The Traps

THE TRAPS

Slowly I lifted the lid of the camp oven. The inviting smell of cooking made my gastric juices run wild but I knew the tucker was not yet cooked. “Slowly does it better,” I remembered. The aroma was of a baking rabbit, stuffed with onions, breadcrumbs and a little bacon. Potatoes and carrots were on top of a meal, which was as good a campfire meal as any camper would expect.

I watched quietly as the shadows lengthened across the paddock. Neither Fred nor I spoke at that time. We were both lost in our own reminisces about the last few days. We were both well worn out and thankfully tired. I felt the fresh wind pick up a little and a little dust whirled. The hot day surrendered to a cool night with its relief for land and man. Now was be the time the quiet animals feed, as the night ventured nearer, with its coolness and protection.

We waited for this time.

The first night we trapped six rabbits. This was disappointing but we expected it, after our noise in the daytime. We had ploughed through the undergrowth disturbing the natural surroundings as we went. We dug holes, buried traps and hammered in spikes. The rabbits dug further underground in fear. They wondered about the noisy plunderers and what dangers they might bring. Timid animals as always, they kept in their burrows that night. However, animal memory must be short for the next day they seemed to forget he intruders. Experience had taught me that they would come back soon.

We sat eating our food in the still of the Australian bush and listened to the music of the night, which was played by the calls of the cockatoos and the Mallee Ring-necks nearby. Soon, the sun set and the creatures seemed to have gone to bed. In the still shadows of the bushes, the night predators were on the hunt. Who knows exactly what the creatures of the night are doing?

One creature definitely knew and that was the fox. She had a den of cubs to supply with food and now used her cunning to catch her prey. If she attacked the farmer’s turkeys, she would kill them all in one bloody battle. The fox killed indiscriminately and more than it needed to eat, often leaving most of the dead animals. The turkeys were locked up tight and the kelpie was loose in the house paddock to guard the farm animals.

Tonight, there was a fox hunting in our area and we did not know. The thought of her killing our catch of rabbits had not even occurred to me. I wriggled more in my swag and knew I was not going to sleep yet. I rose on elbow “You awake Fred?” I whispered.

“Of course I am,” he replied. “What do you expect with you squirming all over the place?”

“Go on,” I mused.

“Doesn’t it make you wonder?” he mumbled. “Here we lie in peace and comfort while the world meanders around us doing we don’t know what. Look at that moon.”

I saw the moon as it hung in the sky like an all-seeing eye. I am sure it saw everything below in one swoop. It wondered what these two strange fellows were doing in the hush of their campfire.

I struggled out of my swag and sat patiently beside the fire.

“Let’s have a beer,” I suggested, impatiently and we both sat by the dying campfire drinking a cold can and enjoying our night.

While we sat and imagined our separate worlds, the vixen was moving towards our paddock. Perhaps she could smell yesterday’s catch of rabbits even though we had buried the waste. Furtively she moved along her track and she sniffed the air in anticipation. Hers was the urgency of hunger and the need to feed her cubs. Silently, she moved on, whisking quickly and quietly along the edges of the crop. Smelling the way, she continued on her quest and she felt confident of a catch that night.

A little further ahead was the warren the fox sought. It seemed to be waiting for her, patiently, as though it was going to present her with her wanted meal. Suddenly a rabbit moved and, too late, it realised its mistake as it stepped on the trap’s plate. The cold claws closed around the rabbit’s back leg and it was caught. Then it squealed loudly!

Of course, the fox heard the squeal. Ears suddenly shot upright and the fox knew from exactly where the sound came. Quickly she turned to face her prey but at the same time was careful of any enemies of her own.

By the campfire, the waiting men heard the urgency of the squeal and instinctively knew they must go. The rabbit was caught in their trap and the noise was going to attract attention. They did not move as quickly as the fox, but they were as single minded and knew their destination.

Snap! Another trap went off and cruel claws tightened around a scrawny leg. However, it wasn’t a rabbit’s leg. It was the leg of the fox hunting around the warren. She jumped quickly. She felt the pain tear along her body and she knew this hideous thing had caught her. Terror overcame pain, as she lunged again and again, and slowly the peg began to be pulled from its hole. The fox did not know this, but her continued pull seemed successful until she stumbled onto another plate and another trap clamped cruelly over a front leg.

Now the frightened animal was really trapped. The pain clouded her mind, the instinctive need for freedom made her wrench and wrench on both traps, and the sore legs became red and sodden with the blood of desperation. It was also the blood of final despair and the mother fox had no way of escape. The evening feast had escaped and now she faced the certainty of a cruel death. She struggled against the traps that tore at her legs. Her growl was threatening. She was ready to fight to save herself and her cubs. She still meant to escape.

This was the sight that greeted Fred and me as we came running along. We did not expect this! As well as a trapped rabbit, we had come upon this vicious catch in our traps. It frightened ua and we knew we had to be careful. Slowly we approached the trapped creature. I could smell it and the sense of danger it exuded. “Careful, Fred!” I yelled. “If she can get at you, she’ll claw you to pieces.”

“I know,” replied Fred, “but what do we do now?”

“It’s obvious we’re going to have to kill her before we can get our traps back,” I replied. “Hit her with a strong branch. Careful not to release the trap instead.”

That is what we did and I am not happy to say that she was dead about five minutes later. We looked down at her ravaged body still held by traps.

“I hated that,” grumbled Fred. I knew what he meant. For some reason I felt like a trespasser.

The cubs grew hungry. We caught no more rabbits.

The next day, Fred and I packed our gear and went home. We spoke no more about the fox but I think we decided about trapping trips for the future. What began as an exciting adventure changed into a shameful memory, which we would never forget.

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