Trapping With the Better Half

It was my wife Cheryl’s first season joining me on a water trap-line, her first season as a trapper.

- Jim McCarrick

After receiving a beaver complaint and calling on the landowner, we agreed that we would trap the beaver at no charge if he allowed us to stretch a muskrat and mink line on the trout stream that ran through several hundred acres of his property. We loaded up a plastic sled full of gear packs and began the drag in more than a foot of snow, making our way to the stream.

The air was cold, but the stream was wide open and at normal levels, perfect to get a line in. We talked about the best direction to head. Without thinking, I shouldered a pack and stepped into the waist deep water wearing my chest waders. Then I heard a loud shriek behind me and turned to see Cheryl standing in the water. She was wearing hip boots. What was waist deep on me was almost chest deep on her. In her eagerness to participate, she tried to laugh it off while emptying her boots and suggested we keep moving. She felt fine,

she said. But I knew better. I told her to leave all her gear in the sled, immediately get to the Jeep, get her boots off and get the Jeep’s heater blowing hot.

I watched her walk across the long field, waited to see exhaust coming out of the Jeep’s tail pipe and an “all ok” wave before I felt comfortable enough to get a few sets in, so we’d have something to check the following day returning to finish the line.

Cheryl apologized all the way home, saying she’d “ruined the day.” I responded with my own apologies. It was on me to make sure she understood the limitations of her hip boots, to ensure her safety, point out where she should enter the water. Anyone who has fished a clear water trout stream knows how deceiving depth can be. I’d been doing this most of my life, this was her first year trapping. I should have been more observant and aware.