The following article first appeared in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, Apr. 1, 2006, and is reproduced with the author's permission.

Tradition

The cull of the wild
Some still carry on state's longtime tradition

By Mark Hoffman

While many people might think of trapping as a closed chapter in Wisconsin history, for grandmother and mother Gwen Campbell, it's a way to bond with and educate her four children.

"I've passed it on to all my kids and the choice is going to be theirs. I hope that they show it to their kids as well and give their kids the option of doing this in the future," says the rural Adams County resident.

Trapping offers Campbell's 15-year-old daughter, Brittney, the opportunity to spend time with someone she loves.

"I'm out with my best friend, my mom," says Brittney.

"The most exciting thing is going out to your sets in the morning and seeing some animal in it, whether it be a possum, raccoon or even a squirrel," says Brittney. "If it's out in our backyard, we basically run up to the house yelling 'I got one! I got one!' "

Brittney also helps teach trapping education classes, which the state requires before it grants trapping licenses; she is the second youngest trapper education coordinator in the state.

For Campbell, working a trap line brings her closer to nature.

"It's not the money, because I spend more than I make. We get out in the fresh air; they learn something every time they're out there," she says.

"Every time we go out in the woods, I use it as a lesson. Through me they are learning to love the land like I do; they're learning to respect what's there and hopefully through me preserve it for future generations and their kids.

"Something I've harvested myself tastes so much better than a steak from the restaurant or the store because I've put my time and energy into harvesting it, preparing it, so that my family can enjoy. I would say probably 95% of the meat I put on our table is wild game."

Successful and ethical trappers need to be observant naturalists and stewards of the land.

"A trapper is probably the finest naturalist in today's landscape," said John Olson, furbearer biologist with the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources. "(Trappers) have to read (signs) and understand behavior, understand where an animal is and what time of day or night it is there and selectively set, based on laws and regulations, traps or restraining devices to capture that type of animal, whether it is a muskrat in a marsh or a coyote in a back pasture."

An ethical trapper spreads traps over a large area to maintain a stable animal population.

"I'm not a heartless killer; I've let so many animals go. I don't go in and wipe out a population. If I wipe out a population, my kids ain't going to have anything to look at," says Campbell.

"I go out there and enjoy what God gave us. He only gave us just so much. If you ruin the surroundings, leave garbage behind, it hurts innocent creatures that don't need to be harmed."

Some days the family can check 30 traps over 40 miles that all come up empty.

"If you caught something every time, it'd be called catching, not trapping," says family friend and fellow trapper Jerry Drolshagen.

This season, Campbell's family has caught 20 to 30 raccoons, three foxes and at least a dozen possum - also known as "grinners" because of the way they look as road kill.

"Trapping, to me, is a challenge; you got to outwit, learn how to read the sign, the habits of the animals, what they like, what they don't like. You're basically trying to outsmart an animal to capture them," he said.

Campbell, who also teaches state-mandated trapper education courses, believes trapping will continue. "If I have 10 students, the likelihood that all 10 of them will trap for the rest of their life is very slim, but one or two will continue."

Most small animals are caught in body-grip traps, which cause a relatively quick death by striking and clamping forces. All above-ground traps must be checked daily; water traps must be checked every four days unless iced in, according to state regulations.

The mental picture of animal traps that many people might have, and those depicted in cartoons from time to time, are outdated but still cause problems for trapping, trappers say.

"You've got the Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner and the Acme Company. In those (cartoons), they set these huge traps with springs that would come in and catch him around the neck. That doesn't happen. Those are cartoons. This is reality," says Campbell. They are illegal to use, unless they are used underwater where death is by drowning.

Cable restraints (a type of snare) can be used to capture a larger animal alive, giving the trapper the option of letting it go or dispatching it, usually with a .22 caliber shot to the head. A properly used cable restraint does not choke the animal, according to Olson.

"A foothold is made to hold the animal; cable restraints are like a leash on a dog. They're made to capture the animal around the neck and hold them like you would leash a dog. In fact, if you get a domestic animal like a dog in a cable restraint, it will be sitting there wagging its tail waiting for you to take him for a walk because they think they are on a leash."

But Camilla Fox, director of wildlife programs for the Animal Protection Institute, counters Olson's view.

"These claims about snares being humane and holding them calmly and peacefully and finding them wagging their tails, I'd like to see that on video. I've seen plenty of footage demonstrating either an animal dead in a trap or very injured. That's the kind of footage that demonstrates the true reality of (an) animal that has been in a trap for hours. Any animal that is restrained is going to struggle for his or her freedom and in so doing is going to injure himself or herself."

Proponents and opponents do agree on one issue, says Olson: "Everyone is watching you. When you're out there trapping, if you make a mistake, everybody knows it; the world knows it very quickly."

This kind of attention has made many trappers secretive about what they do because they're unsure of the reactions from non-trappers, and they're concerned about possible harassment.

Drolshagen agrees. "Today I don't discuss my trapping with someone I don't know. I don't know who they are, what they are or how they are going to react. If I say I have 10 traps in that creek down there, I might lose 10 traps." Traps can cost $40 to $200.

The possible disapproval of others will not deter Campbell.

"If I had to (make) a choice to live (someplace else)," she says, "it would always be in an area where I could trap because out there (it) is different than hunting. When hunting, I can go out in the woods and shoot anything, no big deal. But trapping is special in the respect that you come to know the land, you come to know the animals, you come to know the personalities behind them. ... To me, it's not a sport, it's a passion."

It's a battle of trapper tradition vs. animal protection

The fur trade was a major reason why Europeans settled in the land that became Wisconsin. Its economic impact was important for nearly two centuries after French explorer Jean Nicolet arrived on the shores of Green Bay in 1634.

According to local historian John Gurda, furs were leaving this region even before Nicolet's arrival via trade routes that were mediated by local Indians.

But today, people involved in trapping say they do not know anyone here who makes a living doing it full time.

"The standard trapper you think of ... the person who (made) part of their living through trapping and was real close to the land, has been replaced by a trapper who does it now more as a legitimate outdoor activity that supplements their income," says John Olson, furbearer biologist with the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.

Today nearly 20,000 people who have patron's licenses have indicated an interest in trapping, but the number of serious trappers is estimated to be about 4,000.

"We did have more trappers when we were a rural society, and I think our trapper numbers continue to decline (historically) as there is a mass movement toward urban areas.

"(But) in today's world, we're seeing a slow increase in trapper numbers here in the Midwest," says Olson.

The typical trapper is a male in his mid-40s with less than $50,000 in household income; he lives in a rural or small community.

"I think for a while there in the '70s and the '80s there was a growing resentment (about) trapping as a result of some strong anti-trapping campaigns by those who want to stop all use of animals, whether they are domestic or wild," says Olson. "We're slowly seeing a turnaround. Fur is back in fashion now. Fur prices have increased over the last 10 years. We've seen huge countries like China and Russia opening up their doors to fur."

Camilla Fox, director of wildlife programs for the Animal Protection Institute, has a different viewpoint.

"I think animal advocates have been successful to a certain degree (in) showing the public exactly what happens on a trap line. I think the success (of trapping opponents) started when footage was obtained showing what actually happened to an animal when they are trapped and sit in that trap for hours."

This sentiment is echoed by Kristin Leppert, manager of the fur campaign for the Humane Society of the United States. "Women are realizing they don't need to wear fur to be warm or fashionable."

Olson says a survey from about eight years ago reveals that trapping also has an image problem among wildlife professionals.

"We did a survey of International Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies ... surveyed professionals, wildlife biologists, wildlife researchers, university professors nationwide on a number of questions. We basically asked them, 'What do you think of trapping? Do you support modern-day trapping in the world that we see today?' Fifty percent of them said 'no.'

"If we're lucky, half of them understand the value of modern-day trapping in our furbearer management programs. That was quite a rude awakening for us."

Since then, the DNR and the Wisconsin Trappers Association have started a larger education effort with other state agencies and outdoor groups on the value of trapping.

"We're actually looking at humaneness of different restraining devices on animals. The industry is doing the same thing - looking at, making sure, we have tools that are highly humane, highly selective and cause the least amount of injury. A trapper doesn't want to injure the animal. They want to restrain the animal so that they can harvest it or release it. Say it's an animal they don't want to keep, like an endangered species."

The DNR captures threatened species, such as gray wolves, with foothold traps for research. It has used traps to help restore the river otter population in Midwestern states.

Another reason for the decline of trapping is that the wholesale price of furs has not kept pace with inflation.

"Years ago, probably in the 1950s, you could have gotten almost as much as you do now. In the '70s and '80s, coon was 40 bucks or better and now they are down (to) 15 to 17 to 20 bucks," according to Virgil Schroeder of North American Fur Auctions.

Current auction prices for furs are about $15 to $20 for raccoon, $25 to $30 for beaver, $50 for fishers, and $75 to $160 for Wisconsin bobcats. Bobcat pelts from western states are more valuable.

The lowly muskrat will fetch about $5, or as trappers say, "gas money."

This story is part of an occasional series that takes a closer look at traditions, occupations, cultures and icons that make up the fabric of Wisconsin life but are on the verge of disappearing. If you have an idea, please contact Mark Hoffman at mhoffman@journalsentinel.com.

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