By: Jim Fitzpatrick

Email: jim@nunica.com

Local Farmer in Polkton Township writes for the Coopersville Observer.

Along Brandy Creek

By Jim Fitzpatrick

 

The Coopersville Observer  October 10, 2011- - No. 117

The old man’s given name was Grady. However, Chris B. referred to him respectfully as “Old Trapper”; as the story of their turtle trapping days was relived by Chris a few days ago there in his yard along 90^th Avenue, just up the hill from Rice's Bayou. Old Trapper was a long ago married into the family relative on his mom's side as far as Chris could best figure it. And that was forty some years ago!

 

Old Trapper would show up every spring in early April at the start of turtle trapping season down on the bayou. Chris, still a young boy in school and living at home, helped set and run the traps; twenty of them, early every morning and late in the evening each day well into June. Chris was paid “good money” for his work so didn't mind rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn when Old Trapper pulled into the yard and laid on the horn.

 

The traps were long and rectangular, closed at one end with a trap door tunnel at the other end. A line ran from the trap to the surface, connected to a piece of wood used as a float. Bait hung from the top on the inside. By the time an unsuspecting Snapping Turtle reached the bait it was too late. The door had come down and there was no way out. The traps were hand made of wood, a collapsible configuration that made for easy storage during the off season. Old Trapper and Chris would catch three, four, maybe five turtles each time they ran the traps. According to Chris, some of those critters were as big around as the top of a bushel basket. They were sold as a delicacy to be served in local area restaurants.

 

Those were fine days for Chris, running the traps with Old Trapper each spring and the income that went with it. He looked forward to the month of April each spring and the unannounced arrival of Old Trapper. Well, April arrived one particular year and no sign of Old Trapper.  By mid-May Chris had in mind that something surly was amiss. Late that summer word came that Old Trapper had died over the previous winter. Chris finished the story with a pleasant smile on his face, standing right there in the same yard where Old Trapper would drive in each morning and sound the horn on his pickup truck so long ago.

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