Read Ebook: How to Make and Set Traps Including Hints on How to Trap Moles Weasels Otter Rats Squirrels and Birds; Also How to Cure Skins by Keene J Harrington John Harrington

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Emphatically I declare it--a weasel never relinquishes its quarry till the life's blood has been sucked and the brain extracted and eaten. Then wasteful as the little tyrant is, the rats may have the remainder, whilst it seeks for more prey. Its little finger-thick body and black, venom-leaden eyes seem the incarnation of destructiveness, whilst over the sharp incisive teeth rows might well be written

"Ch'entrate lasciate ogni speranza,"

the terrible epigraph Dante, in his wonderful "Divina Commedia," saw inscribed over the portals of the infernal regions.

There is one method of capturing weasels which I have found very useful, though it entails the loss of an innocent live bird in many cases. Form a sort of oblong square with brushwood and close it all in except two narrow lanes leading to the center, at which point peg down a young chicken or bird. Set the traps, as closely concealed as possible at the ends of these lanes, so that neither by ingress nor egress can the weasel escape without the chance of being caught. Each trap should be set very lightly, and in some dry ditch near a covert, or by the side of a wall, or, in fact, in any likely spot recognized by the trained eye.

Here is another bad character in the polecat, or foumart, and as it is the largest of the two, it commonly does most damage, though in saying this I really am not sure I can place either or them first in this respect. The weasel and polecat are unmitigated robbers and assassins, and according to opportunity are given indifferently to bad habits of the worst character. The polecat is, however, nearly sixteen inches from that to eighteen inches in length, and its bite is terrific and sometimes poisonous. Beware, therefore, of it when releasing one caught in a trap; in fact, as I before impressed on you, "kill it first." The body of the polecat has a woolly undercoat of pale yellow, while the longer hairs are of a deep glossy brown.

Its habits are very similar to those of the weasel, and it commonly kills chickens by biting the head off and then sucking the blood, leaving perhaps a dozen bodies as mementoes of its visitation. I have known it to catch fish, and I caught one in a trap, set as I supposed at the time, for an otter. The otter turned out to be a polecat, however, which measured, exclusive of the tail, fourteen inches. Eels seemed to be the prey for which it took water, as I had previously found the remains of several half-eaten on the shore.

This circumstance was a strange one to me, and altogether exceptional, until I looked up my natural history books, when I found that Bewick refers to a similar fact in his "Quadrupeds." He says:--"During a severe storm one of these animals was traced in the snow from the side of a rivulet to its hole at some distance from it.... Its hole was examined, the foumart taken, and eleven fine eels were discovered as the fruits of its nocturnal exertions. The marks on the snow were found to have been made by the motions of the eels while in the creature's mouth." We have no reason for doubting Bewick, but it is certain that the polecat must have extracted the eels from either beneath stones or mud, where, during cold weather such as described, it is their infallible habit to retire in a semi-torpid condition.

In trapping it use a strong gin, and set very lightly. The baits are precisely similar to those for the weasel. Be, above all, careful to use the naked hands as little as possible.

Rats may, I think, fairly lay claim to being the most mischievous of all vermin. They are fellows of irreclaimably bad habits, and never so happy as when devouring or destroying something. Artemus Ward has placed it on record that "Injins is pisen wherever you meet 'em," and the same might be said of rats. In that exquisitely whimsical poem of Browning's, "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," we are told that the townspeople were plagued emphatically with

Hundreds on hundreds of tales relating to its cunning or intelligence might be cited until you were heartily tired of reading, much less I of writing. How rats will bite holes in leaden pipes, attack the face of a sleeping infant--an instance of which I might relate from actual knowledge--how they devour each other, leaving only the skin turned inside out as neatly as you could turn a stocking, and last, but far from least, how they have been trained to perform a drama in pantomime and various other tricks quite too numerous to refer to here. The rat is practically omnivorous, and so gets his living where more select appetites and digestions would starve. "Hit him 'ard, he ain't a' got no friends," as was said of the pauper boy in "Oliver Twist." Every creature's hand seems turned against him, and we, agreeably to this bent of nature, will now proceed to compass his destruction by means of trapping.

Unquestionably the best trap is the common iron gin. Everybody knows what that is like, with its centre plate and formidable rows of teeth on either side the jaws. I shall therefore spare you a drawing and description of it, and content myself with simply advising that the teeth be of the shape shown at Fig. 8--that is, square points fitting when closed in half circles. Now this form of tooth does not cut through the limb of the captured animal so readily as the saw-shaped does, and is preferable on that account. Rats are very prone to gnaw through a fractured limb and free themselves--they will not do this nearly so readily, however, if the teeth be of the shape indicated. This is also the best shape for the capture of other vermin, as we shall see as these chapters proceed.

In all cases a chain about eighteen inches is attached by means of an S hook in the gin. A swivel should be placed about the middle, and a ring of about an inch and a quarter should terminate it. A good stout stake, about eighteen inches long, is also necessary, and ash is particularly recommendable if it can be procured. If it be trimmed when cut, like Fig. 9, so that a short piece of branch keeps the ring from slipping off, so much the better. Another tool which is ever useful when gins are being set is a hammer shaped something like Fig. 10. You will see that it has a broad, hatchet-like form to it instead of the claws of an ordinary hammer, and this is for cutting into the earth, separating roots, etc. In twenty ways it comes in useful, so I advise my readers to get one made after this pattern.

Be careful in setting your trap to keep your fingers well away from the teeth, and to do this observe the following method. Place your right foot upon the spring firmly, and as the jaws fall back, quickly lift the catch over with your right hand; then, without relaxing pressure, raise the plate of the trap from underneath until it allows of the catch to meet the nick in the plate. Set them lightly or hard, according to the animal to be trapped. Experience will soon enable you to judge how this should be for a rat. A fine sieve is generally used by trappers to sift dirt over the trap when set, but you can dispense with this if you wear gloves. In rat-trapping, by the by, always wear thick gloves; rats can smell you infallibly.

A capital bait for old poaching rats--such as would not hesitate to kill your spring chickens or young rabbits--is the drawing of game of any sort, or the young of pigeons or young birds. I have also found the following a capital dodge to enable one to overcome the cunning of an old buck rat. Get some sprats and pound them. Put them in glass bottles and cork and seal, and hang them up in the sun for three weeks or so, or put them on a dung-hill of moderate heat. This will entirely decompose and resolve them into an oily substance exceedingly bad smelling. Pour some of this on a rag and drag it about from a common center where the trap is, and indeed it is well to drag it after one as the traps are seen to successively. The trap bait should be roasted salt fish. A kippered herring does famously, and a few drops of oil of aniseed can be put on the bait. I have known this to be exceedingly successful.

A similar sort of treatment is necessary for the water-rat. There is, however, but little necessity to use baits if the trap be set under water at the spot where the creature emerges. The precise place can be easily seen, and its freshness or staleness as a "run" be determined in the same way as that of a brown rat. The water-rat is easily distinguished from its cousin the brown by the tail of the former being covered with hair and that of the latter with scales, of which there are 200 rows. It must not be supposed, however, because the water-rat derives its living from the water chiefly that it is not a destructive creature inland. A very interesting writer says: "We have seen water-rats cross a wide meadow, climb the stalks of the dwarf beans, and after detaching the pods with their teeth, shell the beans in a most woman-like manner." They are also said to mount vines and feed on grapes, and I can verify that they are fond of plums from the following incident:

Between my study window and the margin of a stream at the foot of my garden stand two tall trees of the bullace plum, and this year they have been unusually full of fruit. I placed a ladder against one of the trees in order to pick the plums, but rain or some other interference prevented my doing so at the intended time; thus the ladder remained for some days. Now I have a large tabby cat, and besides a good rat-killer she is fond of birds, and strangely enough will climb trees and spring at a bird within reach, in nine cases out of ten falling to the ground with her captive in her mouth. As I sat writing one morning Tabby mounted her coign of vantage by means of the ladder, and scaled to the topmost height, enjoying the sunshine, and not, I fancy, on this occasion waiting for prey. However, good things come when least expected, and presently Tabby and I both beheld a large water-rat--unseen by the latter, of course--approach the ladder, and after peering slyly round, began to mount it, which he did with remarkable agility. On reaching the first large branch he stepped on it, and without the least hesitation made for a cluster of the plums and began his feast. I told you Tabby saw him as well as I, and I would have given much too if she had not. As Mr. Rat sat absorbed with his back to her, like a jungle leopard, creeping with silent certainty on its innocent, unsuspecting prey, Tabby slowly approached, and the steadfast glare in her greenish eyes was full of a deadly purpose, which gathered strength as she progressed. Presently, when within three feet of the still gourmandizing rat, her fell purpose culminated in a terrific but unerring spring, which tumbled rat and cat out of the tree to the ground. Habet! alas! he had it, and after a few terrific crunches of her jaws Tabby rose from the body proudly, with swinging tail and a victorious air, which as plainly as language conveyed infinite self-complacency at the death-dealing deed.

When a rat is caught in a gin always be careful to keep your hand at a distance on releasing it. In fact, do not let it go at all, but kill it at once. I do not like the idea of letting a suffering animal be farther tormented by dogs, or even cats. There can be no true sport in it except, perhaps, to the savage instincts of the dog, and why a human being should find cruel sport for a dog I cannot tell you.

The other species, the black rat , is perhaps a more ancient importation even than the brown. It is, however, scarcer than either of the others. Its colors are grayish black above and ash-colored, and beneath it is about seven and a half inches long when full grown.

Ferrets are often employed to aid in exterminating the brown rat. The ferret is of no use whatever for the water-rat, though it is certainly extremely useful when barns, wood-heaps, and such like erections are infested. The gun is the thing, in the hands of an experienced sportsman, to kill them as the ferrets force them to leave their homes, but a few sharp dogs and a half dozen sharp school-fellows with sticks will produce very certain destruction. Be careful not to mistake the head of a ferret coming out of a hole for that of a rat, as once happened to me in this wise. I was staying at a farm-house, and it was proposed one fine December morning to try an hour or two's ferreting. My school chum, with whom I was staying, possessed some very tame and good working ferrets, one in particular, a fine brownish dog ferret, by which he set great store. The great wheat barn was to be laid siege to, and he being a good shot and older than I, took down his gun and loaded it preparatory to starting.

The otter is one of the most graceful of living creatures, but as a fisherman and fishculturist, I candidly confess that I look on him as a detestable nuisance on my river. What says the poet!

"Nor spears That bristle on his back defend the perch From his wide, greedy jaws; nor burnished mail The yellow carp; nor all his arts can save Th' insinuating eel, that hides his head Beneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes The crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride And beauty of the stream."

This is a faithful picture of the otter's remorseless and predacious nature. I caught one the other day in an eel-grate, whither he had doubtless gone for the eels. The biter was, however, bit, for the rush of water was too powerful, and on opening the door in the morning I found him dead and stiff.

The otter usually kills many more fish than it actually wants for food, and as otters generally hunt in pairs, it is not uncommon to find in the morning as many as thirteen or fourteen prime trout--in an ordinarily plentiful river, of course--killed and only partly eaten. Like the lord mayor's jester, however, the otter knows what is good, or, indeed, best, for it eats away the shoulders of the fish, leaving the rest to rot or be devoured by rats.

If the otter be taken young, and great kindness and care be shown it, it may be transferred from the category of vermin into that of "pets," and I do not think there is a much more interesting pet in existence, and I recollect one which used to run about after its master at Eton, England, some years since. A friend of mine took a tame one from an old poacher which the latter had constantly employed to catch fish and bring to him. My friend tells me that when he caught the poacher he had some sixty fine trout, scarcely injured, in a bag, all of which had been captured by the otter.

There are many instances of a similar character referred to in the natural history books which I cannot produce here. It is sufficient to say that otter-taming, and even the utilizing of the creature for fishing purposes, is by no means uncommon.

The otter is usually hunted with dogs of a particular breed, but I shall not attempt to describe this species of sport in this place. There are those who object to hunting on principle, and I am not bigoted enough to say they are altogether wrong. Certain, however, it is that otter hunting is remarkably exhilarating, and there is a great deal of fun to be got out of the mishaps which are sure to ensue to the hunters as they scamper and splash and rush and dash over the bowlders, through bush and brier and stream and rivulet, till the wily brute is either caught or "kenneled." So far as we are now concerned, I shall content myself with telling you how to trap this vermin of the water, and if ever you become possessed of a stream or lake of fish do not forget that the otter is your chiefest enemy--excepting the human poacher, of course.

Now we will presume you are one morning early taking a walk by the side of your favorite stream. On each side the willows and alders bend over the water and their roots clutch the banks with rugged fingers, forming coverts for rats, moorhens, dabchicks, and other small fry, as well as for the quiet-loving trout.

Presently, as you attentively note these features, you are aware of a sort of footpath proceeding from the stream, and on looking closer you notice that fresh excrement has been left and that footprints of a dog-like animal are to be seen in the soft earth. Follow this trail and perchance, ere many steps have been taken, you come upon the carmine-spotted body of a two-pound trout, minus head and shoulders, or a pound silver eel with its broadest part eaten away. You now know that an otter has been at work, and you must vow that he shall die. But how? Listen. The track is fresh. Good! Procure the largest rabbit-gin you can, and after attaching it firmly to a stake driven under water, drive two more sticks under water exactly where the otter comes ashore, and set it upon them. Do not bait the trap at all, or the otter will not come near, but simply set it under water, so that when his ottership comes to bank with his ill-gotten booty he puts his foot on the plate of the gin. A good plan also, where this one is not practicable, is to carefully cut up a sod of dirt in the pathway of the otter, and set the gin very gingerly, covering it up completely with short grass and a sprinkling of dirt. In any case use gloves, so that your hands are not smelt, for, strange as it may seem in an animal getting its food by sight, the sense of smell is exquisitely developed in the otter. When caught be very careful not to handle him. His teeth are "orful."

Daniel, in his "Rural Sports," says "the trap must be set in and covered with mud to prevent the otter seeing it. The instant the trap strikes, the otter plunges into the water with it, when its weight preventing his rising to the surface soon destroys him." But I incline to my own plan in preference. Of course, if the "spoor," "spraint," or "seal" cannot be seen it is advisable to set several traps at intervals along the bank, covering them lightly with moss.

At the commencement of this series of articles I referred to the squirrel, and quoted the words in which Mr. Ruskin describes his unbounded admiration for this sprightly little fellow. The squirrel has a very voracious appetite, however, and if he once by accident or design tastes the luscious richness of pheasant or partridge egg he becomes a poacher of very extreme character. Game-keepers do not object to squirrels as a rule, as long as they confine themselves to those parts of a covert where game are not, though in the case of largely stocked preserves these parts are not easily found.

When Master "Squiggy," however, takes to sucking eggs and teaching his grandmother and uncles, aunts and cousins, to do the same, then it becomes a manifest duty to snare him and take him away if you do not kill him. Of course it is not likely that my boy readers will be called upon to assist professionally in such a proceeding, but I will briefly describe how squirrels may be caught alive, for when removed from the place of mischief they make capital pets after a time of patience and taming.

It is necessary for two to embark in the proceedings that follow. One is the climber, and he, I need scarcely say, should be a tolerably good one. A pair of climbing irons are almost indispensable, and I should certainly advise boys to get them. He is also provided with a long pole with a loop of fine twisted brass wire attached to it .

Now let us term these two warriors A and B. Having spotted a squirrel and observed him run up a tree, A attaches his irons and prepares to climb. Before this is done B stands beneath the tree and attracts the squirrel's attention, and keeps his eye fixed on him, B never moving from where he stands. Meanwhile A is gradually approaching from behind the squirrel, and when he is near enough he slips the loop over the creature's head, gives a sharp wrench, and lets the pole, squirrel, and all drop to the ground to be secured by B. Of course the squirrel is almost choked, but a firm hand in a thick leather glove soon releases the frightened animal, and you have to do with him as your pleasure will. You ought to take a bag with you and instantly pop him into it. This is the way the men catch squirrels in the country, and is far better than trapping them so as to cause pain.

I have thus told you how to catch squirrels without materially hurting them, and I suppose I may as well tell you how to keep them. Well, having caught the lively young gentleman, keep him in the dark for a day or two, only occasionally letting him get a glance of the outer world. Feed him during this period with beechnuts, chestnuts, and by all means let him have plenty of water. After a time you may take away all covering from his cage and let him, like yourself, enjoy the glories of the sunlight. In a very short space of time his captivity will cease to be so irksome, especially if for the first week or two you use him to only seeing yourself near.

The squirrel, or at least the common red one of our forest, seems remarkably intelligent, and its humors vary almost as much in comparison as those of a child. I kept four, having brought them up from the nest, and their antics and different moods were a source of continued amusement. Sometimes Tom would quarrel with a sort of mimic anger with Jill, and Jim and Sam were almost continually finding fault with each other over poor unfortunate Lady Jill, whose chief misfortune seemed to be that she preferred Tom to either of the others. The affection seemed to be returned, for if we gave a piece of potato to Tom he instantly passed it over to Jill and shared it. Sometimes entire good-humor would prevail, when the gambols with each other were a very pretty sight. This was generally on a fine sunny spring morning after a good meal of nuts. The cage was large, and a sort of leap-frog was kept up for half an hour, ending by somebody getting Tom's temper out over Miss Jill. I never had a bite from either, and this I attribute to my never handling them unnecessarily, and never being afraid to take hold of them carefully but firmly.

Their end was a sad one. I acquired a splendid Persian cat, and the strangeness of a new habitation made Miss Pussy very spiteful and bad-tempered. One day I had turned out the four squirrels in order to clean the cage thoroughly, and they as usual betook themselves out of the window. With a sudden bound Puss had poor Jill, and with one scrunch she was dead. Puss then bounded after the others, and they escaping up a large yew tree I lost sight of all but one forever. What ultimately became of Jim and Sam I never knew, but Tom would often show himself in the tree and look down with eyes which seemed to say mournfully, "Ah, you've killed my little wife between you, and I'm not such a coon as to trust myself within range of her murderers." Shortly after this we removed, and thus ended my squirrel-keeping, not, however, without much regret on my side at least.

Bird-catching has always a fascination for boys, and, indeed, in my opinion, as a harmless but most interesting pastime, it may be compared not unfavorably with fishing.

"But," I hear some one say, "is it not cruel to catch and imprison or kill our pretty feathered friends, and if so, is it not wrong to teach boys cruelty?" I answer emphatically "No" to the first of these, and that reply does away with the other question.

It is not cruel to catch the hawk that preys on kindred species, as does the shark or pike, or the beautiful kingfisher that ruthlessly slaughters your innocent baby trout, or the weird and ghostly heron, whose insatiable maw will ever cry, "Give! Give!" like the daughters of the horseleech, from every inhabited stream, or the bad-mannered crow, or the mischievous jay with his egg-eating proclivities.

Then there are some birds, such as pigeons, blackbirds, thrushes, redwings and plovers, and the water-fowl, such as moorhens, widgeon, teal, ducks, etc., which are excellent eating, and who shall say that to kill and eat necessarily implies cruelty?

"But about the pretty song-birds?" you say. Well, now, what bird is happier in captivity than your consequential cock bullfinch, or merry-voiced chaffinch? And are there more annoying birds in existence to those who live by the soil? If you doubt me, go and ask the gardener and hear what he says about Chaffy's and Bully's work on the fruitbuds. Then remember what present pleasure the joyous song of the well-fed and warmly-caged linnet or siskin gives to all; but perchance most of all to some one whose hours are spent wearily on the bed of pain.

Of course, catching birds for the mere sake of doing it is wrong, and pray is not fishing liable to the same objection? To go out for the mere purpose of bringing home lots of fish, which are afterwards put to no use, is an abuse of an otherwise harmless sport to which such great and good men as Izaak Walton, Sir Henry Wotton, Archbishop Paley, Charles Kingsley, Mr. John Bright, and many others, have been and are devoted.

Finally, in defense of the bird catcher's art, let me urge the benefit young people derive from an intimate knowledge of the natural history of birds and their surroundings. As in fishing the best naturalist in fish is invariably the best angler, so whether he be scientific or not, the best ornithologist is, by virtue of his knowledge, inevitably the most successful bird-catcher. Nothing can conduce to an unaffected love of nature--the "time vesture" of God, Carlyle terms it--more readily than close observation of the habits, instincts, and intelligences of the creatures over which man has been given dominion.

Having then in some sort justified bird-catching, if indeed this was needed, let me say how I intend treating the subject in the few following chapters. First, with your attention, I will refer to bird-catching by net; secondly, catching birds by bird-lime; and thirdly, trapping birds, which latter division will embrace the various use of the springs, traps, snares, gins, etc., in vogue amongst professional trappers, game-keepers and others. As the directions will be severely practical, any one will be able to succeed from them--assuming, of course, he has the requisite patience. There is one thing, however, to be borne in mind, that is--there is a Wild Birds' Preservation Act, which, inefficient and muddling as it is, is nevertheless the law of the land, and in it a close time is provided, during which bird-catching is illegal.

There are several sorts of nets used for various species of birds, but for song birds the most common is termed the clap-net, of which Fig. 1 is an outline representation. In looking carefully at it you will see I have left one side without netting; this, however, should of course have a net; consider, therefore, the two sides as similar to that on which the net is shown.

Now the net from which the drawing was taken was somewhat different from the usual kind. Those ordinarily used are of twine, and netted diagonally with mesh three quarter inches.

This one, however, if of silk undressed fishing line, and of half-inch mesh, netted with a square mesh instead of diamond-shape or diagonal. At each end of it are attached jointed poles which fit in each other like joints of a fishing-rod; these are when put together six feet six inches in length, but the net itself is broader to allow of a certain amount of bagging.

If this were not so the birds would be liable to run along underneath the net and escape, whereas as now arranged they entangle themselves in the soft silk meshes. Of course silk is not necessary, but it is best if expense is no object. A twine net will do very well for boys, and if they have mastered the instructions for netting they need have no difficulty in making their own.

The play-bird is a bird of the same kind as those sought to be captured, which is attached by means of miniature harness to the play-stick, and it being comparatively free it proves very attractive . C is the bird. This stick is of three parts: A, a piece of wood made like Fig. 3; and B, a piece of brass tubing beaten flat at one end and placed on the stick, which may be a hazel or ash twig. A hole is punctured through this tube, and a peg passed through it holds it in its place, as well as serving as an axle on which its movements work as prompted by the play-line, which passes also through A, as shown in Fig. 2.

I have said the bird is harnessed and tethered to the stick at C . This harnessing is perfectly painless to the little fellow, and consists of a sort of double loop affixed to a swivel . The head of the bird is passed through and the loops are drawn down over and round its wings close to the body. Of course they are drawn and tied just tight enough to fit the body, and the swivel is attached; then a piece of fine twine of about a foot and a half in length connects the play-bird with its stick. The method of using this bird is as follows: Directly the call-birds--which are cock birds in full song--have attracted others of their species, the bird-catcher gently pulls the play line, raising and lowering the stick. This prompts the play-bird to use its wings in a perfectly natural manner, and the consequence is, the wild birds becoming bolder at seeing one of their brethren so apparently unrestrained, venture in the forbidden space, and with no fear visible at once proceed to exchange civilities. As soon as the bird-catcher observes the bird well in the reach of the nets, he pulls swiftly and strongly at C , and the nets close over both the play or decoy bird and those he has innocently lured to their captivity. Now this in no case injures them, and running up, the bird-catcher places them in a large airy cage opening inwards, and commonly covers them over with a cloth, lest in the first moments of restraint they injure themselves against the bars. Two or more play-birds should be used, so that not one may be over-tired.

Thus you have the whole apparatus of "clap"-netting and its use explained. Now for a few hints as to where to set a net. First, do not forget to mark the habits of the birds yourself, and so learn where to find them at all seasons. Larks and linnets are easily found in open plains and by water brooks, goldfinches come in autumn to feed off the thistledown, starling swarm as winter comes on and are met with in all sorts of pastures where some growth of underwood or deciduous trees are found. For shy birds let your full line be quite forty yards long; and a good plan for blackbirds, starlings, and other wary birds is to lay your nets and get behind a hedge or other hiding-place. A little ingenuity in this way will often procure a goodly stroke of success. The other morning after a frost I caught fourteen blackbirds close to a long laurel hedge, hiding myself in a large rhododendron.

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