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By Root 224 0

a fistful of butter. The hole was small, and when he closed his paw, he couldn't get it back out. All he had to do was open it, drop the butter, and he would be free, but do you think he would? No, sir. He would carry that churn lid all over the house, squalling and growling. Why, it took everyone in the house to free him. I'd have to wrap him up in a gunny sack or an old coat and pry his claws loose from the butter. Seeing this time after time is what gave me the idea for this trap. Once he reaches in and gets hold of that tin, he's caught, because he will never open his paw."

With my confidence restored, it all sounded pretty good to me and I was anxious to try out this wonderful plan. I thanked him and, taking the brace and nails, I left the store.

By the time I reached home it was too late in the day to start making my traps. That night I talked the idea over with Papa.

"I've heard of coons being caught that way," he said, "but I never paid much attention to it. Your grandfather should know, though, for he was quite a coon hunter when he was a boy."

"From what he told me," I said, "it never fails."

Papa asked if I wanted him to help make my traps.

"No," I said, "I think I can do it myself."

I didn't sleep too well that night. I bored holes, drove nails, and fought coons practically all night.

Early the next morning I went to the trash pile. As I stirred around in the rusty old cans, I thought of another time I had searched for a can. Finally I found the one I wanted. It was bright and shiny.

Everything was going along just fine until Mama caught me cutting out the circles of tin with her scissors. I always swore she could find the biggest switches of any woman in the Ozarks. That time she overdid it. I was almost to the river before the stinging stopped.

It wasn't hard to find places for my traps. All along the river large sycamore logs lay partly submerged in the clear blue water. On one where I could see the muddy little tracks of the ringtails, I bored a hole, dropped in a piece of tin, and drove my nails.

On down the river I went, making my traps. I stopped when I ran out of nails. Altogether I had fourteen traps.

That night Papa asked me how I was making out.

"Oh, all right," I said. "I've got fourteen of them made."

He laughed and said, "Well, you can't ever tell. You may catch one."

The next morning I was up with the chickens. I took my pups with me as I just knew I'd have a big ringtail trapped and I wanted them to see it. I was a disappointed boy when I peeked out of a canebrake at my last trap and didn't see a coo*n. All the way home I tried to figure out what I had done wrong.

I went to Papa. He put his thinking cap on and thought the situation over. "Maybe you left too much scent around when you made those traps," he said. "If you did, it'll take a while for it to go away. Now I wouldn't get too impatient. I'm pretty sure you'll catch one sooner or later."

Papa's words perked me up just like air does a deflated inner tube. He was right. I had simply left too much scent around my traps. All I had to do was wait until it disappeared and I'd have my coon hide.

Morning after morning it was the same old disappointment; no coon. When a week had gone by and still no results from my traps, I gave up. What little patience I had was completely gone. I was firmly convinced that coons didn't walk on sycamore logs any more, and bright shiny objects had about as much effect on them as a coon hound would.

One morning I didn't get up to run my trap line. I stayed in bed. What was the use? It was just a waste of time.

When the family sat down to breakfast, I heard my oldest sister say, "Mama, isn't Billy going to get up for breakfast?"

"Why, is he in his room?" Mama asked. "I didn't know. I thought he was down looking at his traps."

I heard Papa say, "I'll go wake him up."

He came to the door and said, "You'd better get up, Billy. Breakfast is ready."

"I don't want any breakfast," I said. "I'm not hungry."

Papa took one look at me and saw I had a bad case of the ringtail blues. He came over and sat