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Trappers combat well-funded opponents, shrinking numbers
By JERRY BUSH, Erie Times News Contributing writer
3/17/03
Dawn arrived in bright, golden rays of sunshine, but the temperature was a teeth-chattering 6 degrees when Steve Steffy met me at the restaurant for breakfast.
Steffy, a district director for the Pennsylvania Trappers Association, had agreed to let me tag along one February day as he inspected his trap line, one of many he runs in Erie and Forest counties.
Trappers like Steffy are a rare breed these days. While most people are snug in their beds or perhaps rising for a hot shower, this outdoorsman often is out in the wind, snow and chilling temperatures to walk a trap line.
Steffy, 31, is perhaps rarer yet: He started trapping not as a child, and not under a mentor's tutelage, but in his mid-20s and without instruction.
"I just decided to try it," he said. "I had hunted since I was 20 or 21, and I got bored with it. I even gave up bowhunting.
"I pretty much learned everything on my own by reading magazines and books," he said. "Then I started getting involved with the trapping organizations."
In trapping he found a way to get even closer to the animals hunters and trappers pursue. "You have to be intimate with them to be successful with it," he said.
Steffy drove his four-wheel drive truck to one of his lines in western Erie County, loaded his gear and headed for his sets. The first, across a snowy field, was empty, and Steffy decided it wouldn't be suitable for catching animals unless it was re-set in a new location. The steel bars were frozen to the ground, and the mechanism could not have been activated even under the weight of an animal much larger than a furbearer.
Winter trapping conditions present special obstacles, but the satisfaction of overcoming these hardships is just another of the challenges that prove alluring to outdoorsmen and women. Fly fishermen experience similar satisfaction when trying to tie the perfect imitation to lure a wily trout. Though fly-fishermen might disagree, they don't have to work as hard to land their quarry.
Steffy, for example, is awake at 4 a.m., seven days a week in peak trapping season - approximately Nov. 1-March 31.
He spends about 21 hours patrolling his trap lines, and most days already has been on the go for 4 hours before reporting to work at 8 a.m.
He'll sometimes drive 75 miles to 100 miles in a morning to make sure his sets are cleared, reset or pulled. He typically has 25 traps in place; during his vacation, he doubles that number, and this month he intends to use vacation time to set as many as 100 traps before beaver season closes March 31.
For the moment, though, Steffy was intent on the empty trap at hand. The first task was to locate the exact spot where the trap had been set. We did not want to loosen and dig more frozen soil than necessary. Steffy carried a pack filled with equipment enough to handle most field situations. He probed the ground with a hammer and metal stake, which allowed him to locate the exact position of the trap. His basket also contained a dull ax he used to loosen the soil around the trap.
Steffy's gear represents a sizable investment, as is the case for most trappers, who actually are small businessmen. Trapping requires investment, knowledge, and determination, as in any other business. Steffy is able to contribute to his family's income through trapping, but it would be impossible for him to trap without investing in his craft.
Steffy wears rubber hip waders to keep his scent from contaminating the area. The equipment he carries in a carefully crafted, wicker-style pack basket includes metal traps of various sizes; scents, baits and lures; and spikes and chains. He also hauls metal spikes, stretching forms, dyes, waxes and other items.
Steffy started with six traps; today, he has about 150. Prices vary, but models from one manufacturer, Conibear, range from $4.99 for a small mink trap to $22.99 for a beaver snare.
Taking stock of Steffy's gear, I envisioned a frontier town visited by Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett or Lewis and Clark. Imagine life in those pioneer days, as these famous adventurers entered a general store to purchase many of the same items Steffy uses. Modern trapping provides an undeniable link to that outdoor legacy.
Thousands of trappers in Pennsylvania and across the country are working to preserve and pass on this activity. Most non-trappers are unaware of the effort and expertise required to lure and capture furbearers. Even more skill is required to properly care for the harvested pelts. It would be a shame to forever lose these practices.
We moved to a new position to place a trap at the crest of a small hill, and Steffy's homemade beaver garments caught my eye. While most furs have steadily increased in value, beaver pelts are on a slight decline. Most beaver pelts are sold abroad; the declining economic health of foreign economies haunts fur trade just as it does any other business.
Rather than sell for a minimal return, Steffy fashioned mittens and a hat for himself. He let me try the mittens; they were the warmest and softest gloves I've ever worn.
As Steffy prepared a set, I mulled the standard objections to this time-honored tradition. Critics envision jagged-toothed metal jaws when trapping is mentioned. The straight-bar, leg-hold traps fall victim to half-truths and outright lies. Horror stories of animals chewing off their legs in last-gasp efforts to get free prevail among animal-rights groups. These stories have spread to caring but deceived members of the general public as well.
A few years ago, a national organization posted billboards throughout the Erie area, using sensationalistic advertising to imply that leg-hold traps inflict the same pain humans feel when we close our hands in a car door. Unfortunately, the message was perceived as truth by the public.
Friends asked me about the ad. My answer was simple: I set a leg-hold trap and deliberately tripped it on my fingers. The bars stung a bit, but I certainly would not compare the pain to that caused by closing my hand in the door of a car, which I've done. Though I'd be willing to place my hand in that trap again, I would not voluntarily duplicate the experience with that car door.
Steffy said that only once has an animal gnawed its way out of his traps — one time out of hundreds. When I ran a line, I never experienced such behavior. In fact, many of the raccoons I captured were asleep until I walked close to them.
Trapped animals usually do not resort to self-amputation unless faced with starvation. Legally tended traps are supposed to be visited at least every 36 hours. Traps usually are visited by owners before dawn; since most furbearing animals are captured between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m., wildlife rarely is detained for more than a few hours before being dispatched. Several trap styles are designed to kill the animals within minutes of capture.
Death in any legally set trap is swift and humane by comparison to what Mother Nature has in store for the same animal, should population levels exceed the carrying capacity of their habitat.
Ahead, Steffy began searching over a small woodlot. He emerged with a log that would serve perfectly as a deliberate obstruction. By digging a hole into the soil under the wood, and placing the trap in front of the barrier, an animal would be directed toward the trap when sneaking to steal the bait. It's a subtle trick generations of trappers have learned.
There's little question trapping has been on the endangered list, but the results of an absence of trapping shouldn't be understated. Mother Nature uses unfriendly tools to keep populations in check. Rabies, distemper, mange and starvation are cruel realities that occur when populations exceed land-holding capacity.
To the point, rabies continues to escalate in Pennsylvania, and at a dramatic rate. The decline in trapping activity seems to be a prime contributor. In 1970 there were nearly 50,000 practicing trappers in the state, and there were zero reported cases of rabies among raccoons. The same was true in 1980. In the mid-1980's animal-rights advocates presented deceptive arguments against trapping to a sympathetic but misinformed society. Soft-hearted, influential celebrities sided with some of the organizations, and more of the general public followed suit.
The bottom fell out of fur prices, and by 1990 the number of trappers in Pennsylvania dropped to little more than 20,000. The same year, nearly 300 rabies cases in raccoons were reported to the state Department of Health. The number of trappers continued to decline, until only 17,604 furtaking licenses were sold in 1999. There was a parallel increase of rabies incidences throughout the '90s, and 475 rabies cases were reported by the Department of Health in 2002.
"There is strong evidence indicating incidences of rabies in Pennsylvania increase in areas where furtaking activities fail to maintain optimum population levels," said Larry Smith, a Pennsylvania Game Commission wildlife conservation officer.
There is reason for optimism among trappers. Fur prices have experienced a steady increase in value during the last five years and the Pennsylvania Game Commission Web site shows that furtaking license sales increased to 19,410 in 2001.
The Pennsylvania Trappers Association hopes to capitalize on renewed interest.
"We're coming out with billboards shortly," Steffy said. "Trappers aren't dying. A lot of times we hear 'trappers are a dying breed.' We're not. We're just a solitary breed."
Perhaps it isn't too late, and raccoons as well as other furbearers will be maintained at healthy populations. "Regulated trapping is a worthwhile and effective means of controlling wildlife, promoting healthy, stable population levels to endure," Smith said.
The increase in pelt values can't hurt. Red fox pelts, for instance, command about $21 each, the most for any popular furbearer this year. I know one trapper who financed a new ATV with the money earned over two trapping seasons, and who purchased a new dining room outfit with three seasons' income.
But today's values still pale against what pelts once brought to the state's trappers.
Ken Gebhardt of Spring Creek used to run a trap line through the fields and forests near Edinboro, where he lived when pelts got top dollar.
"I recall selling mink for 15 dollars in the 1950s, and even a muskrat sold for more than five dollars, and that was when five dollars was worth something," Springirth said. "Red fox pelts during the late 1970s sold for 50 dollars each, and both raccoons and gray fox went for 30 dollars."
Gebhardt once introduced his sons to the sport, and has been sad to witness the decline in the numbers of youngsters involved in trapping. The price increase might help on that front, too.
"Trapping may have taught my boys more about wild animals, and the value of habitat, than any other activity," Gebhardt said. "You really have to understand the animals if you hope to be a successful trapper. Most people have no idea of how hard it is to capture a wild animal, and how much work is required. Trappers learn vital lessons about paying attention to details and working hard for success."
And, often, about how to deal with failure.
Steffy finished disguising his trap, and I shot a few more photographs. As we finished, it became apparent that the animal population wasn't going to be depleted during this trip. We didn't care — the day was glorious, and the new snow presented hundreds of postcard visions. It was a typical day on a trap line, considering the harsh winter weather we were experiencing.
We returned to the truck and drove a mile or so to visit Bill Goellner, a landowner in Millcreek who grants Steffy permission to trap. We had purposefully left my truck at Steffy's house to minimize vehicle activity on Goellner's land.
"No point in offending landowners by trekking through their property with a second four-wheel drive vehicle," Steffy said. "Keeping a good relationship with the landowners who grant me permission is of prime importance."
Goellner's property is less than a mile from the Millcreek Mall. Goellner said he encounters an abundance of animals, and the benefits from Steffy's trapping are clear.
"My property was overrun with raccoons after the mall expanded," he said. "When the habitat was destroyed over there, the animals were forced to our property. To be honest, I really enjoy seeing a raccoon or two every now and then, but when they become so plentiful that many of them continually raid my bird feeders, and the neighbors garbage cans, something has to change.
"We once had a treed raccoon that had to be dispatched by the police because it was foaming at the mouth and hissing at us," Goellner said. "As it turned out, the animal had distemper and not rabies, but something like that really gets you thinking."
By and large, trappers are proving their worth and fighting to reverse misconceptions. Most modern trappers are like the guy next door, trying to earn a few extra dollars from his or her hobby. They enjoy nature and developing and using skills necessary to outwit wild animals. Their income from trapping is distributed into the economy and a useful, renewable product is provided. The capital from furtaking licenses is beneficial as well, since it is used to aid conservation management.
Throw in the propensity to maintain animals at regulated levels while keeping overall populations healthier, and legal trapping places an argument to be considered a win-win situation.
Send e-mail to joutdoors2@msn.com.
By JERRY BUSH, Erie Times News Contributing writer
3/17/03
Dawn arrived in bright, golden rays of sunshine, but the temperature was a teeth-chattering 6 degrees when Steve Steffy met me at the restaurant for breakfast.
Steffy, a district director for the Pennsylvania Trappers Association, had agreed to let me tag along one February day as he inspected his trap line, one of many he runs in Erie and Forest counties.
Trappers like Steffy are a rare breed these days. While most people are snug in their beds or perhaps rising for a hot shower, this outdoorsman often is out in the wind, snow and chilling temperatures to walk a trap line.
Steffy, 31, is perhaps rarer yet: He started trapping not as a child, and not under a mentor's tutelage, but in his mid-20s and without instruction.
"I just decided to try it," he said. "I had hunted since I was 20 or 21, and I got bored with it. I even gave up bowhunting.
"I pretty much learned everything on my own by reading magazines and books," he said. "Then I started getting involved with the trapping organizations."
In trapping he found a way to get even closer to the animals hunters and trappers pursue. "You have to be intimate with them to be successful with it," he said.
Steffy drove his four-wheel drive truck to one of his lines in western Erie County, loaded his gear and headed for his sets. The first, across a snowy field, was empty, and Steffy decided it wouldn't be suitable for catching animals unless it was re-set in a new location. The steel bars were frozen to the ground, and the mechanism could not have been activated even under the weight of an animal much larger than a furbearer.
Winter trapping conditions present special obstacles, but the satisfaction of overcoming these hardships is just another of the challenges that prove alluring to outdoorsmen and women. Fly fishermen experience similar satisfaction when trying to tie the perfect imitation to lure a wily trout. Though fly-fishermen might disagree, they don't have to work as hard to land their quarry.
Steffy, for example, is awake at 4 a.m., seven days a week in peak trapping season - approximately Nov. 1-March 31.
He spends about 21 hours patrolling his trap lines, and most days already has been on the go for 4 hours before reporting to work at 8 a.m.
He'll sometimes drive 75 miles to 100 miles in a morning to make sure his sets are cleared, reset or pulled. He typically has 25 traps in place; during his vacation, he doubles that number, and this month he intends to use vacation time to set as many as 100 traps before beaver season closes March 31.
For the moment, though, Steffy was intent on the empty trap at hand. The first task was to locate the exact spot where the trap had been set. We did not want to loosen and dig more frozen soil than necessary. Steffy carried a pack filled with equipment enough to handle most field situations. He probed the ground with a hammer and metal stake, which allowed him to locate the exact position of the trap. His basket also contained a dull ax he used to loosen the soil around the trap.
Steffy's gear represents a sizable investment, as is the case for most trappers, who actually are small businessmen. Trapping requires investment, knowledge, and determination, as in any other business. Steffy is able to contribute to his family's income through trapping, but it would be impossible for him to trap without investing in his craft.
Steffy wears rubber hip waders to keep his scent from contaminating the area. The equipment he carries in a carefully crafted, wicker-style pack basket includes metal traps of various sizes; scents, baits and lures; and spikes and chains. He also hauls metal spikes, stretching forms, dyes, waxes and other items.
Steffy started with six traps; today, he has about 150. Prices vary, but models from one manufacturer, Conibear, range from $4.99 for a small mink trap to $22.99 for a beaver snare.
Taking stock of Steffy's gear, I envisioned a frontier town visited by Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett or Lewis and Clark. Imagine life in those pioneer days, as these famous adventurers entered a general store to purchase many of the same items Steffy uses. Modern trapping provides an undeniable link to that outdoor legacy.
Thousands of trappers in Pennsylvania and across the country are working to preserve and pass on this activity. Most non-trappers are unaware of the effort and expertise required to lure and capture furbearers. Even more skill is required to properly care for the harvested pelts. It would be a shame to forever lose these practices.
We moved to a new position to place a trap at the crest of a small hill, and Steffy's homemade beaver garments caught my eye. While most furs have steadily increased in value, beaver pelts are on a slight decline. Most beaver pelts are sold abroad; the declining economic health of foreign economies haunts fur trade just as it does any other business.
Rather than sell for a minimal return, Steffy fashioned mittens and a hat for himself. He let me try the mittens; they were the warmest and softest gloves I've ever worn.
As Steffy prepared a set, I mulled the standard objections to this time-honored tradition. Critics envision jagged-toothed metal jaws when trapping is mentioned. The straight-bar, leg-hold traps fall victim to half-truths and outright lies. Horror stories of animals chewing off their legs in last-gasp efforts to get free prevail among animal-rights groups. These stories have spread to caring but deceived members of the general public as well.
A few years ago, a national organization posted billboards throughout the Erie area, using sensationalistic advertising to imply that leg-hold traps inflict the same pain humans feel when we close our hands in a car door. Unfortunately, the message was perceived as truth by the public.
Friends asked me about the ad. My answer was simple: I set a leg-hold trap and deliberately tripped it on my fingers. The bars stung a bit, but I certainly would not compare the pain to that caused by closing my hand in the door of a car, which I've done. Though I'd be willing to place my hand in that trap again, I would not voluntarily duplicate the experience with that car door.
Steffy said that only once has an animal gnawed its way out of his traps — one time out of hundreds. When I ran a line, I never experienced such behavior. In fact, many of the raccoons I captured were asleep until I walked close to them.
Trapped animals usually do not resort to self-amputation unless faced with starvation. Legally tended traps are supposed to be visited at least every 36 hours. Traps usually are visited by owners before dawn; since most furbearing animals are captured between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m., wildlife rarely is detained for more than a few hours before being dispatched. Several trap styles are designed to kill the animals within minutes of capture.
Death in any legally set trap is swift and humane by comparison to what Mother Nature has in store for the same animal, should population levels exceed the carrying capacity of their habitat.
Ahead, Steffy began searching over a small woodlot. He emerged with a log that would serve perfectly as a deliberate obstruction. By digging a hole into the soil under the wood, and placing the trap in front of the barrier, an animal would be directed toward the trap when sneaking to steal the bait. It's a subtle trick generations of trappers have learned.
There's little question trapping has been on the endangered list, but the results of an absence of trapping shouldn't be understated. Mother Nature uses unfriendly tools to keep populations in check. Rabies, distemper, mange and starvation are cruel realities that occur when populations exceed land-holding capacity.
To the point, rabies continues to escalate in Pennsylvania, and at a dramatic rate. The decline in trapping activity seems to be a prime contributor. In 1970 there were nearly 50,000 practicing trappers in the state, and there were zero reported cases of rabies among raccoons. The same was true in 1980. In the mid-1980's animal-rights advocates presented deceptive arguments against trapping to a sympathetic but misinformed society. Soft-hearted, influential celebrities sided with some of the organizations, and more of the general public followed suit.
The bottom fell out of fur prices, and by 1990 the number of trappers in Pennsylvania dropped to little more than 20,000. The same year, nearly 300 rabies cases in raccoons were reported to the state Department of Health. The number of trappers continued to decline, until only 17,604 furtaking licenses were sold in 1999. There was a parallel increase of rabies incidences throughout the '90s, and 475 rabies cases were reported by the Department of Health in 2002.
"There is strong evidence indicating incidences of rabies in Pennsylvania increase in areas where furtaking activities fail to maintain optimum population levels," said Larry Smith, a Pennsylvania Game Commission wildlife conservation officer.
There is reason for optimism among trappers. Fur prices have experienced a steady increase in value during the last five years and the Pennsylvania Game Commission Web site shows that furtaking license sales increased to 19,410 in 2001.
The Pennsylvania Trappers Association hopes to capitalize on renewed interest.
"We're coming out with billboards shortly," Steffy said. "Trappers aren't dying. A lot of times we hear 'trappers are a dying breed.' We're not. We're just a solitary breed."
Perhaps it isn't too late, and raccoons as well as other furbearers will be maintained at healthy populations. "Regulated trapping is a worthwhile and effective means of controlling wildlife, promoting healthy, stable population levels to endure," Smith said.
The increase in pelt values can't hurt. Red fox pelts, for instance, command about $21 each, the most for any popular furbearer this year. I know one trapper who financed a new ATV with the money earned over two trapping seasons, and who purchased a new dining room outfit with three seasons' income.
But today's values still pale against what pelts once brought to the state's trappers.
Ken Gebhardt of Spring Creek used to run a trap line through the fields and forests near Edinboro, where he lived when pelts got top dollar.
"I recall selling mink for 15 dollars in the 1950s, and even a muskrat sold for more than five dollars, and that was when five dollars was worth something," Springirth said. "Red fox pelts during the late 1970s sold for 50 dollars each, and both raccoons and gray fox went for 30 dollars."
Gebhardt once introduced his sons to the sport, and has been sad to witness the decline in the numbers of youngsters involved in trapping. The price increase might help on that front, too.
"Trapping may have taught my boys more about wild animals, and the value of habitat, than any other activity," Gebhardt said. "You really have to understand the animals if you hope to be a successful trapper. Most people have no idea of how hard it is to capture a wild animal, and how much work is required. Trappers learn vital lessons about paying attention to details and working hard for success."
And, often, about how to deal with failure.
Steffy finished disguising his trap, and I shot a few more photographs. As we finished, it became apparent that the animal population wasn't going to be depleted during this trip. We didn't care — the day was glorious, and the new snow presented hundreds of postcard visions. It was a typical day on a trap line, considering the harsh winter weather we were experiencing.
We returned to the truck and drove a mile or so to visit Bill Goellner, a landowner in Millcreek who grants Steffy permission to trap. We had purposefully left my truck at Steffy's house to minimize vehicle activity on Goellner's land.
"No point in offending landowners by trekking through their property with a second four-wheel drive vehicle," Steffy said. "Keeping a good relationship with the landowners who grant me permission is of prime importance."
Goellner's property is less than a mile from the Millcreek Mall. Goellner said he encounters an abundance of animals, and the benefits from Steffy's trapping are clear.
"My property was overrun with raccoons after the mall expanded," he said. "When the habitat was destroyed over there, the animals were forced to our property. To be honest, I really enjoy seeing a raccoon or two every now and then, but when they become so plentiful that many of them continually raid my bird feeders, and the neighbors garbage cans, something has to change.
"We once had a treed raccoon that had to be dispatched by the police because it was foaming at the mouth and hissing at us," Goellner said. "As it turned out, the animal had distemper and not rabies, but something like that really gets you thinking."
By and large, trappers are proving their worth and fighting to reverse misconceptions. Most modern trappers are like the guy next door, trying to earn a few extra dollars from his or her hobby. They enjoy nature and developing and using skills necessary to outwit wild animals. Their income from trapping is distributed into the economy and a useful, renewable product is provided. The capital from furtaking licenses is beneficial as well, since it is used to aid conservation management.
Throw in the propensity to maintain animals at regulated levels while keeping overall populations healthier, and legal trapping places an argument to be considered a win-win situation.
Send e-mail to joutdoors2@msn.com.
