The wolves have had a break this past week, due to some more important obligations. A little background to this story and why it was so much fun for me.
My mom has a large family; six brothers and one sister. One of her brothers, Elt, has been like a big brother to me. When I was a teenager and we lived in northern Minnesota, we spent every day possible, hunting, fishing, and trapping; mostly looking for reasons to leave the logging jobs early and do something we both loved far more than falling and skidding Jackpine. My parents divorced when I was eleven years old. Elt was there to make sure I never found the trouble that was always just around the corner.
Roll forward to 2012. Elt had just retired, having worked extra jobs his entire life, volunteering for any overtime, selling firewood, trapping, or whatever would provide him a few extra dollars that would hopefully allow him the opportunity to do more hunting, fishing, and trapping when he retired. Elt had been experiencing some headaches and vision changes that last few months of his work. Docs did an MRI and the next day they called him to come for a meeting. And, they instructed that he bring his wife, Barb. Bad news. He was diagnosed with glioblastoma - cancerous brain tumor.
Within a couple days, he was in surgery to remove a tumor the size of a hot dog. The tumor went from the top of his right ear, forward to above his eyes. It left a huge zipper scar from behind his ear, over the crown of his head. The surgery was followed by six weeks of radiation and a longer period of chemo. Even with subjecting himself to all the pain and misery those treatments impose; the docs only gave him about six months. They did not expect him to see Christmas of 2012.
Well, the docs probably have never had a patient as determined and bull-headed as Elt. He is still kicking, but in pretty rough shape. He did make it to Christmas 2012, and amazingly, Christmas of 2013. Attitude and determination can overcome a lot. His short-term memory is non-existent, but his long-term is remarkably good. His physical motor skills are much diminished.
Elt and Barb came to visit us just after Christmas. They live in eastern Idaho, so it is only four hours from our place to theirs. During that visit, Elt mentioned how frustrating it was that he was no longer able to trap, the activity he was always most passionate about. It was not unusual for him to catch 100+ beaver, 50+ red fox, 70-80 mink, and assorted other critters that were on the lines he was running. Thanks to good fur prices, there was always a little extra for Christmas at his house.
Seeing the look of despair as Elt told of his desire to go on a trap line again gave me an idea. I called a couple people I knew had spring creeks on their property and inquired if they had any muskrat issues. Besides my love of water trapping, muskrats are easy enough that it would be terrain where Elt could tag along, even with his impaired mobility. Not a chance he could do anything in the mountains. He needs a cane to get around, and even with that, his balance is very bad and his feet are pretty much numb from chemo.
One of the guys I called has a big spring creek that feeds some ponds. The muskrats are hell on his banks and dikes. He said he would be happy for me to trap some rats and he would be very happy if Elt wanted to ride shotgun as I tried to diminish the muskrat problem. He gave us run of the place. A special landowner who understood what it would mean to Elt. And to me.
I called Elt and told him the good news. He said he would arrange to get here on Saturday; last weekend. He showed up as excited as I have seen him since his diagnosis. We were able to set out two dozen traps that afternoon. I did the work, with a lot of advice from Elt as to where he would set if he was the trapper and his health allowed him to wade the creek. I wanted to give him a sense of involvement, even though I was the licensed trapper and his health would not allow him to do the physical work. Whatever he suggested, I did, even if he couldn’t really see what I was doing down under the crest of the bank.
In some places, the bank was low enough that if I kicked a small hole in the bank at water level, he could struggle to get down on his butt and direct me in the finest details of where I should place my trap, right down to how deep, left or right foot catch, and every thought a trapper might consider when placing a trap. He really didn’t care how wet he got, or how cold it was. He was participating. If smiles were any indication, he was enjoying every bit of it.
As we were leaving the creek that afternoon, there were already two muskrats in the traps. To say Elt was fired up about two muskrats in such easy fashion would be a serious understatement. He was super excited on the drive home. Not sure he slept much that night.
The next morning we were out early to check this small line. It was a great morning, albeit a cold one. Two dozen traps yielded 13 muskrats. Elt was talking and laughing in a manner that reflected how much fun he was having. Words don’t really explain how rewarding it was to see him enjoy himself this much, seemingly forgetting the last two years of doctors, treatments, and confinement caused by his condition.
Morning Two was just like morning one, but even better. Fifteen big, prime, muskrats were in the traps. This was as good of pickins as I have ever had for a short morning line consisting of only two dozen sets. If ever I was going to be in some good trapping, I would want it to be this trip. I looked up to the skies and gave a big prayer of thanks for the wonderful luck being showered upon us.
With thirty rats in the box, it was past time to get on with the business of skinning, fleshing, and stretching. The plan was for me to do the knife work, skinning the rats as clean as I could. Elt demanded to help in some way, so we agreed he would flesh the hides and get them on stretchers.
Elt had brought a bunch of #1 muskrat stretchers with the idea that any muskrats would go to Elt’s grandson, a teenager who had been trying to earn a few bucks from trapping. The rats would be sold at the fur auction in Blackfoot, Idaho this weekend. Given the high muskrat prices this year, I figured a couple dozen muskrats would be a nice bump to the young guy’s fur check.
By dinner we had all the rats taken care of and drying on stretchers. Elt’s enthusiasm was peaked. He could hardly wait to get out again in the morning. It was fun to hear him recite every set he could recall that had a muskrat.
The next morning was not so good. Elt was at my Mom’s house eating breakfast and had a seizure. Even though you know it is part of his worsening condition, it is scary stuff. It was two hours of him being completely incoherent, unable to tend to anything, incapable of talking. Then, almost as if someone had turned on a switch, he was looking at me, reaching for his boots, and asking, “What the hell took you so long to get out here?”
Elt insisted we go check traps. OK. I guess that is what he came for.
It was a cold mudder. Fortunately, no wind. The seizure had taken a lot out of him. He mostly slept in the truck. Yet, when I would return with a muskrat, he would perk up and ask a ton of questions. The traps only held five muskrats and one nice mink. The cold had put a layer of ice on the water, allowing the rats to walk on the ice and not spring any of the leghold traps. All the rats caught that morning were in the conibears that were set just above the water line. Elt rested most of that day, while we kept an eye on him, worrying about his situation.
A plan was made that his wife, Barb, would come the next morning and take Elt back to Idaho. Even with that, he was not going to miss one final morning of checking traps. I was at Mom’s house to pick him up well before dark. We reached the creek just as the sun was coming up. Elt seemed in really good spirits and full of energy. You would never know he had a seizure the prior morning.
It was a mild morning. Elt was helping as much as he could. Using his cane, he would walk down to places where the bank was gradual. A few sets were in places he could walk to. A couple held muskrats; only making him more excited. The final tally by 10:00 am was six more rats.
By the time Barb arrived to take Elt home, we had 41 muskrats and one mink. More importantly, it was five days of time Elt got to spend doing something he doubted he would ever get to do again.
It allowed me to spend more time with him, knowing full well the remaining time is short. How short, who knows, but the time spent this week is worth more than anything else I could have done this week, work or play. And, it serves as another reminder as to why I have the tagline I do.
I can’t wait to get his call sometime on Sunday when he tells me how much the rats sold for at the fur auction. His grandson is a great help to him, doing many small things we in good health take for granted, yet Elt’s health does not allow. I hope his grandson gets a great price for his furs and that this small amount of trapping money allows him to do/buy something he really desires.
Thanks Elt. You are a great uncle and a great guy.
Some pics to tell more of the story.
Part of the haul from the first morning.
A good sack of rats from Day Two.
Some of the finest furred muskrats I have ever caught. Surely the best time I have ever had doing it.
My mom has a large family; six brothers and one sister. One of her brothers, Elt, has been like a big brother to me. When I was a teenager and we lived in northern Minnesota, we spent every day possible, hunting, fishing, and trapping; mostly looking for reasons to leave the logging jobs early and do something we both loved far more than falling and skidding Jackpine. My parents divorced when I was eleven years old. Elt was there to make sure I never found the trouble that was always just around the corner.
Roll forward to 2012. Elt had just retired, having worked extra jobs his entire life, volunteering for any overtime, selling firewood, trapping, or whatever would provide him a few extra dollars that would hopefully allow him the opportunity to do more hunting, fishing, and trapping when he retired. Elt had been experiencing some headaches and vision changes that last few months of his work. Docs did an MRI and the next day they called him to come for a meeting. And, they instructed that he bring his wife, Barb. Bad news. He was diagnosed with glioblastoma - cancerous brain tumor.
Within a couple days, he was in surgery to remove a tumor the size of a hot dog. The tumor went from the top of his right ear, forward to above his eyes. It left a huge zipper scar from behind his ear, over the crown of his head. The surgery was followed by six weeks of radiation and a longer period of chemo. Even with subjecting himself to all the pain and misery those treatments impose; the docs only gave him about six months. They did not expect him to see Christmas of 2012.
Well, the docs probably have never had a patient as determined and bull-headed as Elt. He is still kicking, but in pretty rough shape. He did make it to Christmas 2012, and amazingly, Christmas of 2013. Attitude and determination can overcome a lot. His short-term memory is non-existent, but his long-term is remarkably good. His physical motor skills are much diminished.
Elt and Barb came to visit us just after Christmas. They live in eastern Idaho, so it is only four hours from our place to theirs. During that visit, Elt mentioned how frustrating it was that he was no longer able to trap, the activity he was always most passionate about. It was not unusual for him to catch 100+ beaver, 50+ red fox, 70-80 mink, and assorted other critters that were on the lines he was running. Thanks to good fur prices, there was always a little extra for Christmas at his house.
Seeing the look of despair as Elt told of his desire to go on a trap line again gave me an idea. I called a couple people I knew had spring creeks on their property and inquired if they had any muskrat issues. Besides my love of water trapping, muskrats are easy enough that it would be terrain where Elt could tag along, even with his impaired mobility. Not a chance he could do anything in the mountains. He needs a cane to get around, and even with that, his balance is very bad and his feet are pretty much numb from chemo.
One of the guys I called has a big spring creek that feeds some ponds. The muskrats are hell on his banks and dikes. He said he would be happy for me to trap some rats and he would be very happy if Elt wanted to ride shotgun as I tried to diminish the muskrat problem. He gave us run of the place. A special landowner who understood what it would mean to Elt. And to me.
I called Elt and told him the good news. He said he would arrange to get here on Saturday; last weekend. He showed up as excited as I have seen him since his diagnosis. We were able to set out two dozen traps that afternoon. I did the work, with a lot of advice from Elt as to where he would set if he was the trapper and his health allowed him to wade the creek. I wanted to give him a sense of involvement, even though I was the licensed trapper and his health would not allow him to do the physical work. Whatever he suggested, I did, even if he couldn’t really see what I was doing down under the crest of the bank.
In some places, the bank was low enough that if I kicked a small hole in the bank at water level, he could struggle to get down on his butt and direct me in the finest details of where I should place my trap, right down to how deep, left or right foot catch, and every thought a trapper might consider when placing a trap. He really didn’t care how wet he got, or how cold it was. He was participating. If smiles were any indication, he was enjoying every bit of it.
As we were leaving the creek that afternoon, there were already two muskrats in the traps. To say Elt was fired up about two muskrats in such easy fashion would be a serious understatement. He was super excited on the drive home. Not sure he slept much that night.
The next morning we were out early to check this small line. It was a great morning, albeit a cold one. Two dozen traps yielded 13 muskrats. Elt was talking and laughing in a manner that reflected how much fun he was having. Words don’t really explain how rewarding it was to see him enjoy himself this much, seemingly forgetting the last two years of doctors, treatments, and confinement caused by his condition.
Morning Two was just like morning one, but even better. Fifteen big, prime, muskrats were in the traps. This was as good of pickins as I have ever had for a short morning line consisting of only two dozen sets. If ever I was going to be in some good trapping, I would want it to be this trip. I looked up to the skies and gave a big prayer of thanks for the wonderful luck being showered upon us.
With thirty rats in the box, it was past time to get on with the business of skinning, fleshing, and stretching. The plan was for me to do the knife work, skinning the rats as clean as I could. Elt demanded to help in some way, so we agreed he would flesh the hides and get them on stretchers.
Elt had brought a bunch of #1 muskrat stretchers with the idea that any muskrats would go to Elt’s grandson, a teenager who had been trying to earn a few bucks from trapping. The rats would be sold at the fur auction in Blackfoot, Idaho this weekend. Given the high muskrat prices this year, I figured a couple dozen muskrats would be a nice bump to the young guy’s fur check.
By dinner we had all the rats taken care of and drying on stretchers. Elt’s enthusiasm was peaked. He could hardly wait to get out again in the morning. It was fun to hear him recite every set he could recall that had a muskrat.
The next morning was not so good. Elt was at my Mom’s house eating breakfast and had a seizure. Even though you know it is part of his worsening condition, it is scary stuff. It was two hours of him being completely incoherent, unable to tend to anything, incapable of talking. Then, almost as if someone had turned on a switch, he was looking at me, reaching for his boots, and asking, “What the hell took you so long to get out here?”
Elt insisted we go check traps. OK. I guess that is what he came for.
It was a cold mudder. Fortunately, no wind. The seizure had taken a lot out of him. He mostly slept in the truck. Yet, when I would return with a muskrat, he would perk up and ask a ton of questions. The traps only held five muskrats and one nice mink. The cold had put a layer of ice on the water, allowing the rats to walk on the ice and not spring any of the leghold traps. All the rats caught that morning were in the conibears that were set just above the water line. Elt rested most of that day, while we kept an eye on him, worrying about his situation.
A plan was made that his wife, Barb, would come the next morning and take Elt back to Idaho. Even with that, he was not going to miss one final morning of checking traps. I was at Mom’s house to pick him up well before dark. We reached the creek just as the sun was coming up. Elt seemed in really good spirits and full of energy. You would never know he had a seizure the prior morning.
It was a mild morning. Elt was helping as much as he could. Using his cane, he would walk down to places where the bank was gradual. A few sets were in places he could walk to. A couple held muskrats; only making him more excited. The final tally by 10:00 am was six more rats.
By the time Barb arrived to take Elt home, we had 41 muskrats and one mink. More importantly, it was five days of time Elt got to spend doing something he doubted he would ever get to do again.
It allowed me to spend more time with him, knowing full well the remaining time is short. How short, who knows, but the time spent this week is worth more than anything else I could have done this week, work or play. And, it serves as another reminder as to why I have the tagline I do.
I can’t wait to get his call sometime on Sunday when he tells me how much the rats sold for at the fur auction. His grandson is a great help to him, doing many small things we in good health take for granted, yet Elt’s health does not allow. I hope his grandson gets a great price for his furs and that this small amount of trapping money allows him to do/buy something he really desires.
Thanks Elt. You are a great uncle and a great guy.
Some pics to tell more of the story.
Part of the haul from the first morning.
A good sack of rats from Day Two.
Some of the finest furred muskrats I have ever caught. Surely the best time I have ever had doing it.
