On a recent Saturday I attended a small trapper gathering and I must say I always walk away from these events having learned a great deal.

Most years the big take-away is learning about the habits and activities of various furbearers and man’s attempt to catch them. Honestly, you can tip your hat to the bowhunter who ends their season with a nice new mount for the wall, but I will always have more respect for the trapper who knows the ins and outs of his passion so much that he can fill a pickup load of beaver … or coyote … or some other crafty, wary species.

Indeed, in the outdoors world for my money the accomplished trapper is the real rockstar deserving the utmost respect. This person has to know his sport so well that he can predict that a critter will step on a few square inches of a trap pan in order to achieve success. Certainly I’m not discrediting the hunter in any way. Instead, if you’ve never been closely aligned with someone who traps to learn what it takes … you’re missing a truly wonderful outdoors experience, in my opinion.

Now, some might say trappers do it for the money. To that I would say GET REAL! The money? Oh, sure there’s the money element involved with preparing and selling furs, but very few trappers I know make much more money then they end up spending on supplies, on gas to run their line … not to mention the hard work involved with catching and putting up fur in preparation for auction.

I’ve been a recreational trapper since the age of 15 so I know what it takes. Commitment. Ambition. Discipline. Positive attitude. Those are just a few of the many qualities that go into a successful trapper. And while money can help motivate a person to get out of bed each morning to check the lines … it simply does not very often make a living for many people.

As I watched Leon Windschitl from the Minnesota Trappers Association give his demonstration showing the finer points of fur handling, it suddenly occurred to me how much work is involved with trapping. First off, there’s the work phase where you need to outsmart the animal. Specialized tools, techniques and tactics might work in some areas, but then not in others. There’s no guarantee for success in trapping, just like there isn’t in hunting or fishing.

Now, some trappers might stop right there and simply sell the animal in the carcass to the fur house. I’ll admit, this is what I often do because my process for skinning and preparing is not a streamlined operation. Others, however, realize the work is only beginning. Skinning the critter (depending on your skill level) might take five to ten minutes or more. Then comes the fleshing and stretching aspect … not to mention the combing and cleaning that is often necessary to make the fur look its best. Even the stretching and the drying demands time and lots of attention.

All in all that $30 raccoon is hardly easy or quick money for the trapper’s pocket. As a trapper, to do things the correct way takes lots of time, patience and effort often when weather conditions are less than ideal.

Especially this year. Preliminary fur markets are looking somewhat depressed so trappers will likely have less competition on their lines. That also means less money in the pocket when the seasons end. Indeed, this year when you see trappers out tending their traps realize how this year more than others the folks setting steel in the river ways and fence lines are doing it for a true love of the sport … and not for a means to get rich in the pocketbook.

Yes, I have a lot of respect for trappers and the sport of trapping. Always have and always will.

What is the appeal of the reality TV show Mountain Men, and others in the same genre? If harvesters of nature’s resources, and not least the fur trade, can answer this question, they can apply the lesson learned to their own public relations, and in so doing win over millions of new supporters.

First, some clarification. Yes, Mountain Men is reality TV, but not of the kind that imprisons a bunch of misfits on an island to tear one another’s throats out, with instant celebrity status for the winner. Mountain Men is the other kind.

Mountain Men is about the daily lives of men who have opted to live cheek to jowl with nature, no matter what she may throw at them.

Or in the words of the History Channel, which airs the show: “Using ancient skills and innate ingenuity, these men fend off nature’s ceaseless onslaught, carving out the lives they’ve chosen from a harsh and unforgiving landscape.”

The audience relates at a visceral level to the painful, joyous or scary experiences of these shaggy-bearded, unkempt men with questionable hygiene and (apparently) masochistic tendencies.

Paradoxically though, many in the audience, like me, are city dwellers whose lifestyle is the antithesis of a mountain man’s. Why are we drawn by a lifestyle we go to such pains to avoid?

We have “guys” to change our oil, do our dry cleaning, mow our lawns and deliver our pizzas. We even boast about them as if somehow we deserve credit for their performance. “My mechanic is the best!”

And for sure, not one of us has ever made our own bullets, then shot a squirrel with a firearm that belongs in a museum, then cooked it and chewed on a piece of meat the size of a pinky and declared it good eatin’.

The fact is, though, that millions of us fantasize about doing just that!

Two Poles and a Jar of Worms

If you don’t know where I’m coming from, consider the ubiquitous angler. If you’re not an angler yourself, it’s almost certain your neighbor is.

Angling is one of the most popular pastimes for men (yes, it’s a manly thing) whose working lives are spent pushing papers around a desk, and there’s a good reason why.

It’s a call of nature we cannot resist, an instinctive drive to provide for our families by using our wits. A trip to the supermarket just doesn’t cut it.

And that is why, week in, week out, rain or shine, we populate river banks, catching little or nothing, staring at the water and dreaming. Dreaming how grand life would be if someone would actually pay us to do this.

And when our sons are old enough, they join us willingly (or so we like to believe) to bond over two poles and a jar of worms. If the fates are kind and we bag a couple of minnows, we char them black over a fire and lie to each other about how they taste better than anything Mum prepares with all her fancy recipes. Good times!

For other men, nature’s call is to hunt or trap.

Not Just Mountain Men

So how can the fur trade learn from shows like Mountain Men, and apply what it learns in its public relations?

We start by recognizing how popular this genre is, of folk living from nature, by their wits.

To name just a few shows with much the same formula as Mountain Men, we have: Swamp People (same hairy humans as Mountain Men, but hunting alligators); Outback Hunters (much like Swamp People but with Aussies hunting crocs); Lobster Wars; Lobstermen: Jeopardy at Sea; Wicked Tuna; Swords: Life on the Line, and so on.

Then there’s the granddaddy of them all, Deadliest Catch, the award-winning saga of crab fishermen trying hard not to drown or get minced in machinery. Now in its 10th season, Deadliest Catch has set record ratings in its class across both males and females, in all age brackets.

And we haven’t even touched on the survivalist genre featuring Bear Grylls (Man vs. Wild) et al. eating anything which once had, and sometimes still has, a pulse.

Don’t worry about the ratings. The mere fact that the cable TV powerhouses of History, Discovery and Nat Geo keep churning these shows out is proof enough of their appeal. Just this June, Animal Planet got in on the act with Beaver Brothers.

So Who Are They?

Next we try to identify who the audience are by understanding who they are not.

They are not drawn to shows like Mountain Men in the same way audiences are drawn to, for example, American Chopper or Counting Cars. The latter are unabashedly aimed at the millions of bikers and gearheads out there who lap them up because, well, they’re about them!

No, Mountain Men does not survive on an audience of mountain men, any more than Swamp People relies on swamp people. Even if all the mountain men, swamp people, crab fishermen, lobstermen and croc hunters in the world tuned in to an episode of Deadliest Catch, they’d hardly make a blip in the ratings.

So let’s say the bulk of the audience for this genre represents a cross-section of society, from diverse backgrounds, but with a few things in common that do not include risking their lives on a daily basis to catch dinner. And one of those things is that they support the harvesting of animals for human benefit.

Like most people, they’re probably not vocal in their support of this, and if asked what they think of animal rights activists, will probably reply, “a bunch of wackos”.

But they are nonetheless important allies. They are the people who, when push comes to shove, ensure that the animal rights movement does not have its way at every turn. They vote, they sign ballots, they pay membership dues to hunting and fishing associations that represent their interests, and they pay license fees that fund wildlife management and conservation efforts.

So are we catering to them, nurturing them to become vocal advocates not just of a lifestyle, but more importantly of the larger picture of man’s place in nature? Not much. Are they equipped with the knowledge to become such advocates? Definitely.

How Things Work

To cater to an audience, you have to know what interests it and what puts it to sleep, and most fur trade PR is not going to keep a mountain man wannabe on the edge of his seat.

The fur trade aims its PR primarily at two audiences: fashionistas, and people who are still undecided on whether they favor using animals for human benefit. This second audience, of course, includes a never-ending supply of youngsters who’ve never heard the arguments before.

High fashion is the biggest life force driving the fur trade, with trickle-down effects on everything from high street retail to the prices producers get for their pelts. However, for most people, and certainly our mountain man wannabe, the latest offerings on the catwalks of Paris and Milan are weird and irrelevant.

The fur trade’s other obsession for the last 45 years has been debating animal welfare vs. rights, and the role of sustainable use as a conservation tool. (That’s how long it’s been since the International Fund for Animal Welfare began campaigning to end the Canadian seal hunt.) Everything worth saying has probably already been said, but the messages need to be reinforced again and again because we are trying to influence people’s fundamental views about man’s place in nature.

However, our mountain man wannabe is decidedly not our target audience. He is no more interested in debating the rights of squirrels than he is in how they look, sheared and dyed pink, around the neck of a supermodel.

What he does want is information that’s educational, useful, and makes him go, “Wow! I never knew that!” He may or may not have a hankering to eat squirrel stew, but he is interested in the process, in how to get the squirrel in the pot in the first place. Which means he might also be interested in knowing:

• Why grey wolf and wolverine fur make the best hood ruffs and jacket linings in the Arctic;

• That a deer, raccoon or beaver conveniently has just enough of the oil called lecithin in its brain to tan its own hide; and

• That mink carcasses make great crab bait, and it’s not because crabs love them so. (Squid are better.) It’s because seals and sea lions can’t stand the smell!

All these and more interesting questions are now addressed in great detail on the web by hunters, trappers, tanners and crab fishermen, and reality TV is cashing in on this treasure trove of amazing information. How about we do the same?

How about we complement our efforts targeting traditional audiences, and spend a little more time talking to people who could be powerful allies if only we started speaking their language?

Let’s connect with all the mountain men out there, not just the ones walking the walk, but also the millions of people tuned in to cable TV, dreaming of making their own squirrel stew some day.

I’ll start the ball rolling. In my next post, learn why one of the most desired and expensive of North American furs in the mid-20th century is now just roadkill.

Wildlife experts say there are 20 times more raccoons sharing human habitation space in North America than 70 years ago. In Toronto, where I live, this urban pest reportedly numbers up to 150 per square kilometre, mostly in residential neighbourhoods, not parks and ravines.

I haven’t counted for myself, but these numbers seem credible. As a resident of the “raccoon capital of the world”, I live in close quarters with these pesky masked bandits.

I have been cleaning up the aftermath of garbage bin raids since childhood. On more than one occasion I’ve had to shoo a well-fed raccoon away from the pet dish and out of my house! Battling and fixing their destruction of home and garden has cost me more time and money than I care to remember. And I learned long ago that raccoons cannot be toilet trained, so I have grown accustomed to scooping the poop left on my deck most summer mornings.

Toronto's raccoon policy, like that of the state of Ontario, is live-and-let-live. The city suggests that homeowners discourage nocturnal visits by keeping trash locked up and “raccoon proofing” fruit and vegetable gardens, which I do. But when I discovered last spring that my eaves were being used for a maternity den, it was time to seek professional advice – so I tracked down a licenced trapper.

Trappers Understand Urban Pests

Of course, there is no shortage of “pest control” companies in the raccoon capital of the world. Their services invariably involve setting cage traps to capture, move and release problem animals. Unlike licenced trappers, however, people working for these companies do not require training in the use of humane-certified traps. Yes, even cage traps can be cruel when misused.

Over the years, I have heard some real horror stories about these services. One particularly gruesome tale involved bear spray (pepper spray to most of us) that nearly blinded the unfortunate raccoon.

I am not saying that all these companies follow bad practices, but I prefer to get my advice from the best experts available. So that’s where I went.

All I wanted was the name of a reputable nuisance-wildlife control company. What the trapper provided instead was a relatively easy solution that involved no traps at all. No raccoons were stressed in the process – although my acrophobic husband was required to climb a ladder several times.

The consultation began with a lesson in “Raccoon Behaviour 101”. The trapper explained that a mother raccoon will usually have 2-3 den sites. Persuading unwanted tenants to leave is much easier when they have somewhere else to go!

He also explained that, once the cubs are a few weeks old, the whole family will leave their den as a group to get water every day. So, following the trapper’s instructions, we covered the entry hole under our roof with a piece of loose cardboard. When the cardboard was moved, we’d know they had all left to get a drink. Then – using screws, not nails that raccoons can pry out – we boarded up the hole before they returned. It worked like a charm. My unwanted house guests simply moved (hopefully not to someone else’s house) and my problem was solved.

Anti-trapping activists often complain that trappers are only interested in using lethal methods to control urban wildlife. My own experience shows that nothing could be further from the truth.

FROM OUR WEBSITE: FUR PRODUCTION: TRAPPING