The Trapper & The Brave Poem by David Welch

It was back in nineteen-nineteen
when Timlin Rivers checked his traps,
by one he found just a weasel skin,
did not know what to make of that.

Why would bother to raid a trap
but leave the pricey skin behind?
Who'd take a weasel for the meat
and then leave behind the hide?

He moved down the trapline a bit,
saw the situation repeat!
His trap had snagged a wolverine,
the pelt was still there but no meat!

Now Timlin had seen many things
since crossing the pond in ninety-eight,
but never a man raiding the traps
to keep the white hunger away.

So the next day he hid his dogs
and approached a lynx trap on foot,
he could smell a small fire burning,
the thief must've stopped to cook!

He peered past the snow-covered boughs,
saw an Indian-boy in his teens,
in the boy's hands was the dead lynx,
the cat he was carefully skinning.

Timlin stepped out, rifle in hand,
the boy jumped up with a shout,
Timlin said, "Now calm down their son,
just tell me what this all is about? "

The book looked on with terrified eyes,
said, "I only wanted to eat.
I left the pelts behind for you,
I swear to you, I ain't no thief! "

Timlin looked warily at the kid,
said, "Maybe you want to explain? "
The boy nodded, "I come from the east,
'Flying Bill' is my given name.

"See two weeks ago my father died,
and my step-mother kicked me out,
I have no other family left,
so I wandered to the nearest town.

"I went to every shop I could
Seeking someone who would employ,
but the teotenny had no use
for an orphaned Indian boy.

"So I came out into these woods,
hoping I could so some hunting,
but there was no big game for miles,
desperate, I had to do something! I"

Timlin nodded, said, "Usually boy
I shoot a man who's robbing my traps.
But I don't think I'll shoot down a man
who's pushed so far he will eat cat.

"If you were so very hungry
you should have come to me and asked,
got enough caches in this cold ground
for three whole full-grown men to last!

"You answered square, and saved my pelts,
there's clearly good in you my friend.
Jump on my sled, we'll get real food,
I'll decide what to do with you then."

It was two hours to the cabin
as the silver-grey huskies run,
inside the stove was fast stoked up
to cook moose liver and onions.

Bill chowed down like a starving wolf,
he swallowed down three whole helpings,
TImlin just watched, enrapt in thought,
what ever was to be done with him?

He shrugged and said, "If you've no home
I guess you could stay for a while.
But you will have to learn the traps,
and that means many cold miles."

Bill answered back, between fast bites,
"I'll work hard if it means I don't starve! "
Timlin answered, "I guess we'll see,
when you're done feed the dogs in the yard."

Bill quickly learned the trapper's trade,
to Timlin's pleasant surprise,
picked it up quick, quick enough that
they even could work on a new line.

Come spring Timlin built a new room
on the back of the small cabin,
the next winter, with new trap lines,
they doubled the coin they brought in.

This went on for many years,
Bill occasionally going to town,
he'd have some fun with girls and booze,
but soon enough was back on the ground.

Until in the early thirties
the old trapper acquired a chill,
his hair was now as white as snow,
he could no longer fight off the ills.

Bill buried him on a hillside
amidst the vast, endless taiga,
Timlin had left him all his land,
the cabin was now his by law.

Now Timlin was the loner type,
but that was not always Bill's view,
so he took a working girl for wife,
and she gave him cute daughters, two.

He kept working for winter pelts
until one day in fifty-three,
found a cheechako lost in the woods
and grandson, that fool was me!

I'd gone up to the last frontier
seeking adventure I couldn't get,
instead all I ended up doing
was running up big gambling debts.

The debt got me chased out of town,
was soon lost in endless fir trees,
had Bill not found me fumbling about
I would've been put on deep-freeze.

Maybe he saw himself in me,
honestly, I don't really know,
but he wasn't the type to let me die,
so to this cabin we did go.

It was a bit larger than before,
he'd built it into a proper house,
little did I know, going in
that I never really would get out.

You see that day Bill didn't just
happen to save my young life,
though neither of us knew it yet
he introduced me to my wife!

His youngest daughter Maryanne
captured my soul at the first glance,
one of those girls who shakes your cage
and replaces all other plans.

So I stayed with Bill, and learned the traps,
helped him as he'd helped Timlin before,
I grew closer to your grandmother
who even Bill could see I adored.

And when she agreed to marry me
I admit I was truly surprised,
to say yes to a poor, young fool…
it was the break of a lifetime.

Bill passed on back in sixty-nine,
and I buried him on that same hill,
next to his friend Timlin Rivers,
beneath northern lights and the night's chill.

And I know it won't be all that long
until I too will be joining them,
the doc said two months, three at most
'till the cancer brings me to my end.

I wanted you to hear all this
so you can better understand
how it is you came to be ‘Bill, '
and why you father's named 'Timlin.'

I know your wife's expecting now
a child I won't live to see,
but some day you must tell them this,
ought to know the family history.

Know how we carved out a living,
why we're settled out all this way,
all because that gruff, old trapper
took in a poor and starving brave.