"The earliest fur traders to come to Indiana were the French 'courier
des bois,' traveling buyers, who were trading with the Indians in northern
Indiana by 1660 or 1670. In 1702 Indiana's first trading post was established
at Vincennes. This post was abandoned in 1705 because of the activities
of hostile Indians. From 1715 to 1732 French military forts to protect
the fur trading business were built at the present sites of Fort Wayne,
Lafayette, and Vincennes." --Indiana Department of Natural Resources
"What a difference a day makes," goes the old saw.
If we believe that--and who doesn't --we should not be surprised at
the present state of the fur industry in this country--and Indiana --roughly
350 years after its meager and dangerous beginning hereabouts.
So how goes the fur industry--more precisely the trapping of fur-bearing
animals in Hoosierland today? And fur buying?
Well, Bruce Plowman, the wildlife biologist who heads up our Division
of Fish and Wildlife (DFW) management programs for fur-bearing animals,
believes fur prices will be a little better this year than they were in
the 2000-2001 seasons. Still, Plowman indicates that the fur industry and
trapping is only a semblance of what it was a mere 15 years ago.
For example, Plowman says DFW records indicate that in the mid-1980s
some 157 individuals held licenses to buy fur, an activity that is heavily
restricted. In recent years the number of licensed fur buyers has been
has been fairly constant at about 55.
Plowman, who headquarters at Mitchell, came on the scene last
fall after the death of Larry Lehman, who headed fur-bearer studies for
the DFW for many years. He is highly qualified, holding a MS degree in
biology from Mississippi State University. He has much experience with
Plowman points out that the muskrat was the Hoosier State's most important
fur bearer, posting total pelt figures of well over 200,000 in the glory
years of the early to late 1950s. This, of course, was before the upsurge
of raccoon populations in the 1970s and the escalated prices for Mr. Ringtail
which would go well over $20 before the Russian economy failed. Some prime
and perfect 'coon pelts brought as much as $50 in their heydays
With average pelt prices running at a little over $1, total prices paid
for the rats was a little over $200,000 which was not hay in those days.
Plowman says rats, as they are affectionately known to trappers, still
were the No. 2 Hoosier fur bearer in the 2000 - 2001 seasons with a total
of 27,563 at an average price of $2.90.
Top fur animal in those years was the raccoon with 79,314 pelts that
Other 2000 - 2001 fur species were coyote, 1,713 animals at $7.12 each;
red fox, 1,335 at $12.49 each; mink, 1,259 skins at $8.23 each; opossum,
876 hides at $1.27 each; gray fox, 240 pelts at $7.56 each, and skunk,
92 pelts at $1.84 each.
In 2000 the DFW sold 2,420 trapping licenses. Records are sparse on
the number of trappers there were in Indiana during the heydays of the
fur industry because until about 10 years ago the license to hunt and fish
also covered trapping. But the number of trappers today is a far cry from
the glory years when many farm and rural schoolboys arose long before the
dawn of cold winter days to "run" (check) their traps before going to school.
Gone are the days when a Saturday wintertime fixture on courthouse squares
throughout the state was a grizzled old fur buyer who knew raw fur inside
out, upside down and backwards.
Gone are the days when a teenage kid from Crothersville would join Jack
Cain, his older mentor, to track a mink all day in the Muscatatuck River
bottomlands before bagging it late in the afternoon.
They would leave the town with six inches of fresh, dry, powdery snow
on the ground, the street lights still burning. When they returned to the
town the street lights would be burning again and the temperature would
never have gotten as high as zero that day.
But they would have a huge possum and a raccoon in addition to the mink.
That night they would sell their unskinned animals for $22.22, the boy's
half being more than his father had earned that week.
Gone are the days when the red-bearded, fat, old fur buyer (nearly blind,
but still able to detect flaws in pelts with his acute sense of touch)
would foil the scheme of a couple of rowdies to sell him a mink pelt whose
tail had been clumsily lopped off in the skinning process and sewed back
on and covered with beeswax to disguise the flaw.
And gone . . . far gone . . . is the winter my father, who gave
me my first mink-trapping lesson at the age of seven (some 70 years ago),
trapped a mink in the early part of December to thwart the Grinch's plan
to steal Christmas.
Still, we can hope that the small army of Hoosier trappers will close
their ears and eyes to the slurs of the animal rightists and keep this
high quality form of outdoor recreation alive for centuries to come.