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One winter day, I was doing my daily walk checking my traps in the woods. At the time my trap line was a triangle starting near the barn, crossing the creek and going to the southeast corner of our land, over to the southwest corner, then crossing the creek again on the way back.
I was angry that I'd caught two mink but something had eaten most of them. I saw wolf tracks near them and some of my other traps near the southwest corner. The wolf had circled all three empty traps, but hadn't gotten within two feet of them.
As I crested the hill near my trap at the corner of my land, I saw a man standing about ten yards from a wolf caught in a trap! They were fifty or so yards from me, on tribal land that adjoined mine. He was taking a blanket out of his backpack. As I approached I saw he was a tall Native American, or what we called an 'Indian' at the time. In my 24 years, I'd never talked to a person who wasn't White before. I was nervous and quite suspicious, but resisted the urge to take the 30/30 rifle from my shoulder or the.22 pistol from my belt. I thought I'd seen him at the fur trader's a few times. I held up my hand and called out, "Hi, I'm Bruce. My land ends at the tree over there." I pointed to it.
He waved back. "Hello. I'm Pine, Pinesong Rivers. Help me release him."
"What? Wolf pelts go for thirty bucks! That's a week's pay!"
He looked at me disapprovingly and frowned. "The pack's leader is getting old and he's their only young male. They'll be in trouble without him. I'll toss the blanket over his head and grab him. You release the trap."
I admired his bravery. There's no way I'd get my hand near a wild wolf's mouth! I shrugged. "Okay, if you're sure." I took out my trap bar, which was like a crowbar but thinner and lighter.
"On three. One, two, THREE!" He threw the blanket over the wolf's head and grabbed him around the neck, while I pushed the spring down to release the trap. A second later, the wolf was twenty yards away and running fast.
Pine said, "It's good he won't come back for a long time. He ate some of my muskrats."
"He got a couple of my mink, too."
"I use conibear 110 traps in a wood box for mink, so coyotes and wolves don't get 'em."
"Hmmm. I have good luck with number 2 traps, but a coyote ate one last year too. Using a box is a good idea. Thanks!"
"You're the culvert guy, right? My nephew could use a job next summer, if you need more diggers."
"Sure. Have him visit me sometime."
I saw Pine near the border between my land and the tribe's a few more times that year, and we swapped stories and ideas. We eventually became good friends and his nephew James worked for me a couple of summers.
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Two days before Thanksgiving I brought Jake and Nora some cheese, butter, and two rabbits I'd shot. I invited them to Thanksgiving dinner, and they happily accepted. Jake said he wished they had more children, partly for help with the farm work, and I agreed. For four years after the birth of their first son Roger, they had no luck getting pregnant. My Elaine hadn't gotten pregnant in eight years of marriage either.
While Jake walked down their long driveway to get the mail, Nora revealed a big secret. Elaine didn't want any more kids, so at the right time of the month she drank a special tea. As I recall it had petals from two kinds of flowers, plus roots and seeds from a certain plant. It would stop a baby from growing in her! She hadn't even told me she didn't want more kids!
Nora wondered if their problem was with Jake. She didn't think it was her, since she had a son. She made me uncomfortable with the fact that for over three years they'd made whoopie at least twice a week, which was triple what I got. She blushed as she also told me Jake was willing to go without the good stuff if she kissed the right part of him the right way. She was content doing it for him often, since he took great care of her and her son.
My face must have been as red as hers when Jake handed Nora a letter from her mother and drastically changed the subject. "I have some spare lumber from building the new hog barn. I think there's enough left for an ice fishing shack. Would you give me a hand building one and getting it to the lake, Bruce?"