A Fall Fur Hunt in Maine 
► * 
II.—Establishing the Long Trap Line and the 
Making and Setting of the Traps 
By MANLY HARDY 
W E had a plan with us in which the Baker 
Lake Carry was marked as beginning at 
a pond on Avery Brook. This carry is 
nine miles long and leads from Caucomgomoc to 
Baker Lake on the St. John’s waters, and we 
thought it would be a good idea, if we could find 
it, to utilize it for a sable line and thereby save 
spotting a line. So on Monday morning, taking 
a blanket apiece, some three pounds of pork, 
twice as much hard bread, a little chocolate and 
some sugar, we started to be gone three days. 
As we went up Avery Brook we took out six 
muskrats. A mile from the lake we came to 
the pond, or rather where the pond had been. 
This pond had been made by beavers many years 
before by building a short dam across the stream 
just below. The river drivers had cut away the 
dam two or three years before and the pond 
was now nearly dry with a long gravel bed ex¬ 
tending down the center. It was originally about 
one-fourth of a mile each way. On revisiting 
it twenty-nine years later I was surprised to 
find the dam rebuilt and a pond of quite deep 
water with plenty of trout from one to two 
pounds weight. The beaver house at the mouth 
of the stream was also there and still inhabited, 
for we picked up a freshly peeled stick, evidently 
the remains of the beaver’s breakfast. 
Leaving our canoe at the pond we worked for 
several hours, trying to find the carry. As the 
country had been lumbered lately, roads coming 
to the pond ran in all directions, and we followed 
first one and then another only to be disap¬ 
pointed. For we supposed that the carry started 
from the pond, but at last we discovered it some 
distance up a stream inletting into the pond. 
This was originally an old Indian carry which 
the lumbermen had cut out for a tote road when 
lumbering on St. John’s waters. Not having 
been used for some years, it had grown up to 
sprouts as high as one’s shoulders. 
We passed over some three miles of the carry 
without setting any traps, as we wished to set 
as long a line as we could, and the near end we 
could finish from our camp. The carry for the 
most part was on quite high and level ground. 
Along it there were many old log traps, from 
some of which fishers had escaped by gnawing 
them. At frequent intervals I observed what I 
have never seen elsewhere. A small tree had 
been cut and stuck down about two feet away 
from some small standing tree. It had then 
been cut half off at about five feet from the 
ground, the top broken down at a right angle 
and tied with bark to the standing tree, thus 
making a support for the bow of a canoe when 
the one carrying it needed to rest. 
This carry was seldom used by our hunters 
or by the Penobscot Indians, but the Saint 
Francis Indians, coming into Maine to hunt 
moose in summer, used it chiefly, and in the 
years gone by hundreds of moose hides have 
been carried to Canada by this route. Often the 
Indians left their birch canoes at Baker Lake 
and came across light, making canoes of spruce 
bark at our end of the carry. In half a day 
they could make a spruce canoe which would 
do to hunt in during calm weather. 
Beginning about noon we made nineteen traps 
and I shot three partridges. In making these 
traps, each took a special part. Rufus split out 
the chips while I cut stakes and bed-piece and 
the fall. I built the trap while he cut sticks for 
the weight and made bait stick and spindle. 
As the traps were intended for use only this 
one fall, they were made as follows: A tree 
about three inches in diameter—a spruce if one 
could be got—was cut, about eighteen inches 
taken from the butt and the limbs trimmed from 
the rest of it for five feet or so. The piece cut 
off was hewed up sharp for a space of eight 
inches in the middle. This was the bed-piece. 
It was firmly bedded in the ground, sharp edge 
uppermost, and back of it two stakes about an 
inch through were driven down about eight or 
ten inches apart, while another was placed in 
front. The fall was then laid above it, the 
bushy top having been left on to prevent its 
rolling. Then five chips, usually of fir, cut some 
eighteen inches long by six wide and sharpened 
at the end, were driven in firmly, two on each 
side (so close that the edges touched) back of 
each of the two back stakes, the rear chips 'ap¬ 
proaching each other closely enough for the fifth 
chip to close the space between them. Then the 
weights, usually cut from a striped maple ( Acer 
pennsylvanicum ), as that is heavy yet easily cut, 
were notched and laid on the fall, the other ends 
being laid on a stick in order that they might 
not freeze down. Sometimes small sticks with 
flat rocks placed upon them were used as weights. 
(See Fig. 2.) 
The bait sticks were eight inches long and as 
large as one’s little finger, with a fork at the 
inner end to tie the bait to, and with the outer 
end flattened on top. The standard was four 
inches long, a round stick of the size of the bait 
stick with the edges cut or sniped off at both 
ends so that it would cant easily. 
When the trap was set the bait stick was 
placed at the outer end of the fall that the ani¬ 
mal might get the whole weight on him. After 
setting, a handful of boughs or a piece of de¬ 
cayed wood was placed over the top of the trap 
to keep the Canada jays out. 
Traps for fisher were made in nearly the same 
way, only very much larger and stronger, and 
where it was possible they were made by cutting 
into a hollow stub or into a fir tree (which are 
often hollow), no stakes being used, and using a 
large fall, cut down at the end to fit the hole in 
the stub when placed in endwise. The solid 
backing is used because fishers are very apt to 
tear out a backing made of splits instead of 
going in at the front of the trap. 
We made these traps, but did not set or bait 
them, as it was too early in the season. 
After going about six miles on the carry, which 
ran nearly west, we turned into the woods and 
started our line about north. Near night we 
came to a small brook, and after supper we lay 
down, each rolled in his blanket, with our feet 
to a small fire and a starry covering over us. 
We were encamped under some tall hemlocks. 
Along in the night an owl, which had been wait¬ 
ing for our fire to die out, gave us both barrels 
at once. I was awake and it did not startle me 
any; neither did it Rufus, who was asleep, as 
we were too used to owls, but this seemed to 
have been the intention of the owl, as instead 
of the usual “Wahoo, wahoo-oo, wahoo-oo,” he 
gave a most diabolical laugh—a sound one sel¬ 
dom hears. This was intended solely for our 
benefit, as he did not repeat it during the night. 
Flow many noises a great horned owl can make 
is more than I know, although I am familiar 
with quite a number. Their courtship in March 
is a most ludicrous performance. Two will get 
on one bare limb and bow and scrape and sidle 
up to each other, each making the most ridicu¬ 
lous noises, which probably are intended for 
terms of endearment, but which sound more like 
what we imagine devils might make if laughing. 
We breakfasted on fried partridge and choco¬ 
late. It began to rain early, but we kept on our 
way. We came to a brook with a new beaver 
dam which had been cut by the beavers them¬ 
selves and all the water let out. We explored 
up the brook. It was evident that a family of 
beavers came here in May and occupied what 
