quote:

Originally posted by butchloc:
at the time zim money was worth about 8 to US 1. trail cameras didn't exist neither did trail timers. Baits were collected in the same way, hung in the same way and checked every day in the same way.
If a bait was hit only the tracks were evidence. Big tracks were a male and small one were female. Well at least sometimes. If a bait was hit it would be refreshed and let go to see if it was hit again and again, until it was felt the cat had confidence.
A blind would be built from trees, sticks and brush, no pop ups were around. The cat might come in during the night, at sundown, at sunrise, or even daylight. No gadgets were there to tell you just when. the nights sit would start in the mid afternoon. The birds would call, the grouse scratch around the blind, the sun would slowly go down and the chill of the night air seep in.
As the moon rose higher in the sky things becaue more visible and the senses would become alert. Small sounds beccame large, whispers of the wind would bring visions of unknowns. The sounds of something at the bait broought new alertness, but turned out to be a honey badger and his friend. Prhaps a genet or civet at would cross the shooting lane. As the night wore on eyelids got heavy. A poke in the ribs had the snoring cease. then the light started to appear in the sky. soon to be replaced by a red sun. Nothing had come to the bait, the cat had earned another of his 9 lives. Bones creaked and cracked as the body moved up from the chair and out the back of the bllind, the sounds of the truck rumbled through the mornings still. riding back to camp in the high seat made the chill of the mornings breese cold, but did keep the eyelids open.
Perhaps the next night he would come, or the next or the next. Perhaps it will take another hunt, but that would be another story.
I must consider myself priviledged to have many of these days and nights in my memory. Do you?