The battle is over... for now.

It's been said many times over that a trapper's work is never done. I can attest to that, as I constantly find myself running out of time to get everything done I need to before the season gets into full swing. This weekend, I wanted to run the Pipeline Trail, check our marten boxes and place unset traps into them, put up some signs on a couple of our trails, build some cubbies, finish cutting the wood for winter, bury a couple of beaver carcasses at the wolf bait station, and take care of whatever beaver remain beside the cabin. Needless to say, we never accomplished everything but we did have a successful weekend.

We arrived early Friday afternoon and proceeded to break the beaver dam. The plan was the same, wait until dusk, watch to see if a beaver returns, and then shoot it. That night we went to bed without seeing a beaver.

The next morning we hit the Pipeline Trail with two beaver carcasses strapped to the back of the quads. In each marten box we passed, we put a 120 Conibear inside, unset. This will help speed up the first two days of baiting our sets once marten season opens. The porcupines, however, have decided to slow us down as best they can. At one stop, one of our marten boxes looked fine, until I walked around to the other side. Good thing we brought along a couple of extra boxes.

From this side, the trail side, the box looks fine.

You would have a hard time getting a 120 Conibear to sit properly in this box.

Once we replaced the marten box, we carried on up Pipeline Trail to the crossover pipeline that joins our run between the two pipelines that intersect Grizzly Road. About half way down the crossover is our bait station that we set up too late the previous season. This year we hope to establish the site early so that when December roles around and we can use snares, we should know the trails that are being used to go into the bait station, and who's using them. We know the wolves have crossed through here, twice last year, and we know they travel a trail very close to here as well. It is also a good spot to snare because of the amount of deadfall and perfectly-sized trees that are so closely spaced. Maybe this year we'll catch a wolf or two.

Straight in about 30 metres is where the bait station is.

Dakota digging a hole into the root-bound ground so we can bury the beaver carcasses.

The beaver carcasses about to be buried.

On the way back down the pipeline that leads to Grizzly Road, we found another marten box that had been ravaged by a porcupine, and this one was the worst. All that remained was the base and a piece of sidewall that was on the ground. It seems silly to put out boxes that the porcupines love to eat because of their glue content, but I can build one of these boxes for about $2.00 or $3.00. It appears I will lose about four or five boxes a year, so no big deal. I will slowly change them out over the years to either plastic boxes that cost about $15.00 a piece, or build some new ones made from rough-cut lumber using the Alaska sawmill.

All that remains is the base.

And the remains of one side; we couldn't find any other parts of the box.

We managed to get the box replaced and then we had time to put up an "Active Trapper's Trail" sign on Unnamed Trail. But that was it, we had to get back and see if we could deal with the beaver at the cabin. They had once again built the dam back up during the night while we were sleeping, however, it was a ragtag job and the dam was still letting a fair amount of water through it, which seemed odd; perhaps there weren't many beaver remaining. Dakota also needed to finish splitting the wood beside the cabin and get it stacked on the porch.

After Dakota split the wood and we had it stacked and with me tending steaks on the grill, Dakota grabbed the .22 and went down to the dam. Soon I heard the retort of the .22 and in short order Dakota was back, exclaiming he'd shot a beaver! Together we walked back to the dam and sure enough, there lay what had to be Sally. The beaver was huge, pushing better than 50-pounds with ease.

Dakota putting the big beaver into the current where we'd leave it until after supper.

That night we celebrated, finally getting the big beaver that had been plaguing us for the better part of a year and a half. We hoped that the next morning the dam would still be untouched. If it was, then there was a good chance we'd caught all the beaver out of the huge water body beside the cabin.

The next morning we awoke to snow and temperatures around -6 Celsius. It wasn't much snow, but it was a start. We need at least a foot over the next two weeks so we can run the Ski-doo.

An interesting look through the windows on the front door.

We went down to check on the beaver dam and discovered it was just as we'd left it. The water nearest the cabin was way down from where it was; we were claiming back the land around the cabin we had lost... finally. At this point, we believe we have caught all of the beaver but the real test will be when we return. If the dam is as we left it, free flowing, we will be able to relax until the next pair move in.

Dakota holding the big, and we hope the last, beaver.

Until next time!

Extending the marten line and catching some beaver

With marten season opening up on November 1, Dakota and I hit the trapline to get some more marten boxes set up and to deal with our beaver issue. I wanted to extend our marten route further down south; in fact, my plan was to add an additional 10 kilometres, round trip, with another 10 marten boxes.

But first Dakota had a woodpile to split and stack on the porch. It takes both sides of the cabin stacked with a single row to last the trapping season, so his job was to get at least half of it done while I put up the satellite dish. Yup! Satellite dish. Listening to a single radio station is driving us nuts, so for those long nights during trapping season it will be nice to watch a hockey game, movie or something. The generator came along with us.

Dakota starting in on the woodpile.

Satellite dish is up and working. Notice the fancy rock work in front of the new deck.

Once it started to get late in the afternoon, we went down and broke the beaver dam, knowing they would soon show up to fix it. Our plan was to shoot as many beaver as we could. Trying to catch the old girl in a Conibear has been impossible; she's educated to their danger, so the .22 was an easy option. I don't have the time to try and catch her with a slide wire and I don't trust walking on what is essentially moving water with a thin frozen top, so catching her under the ice is out of the question.

Just before dusk the three beavers returned to the dam. I grabbed the .22 and we snuck up as close as we could. I trained the .22 on who I assumed was the old girl and with one shot her dam building days came to an end. The other two quickly vanished while Dakota reigned in the big beaver, letting her lay in the current below the dam. Soon, another curious beaver returned to also meet his demise. We'd managed to get just the two but I was extremely happy, maybe we could reduce the water levels near the cabin back to where they had been.

Dakota with the second beaver, a two-year-old.

Notice the large adult beside the two-year-old.

After realizing one of the beavers was a two-year-old, I knew something wasn't right. We thought the old girl only had two small kits left, now we'd killed a two-year-old, which means there must be more beaver than we suspected again. If there are two-year-olds and kits, just how many are there? We decided we'd set up a couple Conibears nearer their house and then again wait at the broken dam the next evening, hoping the one beaver we knew existed came back.

One of two Conibear traps nearer the beaver house.

The next morning we loaded up the quads and hit the trail. By quad to where I wanted to start the extension of the line takes nearly an hour, so we got an early start. We wanted to get back early enough to do some chores and deal with our beaver.

The country on the south end of the trapline is beautiful, with an older coniferous forest perfect for holding marten. We managed to get nine of our 10 boxes up before we reached what I deemed would be the turnaround.

Early on the extension route. Heading directly south.

One of the new marten boxes Peter Milberry helped me build.

We got back to the cabin early, well before our beaver had awaken. Both the Conibears were as we'd left them. The dam we noticed in the morning was still broken, although there had been some work done to it during the night. With supper on the grill, my timing was terrible. Dakota suddenly came rushing back from the dam, one of the beavers had returned! After pulling our steaks away from the heat on the grill, Dakota grabbed the .22 and we snuck back down to the dam only to find the beaver had left. With supper cooking, I went back to the grill leaving Dakota there, but not before I grabbed my binoculars. I could see one of the traps from the firepit. Looking through the binoculars I was astonished to see another large adult beaver swimming by the Conibear, not daring to go near it! Then another smaller beaver appeared swimming in the distance. Now I had no idea how many beaver were still there. For the rest of that evening, we never saw the beaver again.

The next morning we checked the traps and discovered we'd caught a kit. We'd go home with three beaver but the big one that's been avoiding us still remains. With above-freezing temperatures in the forecast and a little luck, maybe we'll get her next weekend. At least we're slowing them down.

Dakota with our catch.

Can't believe we're watching TV, almost doesn't seem right in the middle of nowhere.

Until next time!

Schmit house is up, deck is on!

Ken Colwill, Ken Marlatt and I hit the trapline for a week at the end of September. Our plan was to get the outhouse up, build a deck on the cabin and do a little hunting. I also wanted to hit the end of Broken Bridge Trail and extend the south end of our marten line almost down to Silver Summit, which is in the bottom southwest corner of the trapline. And a load of wood wouldn't hurt either. I'd also do a little hunting/scouting closer to the cabin for the first couple of days before joining the boys who would be hunting off the trapline at lower elevations where there would be more game.

We arrived mid-day and after getting settled in, we spent the first night relaxing around the fire and taking in the remoteness of our location. This is high country and what lives here is the toughest of big game - moose, wolves and bears, both blacks and grizzlies. The creek flows cold and crystal clear at this time of year. The water's tannin colours of spring and summer are long gone now. Mornings see frost and the smell of hunting and trapping season is in the air. But first... a Shmit House needs erecting and a deck needs building.

In the morning, Ken Marlatt would start on the deck, while Ken Colwill and I tackled the outhouse. Ken Colwill hurt his shoulder quadding and was much like a duck flying around on one wing, but he's tough and in no time the one-armed bandit was breaking apart the old crapper.

Over she goes, the old outhouse is down for the count!

Off comes the door!

Ken Colwill, the one-armed wrecking crew!

Meanwhile, 15 yards away, Ken Marlatt was digging out the front of the cabin to accommodate the new deck while I was prepping the foundation for the new outhouse. We were accomplishing a lot in a very short period of time.

Making good time, almost ready to start screwing down the boards.

The outhouse foundation ready for the walls.

Once the foundation for the outhouse was ready, it was time to start assembling the outhouse walls. The three of us began the process of putting back together what Pete and I had previously built in his garage. Now to see how it all fit together.

Three walls up and so far so good.

Ready to put on the back wall

Before putting on the back wall, I installed the inside seat unit and linoleum flooring.

Almost ready for a coat of paint.

The Taj Mahal of trapline crappers.

While I was finishing off the inside of the outhouse, Ken and Ken worked away on the deck. We'd barely had a beer yet and we were already getting close to finishing. We'd be hunting a day sooner than I'd thought.

Boards are going on.

Cutting the last board to fit.

Ken Marlatt taking a well deserved break and enjoying the view from the new deck.

The last thing to do for the day was paint the outhouse and then it would be time for a few drinks and a good supper on the firepit.

Slapping on the paint. Once painted, the porcupines should leave it alone.

Looking pretty good!

I've written about the beaver living beside the cabin and how close she is on several occasions. Dakota and I battled with her for a year, breaking her dam over and over again to no avail. There is a saying though that if you want to get a redneck to do something for you, just bet him he can't do it and sure enough he'll give it a try. A small wager and the boys were off with pick axe and hoe in hand. Ken and Ken decided they'd name her Sally and give her a battle. I warned them she was a workhorse and that their efforts too would be fruitless, but they were convinced no beaver would defeat them.

Ken Colwill giving his one-armed best effort at removing a beaver dam.

I'm not sure how many times they returned to the beaver dam but it was a lot. That night before bed, they were convinced they'd won. We'd find out in the morning.

Passed out, but what's with the broom? We hoped he thought he was holding the hoe
and dreaming about Sally the beaver, not... well, you get the idea.

The next morning Sally and I declared victory; her dam was back together and I collected my winnings. Not sure what she must be thinking but her days are numbered. We missed catching her last trapping season but she won't be as lucky this year, at least I hoped. The beavers there are starting to dam up water in places it shouldn't be, at least if I still want to be able to get to my cabin.

The boys hit the road, heading down to lower elevations in search of game. I started off on foot from the cabin. I wanted to check out a few areas closer to home that I hadn't been to before. In short order, I encountered a doe and a fawn, but they were safe from me. There are a few deer around the area of the cabin but they aren't in great numbers. Usually if you see a doe she is without fawn. It was nice to see this one was still alive and well.

Ken and Ken returned just before dark. They had seen little in the way of game but had seen some beautiful country. They had encountered a big, fresh grizzly track not too far from the cabin as the crow flies. Makes you feel awake and alive when you encounter a grizzly's track when you are hunting. They are big and dangerous animals if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The bear track beside Ken Marlatt's hat. Like humans, bears are heel walkers as opposed to toe walkers.

And so the first few days went, with little sign of game. It was time to make the journey to the far south end of my trapline. I wanted to get down there and see what kind of marten country there was. Judging from where our existing route ended, it looked excellent, but there really was only one way to find out. Traveling around a trapline on a quad isn't necessarily fun, nor is it fast. A snowmobile is the way to go but without snow, quads it was.

A long ride later, we accomplished what I wanted to do and now I have about another 10 miles to add to my trapline route. The country down there is big old growth forest that I'm sure the logging companies have their eyes on, so I'll start harvesting the excess young-of-the-year marten population that arrives in search of new territories each winter. The grouse population this year is in good shape; both spruce and ruffies are everywhere. We also came across a big bull moose that was sporting a bell about two-feet long. We also watched a beautiful big black bear munching away in a cutblock. Not sure why I don't have a picture of the bear, but I got one of the moose.

Look at the length of the bell on this moose.

Would have been about a 250-yard shot.

The final couple of days we spent scouting new areas in search of elk. Ken and Ken found a place where an elk gutpile lay from a lucky hunter but we weren't so fortunate. They also found my trapline neighbour's cabin and dubbed a road Pig's Head Road, because there actually was a pig's head laying on the road... the road to Jimmy's Hill, where "no girl tires" are allowed.

The turn to what is now known as Pig's Head Road.

Not sure who Jimmy is?

Ken Colwill had to leave a day early; he bought a new truck in Athabasca and was now going to make his way across country to get there to pick it up. We managed to get a load of wood and see some of the northwest country off the trapline before he left. Ken Marlatt and I stayed the night by ourselves, enjoying drinks and a steak supper over the open grill.

Relaxing at the firepit.

A happy trapper.

The big mudhole on Cabin Trail Road is getting pretty bad. Ken and I had to winch me out of the hole, as the trailer got hung up. Soon it will be frozen though and a different part of the trail can be used. In another month, I'll most likely be on a snowmobile.

The hole is getting longer and deeper.

Nothing a winch can't handle.

Thanks to my two good friends, I had a lot of fun and now I've got some upgrades done to the cabin tnat will make this trapping season that much more enjoyable.

Until next time!

The Shmit House

The old outhouse at the trapline has to come down. We'd managed to use it for a couple of years now but enough was enough. The porcupines have chewed down the front of the seat compartment and the squirrels use it as much as we do. The Styrofoam seat keeps your butt warm but it too has seen better days. I'm not sure how many years the old outhouse has been standing but the logs it was built on are quite rotten. The photos below show exactly how poor of a condition it is in.

Looks okay from a distance but then again, many things do.

Not a pretty sight.

So, when my good buddy Peter Milberry offered to give me a hand building a new one, I jumped at the chance. Pete is a wizard with wood and knows what he's doing when it comes to building things, and I mean anything! The plan was to build the outhouse in Pete's driveway where we had the headroom. As well, Pete has all the tools required. We would then put the outhouse together, take it apart, and load it into my truck. Then Dakota and I would haul in the walls, floor and roof to the cabin using my quad and quad trailer the next weekend.

After Pete secured me a door and a window (a high-tech aluminum door with a peephole and a knocker I might add), we were ready to build the outhouse. First we put together the floor and then we started building the walls, attaching them to the floor as we went.

Here Pete is installing the window into the wall.

Built in the garage, assembled in the driveway.

Almost complete and ready to be taken back down.

The next weekend, Dakota and I headed to the trapline with four walls loaded into the back of my truck. The load would have been too high if we'd added the roof and floor, plus I was worried about what Boulder Road might do to our load with how rough it is. The next weekend would see the rest of the stuff hauled up when buddies Ken Colwill and Ken Marlatt would be along for a little outhouse assembly and deck building, with a little bit of hunting thrown into the mix.

Here we have a wall loaded onto the quad trailer and ready to hit the trail.

A wolf track on the road to Cabin Trail.

The road down to Cabin Trail can't be driven on by a vehicle unless it's frozen. It's basically a road built over muskeg and impassable by vehicle during the warm months of the year. There is one pretty good mud hole on it that can cause some problems but on this trip, we managed to get through it just fine. I gambled on taking a new part of the road across from the mud hole but that almost proved to be disastrous, so the mud hole it was. We didn't have too many problems until we were on Cabin Trail, which also has a few mud holes and is much narrower than Cabin Trail Road. But a little maneuvering here and there, a few branches cut out of the way and one incident where we had to use the winch, and we had the walls to the yardsite.

The drop down to Cabin Trail from the wellsite where Cabin Trail Road ends.

We got hung up here and had to use the winch to get out.

Another hole on Cabin Trail but this one isn't too bad.

The walls leaned up against a tree and ready to be assembled.

Trappers spend a lot of time working on their trails, and in many instances, this work is ongoing. For me that's Cabin Trail. But many other trails always need clearing, bridge work, and just plain general maintenance. Knowing this, the Alberta Government offers the following passage from the Alberta Guide to Hunting Regulations: Many trails on Crown lands are created and maintained by trappers. To avoid interference with trapline operations, recreationists are urged to avoid motorized use of trails marked with signs indicating “Active Trapline,” especially during trapping seasons of November through February.

While I know some might consider a sign on a trail on Crown Land to be a sign to be ignored, it is still with hope that trappers mark their trails. There is nothing worse than somebody driving down your trail in a snowmobile, gunning it every few feet and leaving big divots in the trail that the trapper now has to navigate through. Considering we are on our trails from dark to dark during trapline operations, this can really slow us down, not to mention cause a wreck, as quite often trappers are looking around for sign and not looking at the trail ahead of them. With this in mind, I had a few trail signs made up that Dakota and I marked a few of our trails with.

The start of Clear Trail.

The opposite end of Clear Trail.

We are in a pretty remote area that doesn't see a lot of traffic on our trails; in fact, for the most part, never. But I feel better with the signs up anyway.  Dakota drove us out to the highway from the cabin, about an hours drive. I would be returning in a week with Ken and Ken to get the deck on and the outhouse put up.

At the controls of Big Red!

Until next time!