A few trappers and hunters have one regret about their professions. "I
wish I had known how political the whole concept was going to get," says Pete
Buist, who traps and hunts animals for a living in Alaska.
Trappers suspiciously view outsiders -- those not in the profession --
as possible animal rights "zealots," as Buist calls them, who have been known
to harass trappers.
Certainly, there are strong opinions about this profession. Those on the
opposite side of the fence don't agree with the use of animals for human
benefit -- in this case, for fur and food.
The trappers say, however, that they are actually considered the first
conservationists, controlling animal populations and collecting vital biological
data for wildlife and environmental organizations.
The process by which they trap and hunt is not inhumane, they say. Educational
classes are ongoing that teach the least painful methods of euthanizing animals
trapped or hunted, such as muskrat, nutria, wolves, bears, moose, beaver and
mink.
Protesters are able to strengthen their cause by targeting a segment of
the population. "So many people wear leather, so many people eat at McDonald's,
it is hard to get people angry about that," says Carol Wynne of the Fur Information
Council.
In fact, says Wynne, fur trappers are working with conservation officers
to trap these animals without harming the environment.
Wisconsin trapper Lee Sillars, who likes being close to nature, says contemporary
trappers are able to learn methods humane to the animals, which is much different
from when he got his start many decades ago at the age of 10.
"I respect the animals I trap and do it humanely so the animals don't
suffer," he explains. Sillars says the biggest change to the profession is
the newer, more humane equipment.
There are more furbearers now than there were before regulated trapping
and wildlife management, according to the National Trappers Association. Sillars
agrees. "Nowadays there are more furbearing animals than there were years
ago, so it shows proper management and use of fur resources."
Sillars says he traps to keep animals in their population frame healthy,
and to keep them from damaging the environment.
Trappers in Louisiana can certainly attest to nutrias' damage to the
wetlands. Under regulations set by states, trappers bring nutria populations
to manageable levels. At the same time, trappers can earn money from the pelts,
says Louisiana wildlife biologist Noel Kinler.
For Buist, his interest in the profession is monetary, but also quite straightforward.
"Trapping is a common practice in Alaska, both commercial and subsistence.
Like most people who live here, it is just what you do in the winter," he
explains.
Each trapper works their trapline, a route where they set traps to catch
animals. Learning each animal's biological habits is essential to choosing
the right traps for the right animals.
For example, says Sillars, coyotes are detected by droppings and leftovers
from its kill. "Coyotes like certain places to roam. One has to know canine
habits to locate such places," he explains.
Buist's trapline is 80 miles long. At one time, Buist and other Alaskans
used dog teams to travel the trapline in the winter, which took two to three
days. He sometimes spent the night in cabins he built along the trapline.
Now, he says he uses a snowmobile, which is quicker -- he can usually set
traps in a day.
Year-round, there is work on the trapline, much like a farmer maintains
corn and tobacco crops and chicken coops. In May, says Buist, trappers in
Alaska hunt muskrat and black bears, which dwell in berry patches. June, he
says, is the beginning of the fire season. Firefighting is how many trappers
fill their summers, says Buist.
July and August is when many trappers and hunters swap guns and traps for
nets and poles. For example, in Louisiana, shrimp and crab are caught in the
summer, says Kinler.
In September, Buist hunts moose. In October, the trapline is set up to
prepare for the trapping season, which starts in November. During December
and January, there are only two hours of daylight in Alaska and trappers trap
lynx, marten and fox.
In February, when there is more of the daylight needed to set traps, Buist
hunts wolves and sets beaver traps, which involves cutting through three to
four feet of ice. In March, wolf hunting continues.
"Nature doesn't take sides," says Sillars, referring to the often-precarious
environment in which hunters and trappers work. Setting beaver traps seems
to have confounded at least two trappers, both of whom fell through ice in
temperatures of around -30. "I got out [of the water] and my clothes froze
almost solid," remembers Sillars.
This past winter, Buist had a mishap that led to a dislocated left wrist.
"I had to drive the snowmobile one handed for 120 miles to get back to town,"
he says.
Besides hypothermia and dislocated bones, Sillars says trappers can cut
themselves on axes or knives, drown or get lost. Trappers and hunters must
be able to survive under harsh wilderness conditions. "You are at the mercy
of the environment and often you are working alone," says Kinler.