During the winter of ’83-’84 I was a trapper in Northern Manitoba. Geo physical location was approximately 57 degrees north latitude by 99 degrees longitude. I trapped mostly beaver, mink, muskrat, lynx and laid nets under the ice for fish. I’d also shoot moose and caribou if I happened to see them.
My transportation was a seven team dog sled. The nearest community was South Indian Lake, a two day ride from camp.
I awoke to a cold crisp morning, the sun just starting to break a glow in the eastern sky. I made a warm “gravy train” for the dogs and breakfast for myself before heading out for the daily rounds.
The day was going extremely well with every trap yielding an animal and with lots of fish in the nets. A very rare day indeed. On the horizon I could see dark clouds rolling in and knew a storm was coming but I kept steady at it.
Late in the afternoon it was snowing quite heavily. It was time to call it a day. About two hours away from the cabin, heading home, I noticed the dogs ears were up and they weren’t acting in their usual manner. I looked around but couldn’t see anything, however I kept a good vigilance because I knew something was about to occur.
It was getting quite dark now and the dogs were working harder pulling the sled in the deepening snow. Another look back and I could see why the dogs were edgy. I saw five black spots behind us. A wolf pack. These are fearless and skilled hunters and I wasn’t about to let my dogs nor myself become their dinner.
The dogs were capable of finding their way home, so I kept a watchful eye on our fearful company to make sure they didn’t split up and start surrounding us. After a half hour or so of always looking back over my shoulder, the time had come to take action. I braked the sled, turned it sideways and brought the dogs in closer.
The first shot was on my right to the outermost wolf. The crack of the rifle and the final yelp of the first downed wolf stunned the pack for an instant before they switched directions. That was just enough time to action the bolt on the rifle and aim for the outermost wolf on the left. Another loud crack and it also dropped. I wasn’t going to stand around and look, I quickly levered the bolt action and fired at the closest wolf to me. The remaining two wolves took flight and were lost in the storm.
I’ll pick up the bodies tomorrow and skin them later. Time to line up the team and head home.
Patrick Crawford http://crawford.site90.com
Great story by the bravest man I know!