THE LITTLE TRAPPER
Edwy had been called “The Little Trapper.” He had read every book he
could find about animals. After reading some of them, he would be the
“warrior bold”; would long to be old enough to shoot and slay and
pursue big game through the forest spaces, but bless his heart, he
hadn’t the least idea that there was any tragedy in it. He had made
box-traps with his own hands, but in such a way, however, that it would
hardly frighten the little creatures to be caught, for he would only
keep the little prisoners an hour, or a minute perhaps, feed them, and
let them go free.
One day he had found in his trap a pretty brown-eyed musk-rat, and the
creature found himself liberated beside his own stream, not a bit the
worse for its experience. And one day he found a strange slate-colored
dormouse, but it had managed to get out of its cage by its own
ingenuity or some one’s help.
Another day he caught several little squirrels, first getting one, then
another, and another, and letting them pass by a bridge of his own or
his father’s contriving, from one box to another, but they were all to
be set free in a short time and seemed to think it was mere play. At
first they seemed to try to tease each other, their comrades, for the
moment. He had discovered that in this first stage they would not eat,
but after a while he had rushed into the house to tell Willard his new
discovery.
“Why, Willard, they’ve all got acquainted with each other, and they
know me. They seem to know that I don’t mean to hurt them, and now they
‘grab’ for everything I offer them to eat.”
It soon became evident that the squirrel families would have to be more
severely dealt with, for more than once they had disturbed the little
birds on their nests, and in some cases had been known to destroy their
eggs; so a plan was formed to transport one or two of the squirrel
families to another portion of the woods, and thus leave the robins and
the warblers in undisputed possession near the camp.
At length came the plans for the opening of the doors of the temporary
trap, to introduce the squirrels to their new forest home.
Where the lake laps the shore, several rowboats were drawn up in line
and it was but the work of a moment to embark, for all the interested
members of the little group could enter readily into the child’s
feelings. The morning was one of the gems of June, with crystal sky and
lake. As the boats sped out towards the further shore the wise little
creatures in the box crowded further back, massed themselves in a
bunch, their feet towards the opening of the box, their pointed noses
quivering with excitement. Their little sharp bead-like eyes alert, but
less full of fear than at first, for already they had grown familiar
with a petting word from the little “trapper” and friend, and were fast
growing trustful of their human kind.
Now the problem was to get them to cross the small channel of deep
water which lay between them and the shore. A rustic bridge was made by
means of a wide board, and then the doors were opened! Such a patter of
little twinkling feet as they ran, one after another, “low geared” for
the land, while the party sailed back or remained on the lake to enjoy
the delights of rod and line, the feast of the flowers on the banks and
the songs of numberless birds, all part of the glorious summer time.