It's a few miles trek up the banks of the Yukon River to a camp called "Sheppard's Camp". The water is low, making travel easy. It leaves behind level ground covered in nature's gravel. The camp gets it's name from the family who owns the land. Much of the landmarks in this area are not artistically titled, but rather a literal interpretation of what it is. Sheppard's Camp, is the Sheppard's families fishing camp, where they spend their summer fishing days. It's in a wonderful area, famously known for the beaver family (which I have playfully named the "Sheppard's Beaver Family") that resides there. Beside the camp runs a deep stream where the dam and wooden stick home of the Sheppard Beaver Family sits. They have accumulated quite the collection of willow this year- enough to hold them through the winter. It's a reassuring thought to know they will survive. Although my darling and I ventured to their home in the hopes of trapping one, we do want the rest to live. It's our first trap of the season. If the creature does give it's life, it will feed us meat and clothe me with a winter hat I dearly need. The trap itself is quick and lies beneath the surface of the water. The furry will pass almost immidiately. It's disheartening, even to me. For I so deeply admire their hardworking auras. The real reason we go, I believe, is not with the intent of the trap itself, but rather the pure joy of the scent of fresh timber breeze and sound of slow flowing water.
