Sometime before first light the snow had slacked off, leaving fluffy fresh powder, perfect stuff for new tracks to stand out. So I hustled down the snare line eagerly checking for any hits.
This late-season line ran through several hundred acres of second-growth balsam fir and assorted white birch — perfect snare country. New bunny sign crisscrossed the snowshoe beat until a big fox track hit the smooth walking. With snaring ending soon I wanted to pick up another bright red to round out the fur bag to an even number. Sure enough, the dog fox tracks trotted straight and true as I snowshoed around a turn into a thicket, confident he’d be hung up on the drag pole.
However, instead of a crackling bright red, an empty snare stared blankly at me. For whatever reason with only yards to go he’d casually braked, swung west and leaped off the snowshoe path. Why? With a few choice words I squatted on my bear paws and growled at the snow, the sky and foxes in general.
FAILURE FEELINGS
Next to leaky rubber boots or aggravating ATV carbs, few
