Dec 20, 2015 5 min read

The literature of the outdoors can be nearly as enjoyable as being out there yourself. I’m especially drawn to some of the older works, penned by writers who improvised their own equipment and knew their subjects through self-education.

One of my favorites that I feel fortunate to own deals with trapping. I have never lost my admiration for dedicated trappers. Nobody knows more about wildlife, nobody endures harsher conditions, and no other outdoorsmen put in more hours of work per unit of reward. My respect for ethical trappers runs deep enough to have nurtured a lifelong fantasy about trapping beaver — even one beaver would satisfy it, but so far I have never committed the time and effort to make that happen.

But this gem of a book keeps the beaver dream alive. “Trapping North American Furbearers” by S. Stanley Hawbaker must be one of the most credible and straightforward books ever written about the outdoors. I don’t even remember where I got my copy but I checked and there are a few available through the big on-line book retailers.

Hawbaker was a Pennsylvanian from Fort Loudon, Franklin County, about 100 miles east of here. I had to like him from the first page where he identifies himself as “Naturalist and Professional Trapper.” Apparently, he self-published the book because no other publisher is named, but the volume is professionally done on quality paper with color cover paintings of beaver, fox, mink and raccoon by Dennis Bushey.

Kurtz Brothers Printing of Clearfield, PA printed my copy (16th printing) in 1974 but the language and content suggest the text was written long before, in a simpler time when it would have been possible, even realistic, to devote the time it would take to follow Hawbaker’s advice. There’s a photo of the author as a young man in 1953, posing with a packbasket. I suspect he wrote most of the text around that time.

Unfortunately, somebody placed a coffee cup on my copy’s cover and left a circular brown stain over the red fox’s face. Otherwise it’s in excellent shape.

Today, Hawbaker’s book is not so much a practical “how-to” as it is a revelation of how the outdoors and outdoorsmen have changed since he penned his treatise.

For example, how many of us would follow Hawbaker’s tip to “build several overnight cabins along your trapline,” allowing for several weeks on the line before returning home? But even around 1953 Hawbaker sensed change on the wind. “Some trappers make the complete door by hewing logs, but this takes time and patience,” he wrote.

Hawbaker trapped and wrote before today’s revolution in high-tech outdoor gear. In his checklist for months on the line he suggests readers take along “three good woolen blankets.” After all, “one wants to sleep well,” he notes.

Hawbaker was no more deterred by foot travel than by cold nights, and one wonders what he’d think of the our contemporary dependence on ATVs to get into the outback. “Never set too many traps close together. Traps set far apart will catch more fur,” he wrote. “Every mile or half-mile is close enough for water sets.” He walked every foot of it — daily.

The section on home-made scent lures is especially entertaining, and proof that Hawbaker’s hints were meant for outdoorsmen with more free time — not to mention more tolerant spouses and not-too-near neighbors. His instructions to make a good “all season” lure go like this: “Put 4 oz. of well mashed fox liver in a well cleaned quart fruit jar. Add to this one half pint of pure sun-rendered trout oil, 12 anal glands, and the contents of two fox galls. Add one half-pint of red fox urine, 2 drops of anise and 2 oz. glycerine. Add to this ¼ oz. of pure skunk musk. Put the cover on jar without the rubber, don’t seal (this will cause the jars to explode). This is all to be done in early spring. Jar should set in sun all summer and do not allow flies to lay eggs in the mixture.”

Poignant is the only word that describes his advice for part-time trappers who need to find other work in summer. “Many times good summer jobs can be had in local factories,” he wrote. “When applying for these positions, always state that you are employed during the winter (trapping) and that you are looking for a job for the summer months only.

In this manner the employer will know you are honest and if he has any work he will give it to you.” Can we even imagine a world with that kind of occupational leeway?

On page 289 is a photo that reminds; yes, a picture is worth a thousand words. It shows a young man in Woolrich coat and hip boots, sitting on a crate beneath a canvas tarp draped across a limb. He’s blowing on a cup of hot coffee before a smudgy fire billowing smoke in his face. Around the fire are arrayed a coffee pot, frying pan and kettle. A paper sack of groceries top another wood crate. Below, the caption states simply, “Beaver Camp.” I wonder how many of us today would endure the discomforts of beaver camp for the price of pelts from the furrier.

There’s yet another photo at the end. A barn wall stands covered with stretched fur, mostly raccoon and muskrat. Five youngsters, four of them boys, are all smiling, posed proudly with traps, packbasket, and a big dog. Hawbaker credits the photo to Edgar Stull of Greencastle, Pa. Its caption reads, “Edgar says the grandchildren were a great help and enjoyed the trapline very much.”

I just noticed that my spell-checker doesn’t recognize the words “packbasket” or “trapline.” What would Hawbaker think of that?