of a hipo that night, so that I would laugh every now and then "kindy" all by myself. I do not think that I slept much that night, though it was not the first bear I had ever caught. I thought it was beginning to look as though the laugh was coming my way all right.
In the morning the boys went to the trap with me and helped get the bear out of the trap and helped set the trap again, and then went on with their deer hunting. I went to skinning the bear, and it was all I did that day to skin that bear and stretch the skin on the shanty. I told the boys when they came in that night that I thought we were going to have a hard winter, and so I concluded to weatherboard the camp with bear skins. The carcass of the bear was, of course, a complete loss, and that is a serious objection to the deadfall as a bear trap.
I think that it was about this time that Will met with an accident in his foot gear, so he went out to Kane after a pair of gum shoes. At this time we had several deer so thought it best to have the team come in and take them out and ship them.
When Will came back that evening he said that some kind of an animal had crossed the path about one-half mile from camp, dragging something. He said that he could not make up his mind what it was, but thought it was some kind of an animal in a trap, but we knew of no one trapping in that locality.
I did not know but it might be possible that some animal had gotten in one of my otter traps and had broken the chain and gone off with the trap. Early in the morning I went down the creek to look at the traps and see if they were all right. When I came to the Spring Run I saw that my otter (or at least I called it my otter), had again gone up the run, on his usual round of travel. When I came to where the trap was it wasn't there at all.
I had fastened the trap to a root that was two or three inches under water and a root that I supposed sound. I was mistaken, for the root was pretty doty and the otter had broken the root and gone with my trap. I lost no time in taking up the chase. The trail led up this run to its source, then over a spur of ridge and down the hill again into a branch of the main stream, then up this branch for a distance of a mile or more, where I came up with him.
He had gone under the roots of a large hemlock tree, and it took me two or three hours to get him out with nothing to work with only my belt axe and a sharpened stake. It was nearly night when I got to camp. I made a stretching board from a spault I split out of a basswood log and stretched the otter skin, and put in the balance of the day in chopping wood. One of the boys killed three deer that day. I do not remember which one it was.
The next day I made the rounds of nearly all the traps and got what I have many a time before--nothing. I put in three or four days still hunting and had the luck to kill a deer or two, but Charley and Will killed more than I did. I remember, during this time, they were all the time joking me because they were getting more deer than I did. I claimed that they had the best grounds to hunt on, they hunting east of the camp and up nearer the head of the stream, while I hunted west of the camp.
We would see bear tracks nearly every day, and Will and Charley would try to get around in their hunting course so as to look at the two bear traps, the traps being in the direction in which they hunted. They found the traps undisturbed. I had about made up my mind that I would get no more bear that trip. I was getting a marten, mink or coon now and then, so that I kept a stiff upper lip if the boys did kill a few deer more than I did. Finally one night when I came to camp I found the carcass of a bear, skin and all lying at the shanty door. I thought it was one that either Charley or Will had killed. I found that the boys by chance had met near one of the bear traps, and going to the trap found the bear. As it was a small one they took it out, set the trap and brought the bear to camp.
It was now getting along in December and the snow was getting rather deep and the weather was pretty cold and the game did not move about very much. We all seemed to get a little lazy, and did not get out till after noon. In fact, some days, if the weather was pretty sharp, we did not go out at all but would stay in camp and talk of the hunt and tell where we thought we could find a bunch of deer over in this basin or on that ridge.
The most of the deadfalls set I had not covered so to keep the snow off. A good many of them had snowed under, so I did not care how soon we broke camp and went home. Deer were quite plentiful, and we could find them nearly every day, when we would get a move on, so we continued to stay day after day, and putting in about one-half the time hunting and the other half telling what we would have done if there had not been so many "ifs" in the way.
I would usually shape my course in hunting so as to come around where some of the deadfalls were and spring them. One day I came to one that was pretty well snowed under. I saw that a fox had done a good deal of traveling around the trap and had dug in the snow some about where I thought a marten would be, providing one was there. I kicked the snow away, and to my delight and surprise I found as good a marten as I had caught. I thanked the fox for the favor. I examined all the traps then to make sure that there was nothing in them, but I found no more marten.
We now began to get our venison into camp, taking turns to help each other. I do not just remember how many deer we killed, but I think that Charley and Will killed 15 or 16 apiece, and I killed either 11 or 12.
The boys said I had done pretty well considering the two bear and otter, but when I went to the old elm and brought out the marten, mink and another otter and five or six coon, the boys looked greatly amazed and Will said, "I knew the fool was doing something besides hunting," Charley said he thought he could smell something that smelled like mink around the camp three or four times. I think I got 13 marten, 8 mink, 5 coon, 2 otter and 2 bears. As near as I can remember, I got a little over a hundred dollars for the fur. I do not remember what we got for the venison, but it was war prices. We shipped our venison to George Herbermann, New York.
I tried to have the boys help cut a lot of wood for the next season's hunt, but they said they were not counting chickens as far ahead as that. They hit it right, for neither of them hunted in there. I think Charley hunted on Hunt's Run in Cameron County, and I do not know whether Will hunted at all the next season, but I took a partner and went back on the Kinzua.
This time we were in "swacks," and I will try to tell what luck we had some time, but one thing we did was to put a window in the camp and make the door large enough so that one did not have to get down on all fours to get in or out. Will and I stayed in camp while Charley went out to Kane and sent in the team to take out the venison and the furs and the camp outfit. We got home for Christmas and found all well.
As this hunt was about 1868, before there were railroads in this section, we went to Emporium, Cameron County, Pennsylvania, and there took the train to Kane, in McKean County, then by team and bobsled route to camp. This making the journey much farther, we concluded to go by wagon the entire distance, which would shorten the distance nearly one-half.
This time conditions were different than on previous occasion. While there were three in the party before and every one hunted on his own hook, this time I had a partner and we were to share alike in profit and loss. My partner's name was William Earl, and he had recently moved from Vermont, or, as he would jokingly say, from "Varmount." He was somewhat older than myself, and a man who was ever ready to carry his end of the load at all times.
We hired a team and took a full line of grub and the camp outfit, with about sixty small traps and eight bear traps. We went by way of Port Allegheny, Devils Blow and Smithport, taking three days to get to camp, as we had to cut out the road a good part of the distance of the last day's travel. They had just begun to operate in the oil industry in the neighborhood of what is now the city of Bradford, and as they used wood altogether for fuel to drill with, there was a great deal of wood being cut for the purpose. Bill, as my partner was familiarly called, used to say that if we could not get fat on venison and bear meat we would take a wood job, but we found plenty to do without the wood job.
On reaching the camp the first thing noticeable was that the old hollow elm that I had used for a dryhouse to hang up skins in, had met with foul play, for it lay on the ground, having blown down. This made it necessary to build a sort of leanto against one side of the shanty to hang up our furs, as we did not like to have them hung up in the shanty where they would get more or less smoked.
But the first thing we did was to enlarge the door, for it will be remembered that we were obliged to get down on all fours in order to get in or out of the shanty. As we had a good crosscut saw, it did not take long to enlarge the doorway so that one could go in standing up, man fashion. We next cut a window-hole large enough to take a single sash window. Then we replaced the chinkings that the porcupines had gnawed out, calked and mudded all cracks. When this was done, Bill looked it over and said, "By gum, don't it look like living?"
As it was only about the middle of October we went to work at once on a good supply of wood for the camp. We did not quit until we were sure that we had plenty to last the winter, for we intended to stay as long as it was either profitable or a pleasure. After the wood was cut and piled up near the shanty door, we next set the bear traps, as we had brought bait for the purpose.
After the bear traps were set we next looked over the deadfalls that I had built for marten the fall before, putting in a new stake where necessary. We also set crotches and laid poles on them, then covering with hemlock boughs to keep the snow from falling directly on the trap. We fixed up the two deadfalls I had made for bear, as we wished to get all the bear traps out that we could, as we had already seen several signs.
We also built a number more deadfalls for marten on different ridges farther up the stream where I had not set any the fall before. We built a number of deadfalls along the streams for mink and coon. It was now getting well along towards the last days of October, so we put in a couple of days hunting deer, as we had to have bait to set our marten and other traps with.
The first day's hunting we did not get a deer, though we each got a running shot but missed. The second day I did not see any deer but Bill killed a good sized buck before noon. We now began setting the traps that we had built. Bill baiting and setting the deadfalls, while I commenced on the steel traps. We had not baited and set any of the deadfalls that we had built up to this time. The steel traps we set for fox and wildcats, as there was a bounty of two dollars on wildcats at that time.
In setting out the fox traps the knowledge that I had got of the locality was of much benefit to me. I had kept a watch out for warm springs and other good likely places to catch a fox or other animals. After we had all the deadfalls and steel traps out but three or four otter traps, we set one or two at the drift where I caught one the fall before. The others we set where we found otter signs.
While setting the traps we got a marten or two, as well as one or two mink and coon. We had had one or two little flurries of snow, but we did not leave the traps to hunt deer. Now that the traps were all set, we divided up the trap lines as best we could for each one to attend to while hunting deer. In dividing up the lines in this way we saved much time, as we would not both be working the same territory.
Now business began to get quite lively, and we were seldom in camp until after dark, and we were up early and had breakfast over and our lunch packed in our knapsacks. The lunch usually consisted of a good big hunk of boiled venison and a couple of doughnuts and a few crackers, occasionally the breast of a partridge, fried in coon or bear oil. Sometimes the lunch would freeze in the knapsacks and it would be necessary to gather a little paper bark from a yellow birch and a little rosin from a hemlock, black birch or hard maple tree and build a little fire to thaw the lunch. This, however, was quickly done, and was a pleasure rather than a hardship. I have delighted in eating the lunch in this manner for many a winter on the trap line or trail, as have many other hunters and trappers.
Bill and I always had our lunch packed and ready to take up the trail at the first peep of day. Sometimes when we would get in late, tired and wet and our clothes frozen, I would suggest to Bill that we shut up camp and take a wood job, just to see what Bill would have to say. He would say that there would be time to take a wood job in the spring or after he had killed a certain large buck which is usually called "Old Golden." There were but a few days but what we either caught some fur or killed a deer, though sometimes we would have a bad streak of luck by wounding a deer, or having some animal take a foot off and escape, but this would make us all the more eager to follow the trail or trap line.