The Trap Line

A trap line in the Yukon is generally run during the cold part of winter. This takes advantage of the natural and full fur coat that an animal in the wilds develops to keep itself warm.

Not around our place. We start trapping in mid-September when the first frost covers the ground to when the real cold hits and again set our traps in early spring when the natural ground feed for rodents is in low supply. Yes, I said rodents - mice in all sizes and shapes. We operate two trap lines, one in my truck and one in Irene’s car.

Every evening, before going to bed, we set cheese-loaded or peanut butter-smeared mousetraps inside our vehicles, one in the front and one in the back of the car and in the case of my pickup truck, one on each side.

We have tried everything to keep them out of the cars but haven’t been very successful in the last ten or more years. That is when I first figured out what was happening with the dashboard heater vents in both vehicles. It became increasingly difficult to get any kind of volume out of the car heaters. I tried adjusting the controls, checked the switches and allowed for more warm up time, frustrated at every turn. I finally removed part of the dash to try and rectify the problem to find that the mice had nests behind the radio and were storing their victuals in the defrost vents. For their nest the little critters used the stuffing from underneath the seats. The grub consisted of anything from dried up rosehips and berries to pieces of cat and dog food.

“Yuck! There are two more in my car. Can you please clean them up before going to town”, is a regular morning request from Irene who doesn’t do mice at all well.

I unload the traps and throw the furry remains on top of the woodshed roof. Our resident raven is part of the food chain and the birds morning ritual is a swing past our woodshed to check out the larder. He is generally well fed and is a member of the regular cleanup crew for a large part of the year. When we’re not setting our traps, the cats look after the grub, at least during the warmer months. They spend most summer nights hunting and the spoils of the game are left in front of the door each morning. The first person out of the door transfers the remains to the woodshed roof.

Breakfast anyone?