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Show ‘west “THE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Page 11 June 1, 2006 Hunting, Fishing, and Trapping from the ground to a tree and sit there while the hunter took aim and fired. In the fall of the year, I have seen them in the ledges in flocks of a hundred. These birds, like the prairie grouse and sage hen, are seldom seen in our mountains today. The deer hunt, which occupied the last ten days in October, was the prime time of the year for me. For forty years, almost without exception, | spent from three to ten days roaming the canyons of Middle Fork hunting deer. In the early days, when I lived at home with Mother and Father, a group of us boys would go hunting on horseback leading a pack horse or two and spend several days on the hunt. I still liked to hunt or fish alone. Alone, I could do as I wished. If1 wanted to lie down and nap, I could feel free to do so. If 1 wanted to change my plans and go in a different direction, it was my option. This you could not do if you were operating under a group plan. Whether in a group or alone, daylight of opening morning usually found me on top of HUNTING cont. on page 12 Historical Photo q 24 s a Oh ° a o4; fe 3 ta : y sale ha During the First World War, the price of furs went sky high. For a large, prime muskrat hide, a trapper might get as much as three dollars. My brother had a trap line and was proud of the fact that he bought his own school clothes and had money in his pocket to spend—at least during the trapping season. I told mother that I wanted to do some trapping and have some money of my own. She tried to discourage me but in the end, I prevailed. She even financed the venture for me. From her butter and egg money she bought me six shinny new Victor #1 traps. I set them in a little stream that paralleled the railroad tracks. Next morning, early, I visited my traps. A large muskrat, very much alive, was in one of the traps. Always, when I followed a trapline with my brother, the animals were dead from suffocation when he took them from the trap. This was a situation not to my liking. I picked up a stick and hit him over the head several times. The death of a rat was a terrible thing for an eight year old boy to see. Blood flowed from his mouth, eyes, and ears. Convulsions racked his body as he fought for air. After a few minutes, he was quiet save for an occasional gasp for air. Sick and trembling, I watched the spark of life disappear from the furry little body. was overcome with grief. I carried him to the shoulder of the railroad grade and cried bitter tears as I stroked the beautiful fur coat that covered him. I could not think of skinning him, so with a stick, I dug a grave and buried him near the place where I had caught him. I gathered the traps and went home. | told mother that I did not want to trap anymore. She understood and I think she knew from the beginning that I would have problems. ear or two later, several of my friends were trapping so I gave it another try. I was careful to set the traps so that I did not take an active part in the death of the little creatures. I enjoyed the trapping experience. I would hurry home from school, do my chores, run the trapline, and be home in time for supper. When I had twenty or thirty pelts stretched, dried, and ready for market, would pack them neatly, wrap them in heavy burlap, and sew the package with heavy twine. The last job was to sew the address of the fur company on the package. I can still see the big orange tag, “The American Fur Co., St. Louis, Missouri.” Then came the long period of waiting, usually ten days or two weeks. What a thrill it was to open the envelope and find a check for thirty or forty dollars made out to Howard Stallings. I became sort of a celebrity of the i trapping fraternity when, at the age of 14, caught two beautiful, sleek black mink. The mink, like the beaver, had been trapped almost to pene by previous generations. In the 19) rime mink would bring about oheensor twenty dollars. Ih. the fall of 1921, I went on my first major hunting expedition. I had spent the spring and early summer months in bed with Rheumatic Fever but by October, the doctor gave me a clean bill of health, and told my father that a hunting trip would not hurt me. We loaded a farm wagon with provisions—including a cook stove, bed rolls, hay and grain for the horses, guns, fishing rods, and plenty of good food. re were five people in our party: Milt Graham, a local boy who worked for my father; Pete Hansen, an old trapper and hunter who worked occasionally for my father, and who went along to do the cooking; my father; my brother; and myself. Milt was the driver. The three men rode in the wagon and Jim and | rode our horses. We camped in the Shupe Canyon Meadows, and while the tent was being pitched and the camp set in order, I went fishing. Using a red ant and a gray hackle, I had a mess of fish before I was called to suppe The next day we rode the horses to the high country and hunted blue grouse. I hada single shot .410 shotgun but even so, I succeeded in bagging several birds. We returned to camp that evening to find that Pete had supper ready for us. He had spent the day hunting and fishing along the stream and served us a trout and chicken dinner with brown gravy and biscuits. How good it was! We spent a glorious week in this camp hunting, fishing, |or just loafing. I hated to leave it and go back to the drudgery of farm and school life. People do not believe me when I tell them about the hunting we enjoyed when I was a kid. Prairie chicken or pin tailed grouse liked the lower elevations of the valley. They nested in the alfalfa fields and pastures. There were thousands of these birds in Ogden Valley and now they are almost extinct. Sage hens liked the sage brush and the lower elevations of the mountains. I have seen them in flocks of hundreds in the fall or early spring. They were especially thick around our wheat field on the west mountains. It was a poor hunter who Heed not fill a gunnysack with birds in a short ti The blue grouse lived in fhe fiehae elevations in pine and aspen forests. We wou see hundreds of them in a days hunt. They were called fool hens because they would fly Rei 4 Please note: The following is Chapter Seven ofa series of accounts by Howard Stallings of his life growing up in Ogden Valley. Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Grades from Eden School 1939-40 Back row from left to right: Haynes Fuller, Donald Guthrie, Mack Fuller, Eugene Wilson. Front row: Beulah Lindsay, Vera Chambers, LuJean Fuller, Teacher - Howard Stallings, Ned Clark, Sylvester Lindsay, Renee Burnett. Picture courtesy of Ned Clark of Layton. 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