My darling is a trapper and although I've stated it many a times today will be one of the first days I say it with the meaning that at this exact moment he is trapping. I, myself, am not a trapper- just a mere lover of trapping. Which may sound odd. Why would someone be a lover of trapping and not trap? Well, you see, I'm not much fond of the killing part. It's the tracking part I enjoy. It's the curiousity that forces your mind to overcome mother nature's abilities. It's the anticipation of what you caught and where and how. It's learning how to outsmart one of the earth's blessfully smart creatures. Whether a lynx, a marten, a beaver, or an otter, somehow I can't help but find the ways that my darling traps utterly fascinating. And although I adore fur, I avoid the death part of the ordeal. It's not the reason I go. I go to stalk prey, to learn about nature through the simple little clues she leaves behind. It's not so much the idea of trapping an animal that makes trapping so enjoyable- but rather the romance of knowledge that comes forth when keeping so much of your attention on one single being.
