Missing my treasures

I walked into the barn room and was taken back by the stark
emptiness This is the room where I finish the furs I take from my
trap line. 

At the beginning of the season there are just a few pelts, but
more are added each day.  Soon, the room seems crowded with the
dried skins of coyotes, raccoons, muskrats and more. All of them
represent some measure of work, a measure of accomplishment.

Many of them are personal trophies – much like a deer mount that
brings back memories each time the hunter looks at it. The dried
pelts hanging from the ceiling spawn fond recollections of the
special days, special challenges and little triumphs I’ve
experienced. A room full of them!

Trophies or not, selling the pelts is a part of trapping – to
cycle the furs into the world of commerce so they can be turned
into beautiful, warm coats. A couple of days earlier I’d sacked my
trophies, labeled them and loaded them onto a truck. My trophy room
is empty.

Once the pelts are sold, I’ll get a check for their value.
 Somehow, it doesn’t seem a fair trade.

 

Categories: Michigan – Mike Schoonveld

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