With Trapper Jim in the North Woods Part 5

Jim showed them how he had to employ entirely new tactics when dealing with the muskrats than in connection with the mink. The former were banded together in colonies, and the trapper had to be constantly on the alert lest in capturing one prize he frighten the whole family away.

"But I learned my business many years ago," the old trapper declared, with considerable pride, "when beaver lived in the North Woods. There never were more wary little animals than those same beaver, and the man who could circ.u.mvent 'em had a right to call himself smart."

After setting three traps he led the way to a place where he had left one baited on the occasion of his previous visit to the marsh.

"You see, here's where I set it on the bank," he remarked, "and the chain ran down there to a stake in deep water."

"But it ain't here now, Uncle Jim," said Steve.

"Because a curious and hungry musquash, anxious to reach the bait I stuck on a splinter of wood just above the trap, set it off."

"And then sprang back into the water, because that was his natural way of doing when alarmed, and soon drowned there. Was that the way it worked, Uncle Jim?" asked Max.

The old trapper looked fondly at him and answered:

"Exactly as you say, son. Men who trap these cunning small fur-bearing animals never get tired of studying their habits; and the one who enters most fully into the life and instincts of mink, 'c.o.o.n, marten, otter, fisher, or even the humble muskrat, is the fellow who succeeds best in his business."

"B-b-but all the m-m-muskrats I ever saw could swim and s-s-stay under w-w-water's long as they p-p-pleased," Toby broke out with.

"That's a mistake," said Trapper Jim. "None of these animals can live under water all the time like a fish. They have to come up to breathe just so often. Beaver have houses made of mud and sticks. The entrances to these are always down below: but you find the tops of all beaver houses above the surface."

"But," said Steve, "I've seen muskrats dive just as Toby says, and waited with a club to have 'em come to the top of the water again; but lots of times I'd have to chuck it up as no good. How did that happen, Uncle Jim?"

"That is easily explained," answered the trapper. "Just as alligators do, so mink, otter, and muskrats have holes that run up into the bank of a stream, their nest being always above ordinary high water. When you missed seeing your rat it was because he happened to be near enough to dive down, enter his tunnel, and make his way up to his nest. You see, there are lots of queer things to be learned, if you only keep your eyes and ears open when in these woods."

"But show us if you really did get one in your trap," urged Bandy-legs, who knew much less about all these things than any one of the chums, yet felt considerable eagerness to learn.

So with a stick that had a fork at the end Jim felt around in the water at a point he supposed he would find something.

And, sure enough, he presently caught the chain and speedily pulled out the trap. It was not empty. A plump-looking muskrat was caught by both forelegs.

"You got him, all right, sure," commented Steve.

Trapper Jim was taking the victim out, and carefully resetting the trap in the same place it had been before; after which he renewed the bait.

"Like as not I'll have another to-morrow, and for days to come," he remarked; "unless they get suspicious on account of the scent we leave by touching things. I try to kill that all I can. But when animals are unusually timid, it's often necessary to come in a boat, and do it all without setting a foot on sh.o.r.e, because, you know, water leaves neither trail nor scent."

"Yes, the sharpest-nosed hound in the world is knocked out, I've read, when the game takes to the water."

It was Owen who made this remark, and the trapper nodded his head in approval as he added:

"I see you are a great reader, my boy. That's a mighty fine thing.

There's only one that's better--proving the truth of things by actual experience. And while you're up here in the grand old North Woods with me I hope you'll pick up a lot of useful information that you never would find in any school books. Now we're ready to visit the second trap that was set a little farther along."

To the satisfaction of the trapper this furnished a victim equal in size to the first one.

"I didn't know muskrats counted for much, Uncle Jim," remarked Steve, who saw the sparkle in the old man's eyes as he handled the second prize.

"Oh well, the skins didn't pay for the trouble years ago," he said in reply, "but of late years good furs are getting so scarce that they are using heaps of muskrat pelts, generally dyed and sold under another name.

It is a good serviceable fur, and if taken up North answers the purpose very well."

"Why do you say 'up North'?" asked Owen.

"Max there can tell you, I'm sure," laughed the trapper.

"Oh, well," remarked the one mentioned, "I do happen to know that the farther north you go the better the fur. And, of course, that means a higher price in the market, since all pelts are graded according to size and quality."

"That means, I suppose," said Owen, "that a muskrat skin taken away up in Northern Michigan or Canada is more valuable than the same sized pelt that was captured down, say, in Florida."

"Often worth twice or three times as much," remarked the trapper. "Stands to reason, too, since the little critters don't have much need of thick hides where the weather is generally warm."

"I can see through that all right," Steve admitted, "but ain't they queer lookin' little rascals, though! Some plump, too!"

"Fat as b.u.t.ter this season," observed Jim. "And I'm just longing to see how they taste. Last year they didn't just seem to suit my particular brand of appet.i.te."

"What's that?" almost shouted Steve, "say, Uncle Jim, you're just trying to give me taffy now, sure you are."

"That's where you're mistaken Steve," said the trapper, smiling at the horrified expression on the boy's face.

"But--you don't mean to say you _eat_ muskrats?" demanded Steve.

"Do I? Well, you wait and see how I'll tackle these this very evening.

And if we're lucky enough to find a third one in my other set trap, why, you boys can have a look in, too."

"Me eat rats?" cried Steve, scornfully. "Mebbe I might if I had to do it or starve to death; but not when I've got other stuff to line my stomach with, I'm no Chinaman, Uncle Jim."

"Well, you'll change your tune before long," remarked the other, "and it's a mistake to cla.s.s these clean little animals with common rats. The Indian name for him is musquash, and thousands of people appreciate the fact that his meat is as sweet as that of a squirrel."

"And I've been told," said Max, "much more tender."

"That's a fact," declared Jim, "I've got so I never try to fry a squirrel nowadays unless he's been parboiled first. They're the toughest little critters that run around on four legs."

When they arrived at the third trap it was found to contain another "victim of misplaced confidence," as Old Jim called it.

"Plenty to go around now, boys," remarked the trapper.

"You'll have to excuse me," said Steve, shuddering.

And yet before three days went by Steve had been induced to taste the musquash, as Trapper Jim prepared them, and found the dish so good that afterwards his tin pannikin was shoved forward for a second helping as often as any of the others.

On the way home, after all the traps they had brought had been set, Bandy-legs noticed a tree that stood up black and grim, as though a fire had destroyed it at some time.

"Yes," said Jim, when his attention was directed that way, "quite a few years ago we had a big fire up this way that did heaps of damage. And I've noticed that the conditions this fall are just about the same as that year. Why, we've hardly had any rain at all in the last two months."

"The woods must be pretty dry then, I should think," Max remarked.

"Dry as tinder," replied the other. "This little snow will all disappear, and unless we get a heavy fall soon, it wouldn't surprise me if some careless campers or deer hunters let their camp fire get into the brush when the wind is blowing great guns. Then there'll be the mischief to pay. But I hope it won't be any one of you boys."