Hey! What about me? Don't I count for something?

I went down to the river after reading Jim Williams' great piece on the poor dog that was squashed in the Conibear trap and met a wise old otter. We proceeded to have a great chin-wag, and here's the way our conversation went:

"Hey, all you good people in Sisters Country, I'm the intended victim of those ugly devices set out for me and my kind. All I can say about those poor dogs is, 'Better them than me!'

"My granddad and cousins fell prey to traps that drowned 'em, or almost chopped off a leg, and now me and my wife and kids got to put up with, that...what's it called... Conibear trap? I sure hope I can figure out a way to keep from falling into them awful things; I don't wanna end up like them stupid dogs.

"But maybe they got it comin', after pesterin' my friends in the woods - like gray squirrels, golden mantled ground squirrels and those tiny, helpless chipmunks.

"But, you know... I got a big problem with all this trapping stuff. I'm a little worried about the politics. On one hand the State of Oregon has me down as a 'protected species.' 'Protected' means I'm special, don't it? But on the other hand the same wildlife biologists also have a 'season' on me!

"From November 15 through March 15, throughout the entire state of Oregon - except Grant County and all the areas closed to beaver trapping - anyone who has completed the so-called 'trapper's education course' can set out those infernal killing traps, just about anywhere they want to. Those wildlife biologists don't give a hoot for me and my relatives. Shucks, we ain't got a chance!

"Do you know my cousins that live in the oceans along the shoreline and eat crabs and such? They really are 'protected,' no 'season' on those otters! I should be so lucky...

"The state biologists have my name listed under 'Small game hunting and trapping regulations.' See what I mean about the 'protected species' stuff? While my cousins on the coast get off scot free, I'm considered 'game.' Not good at all, especially when you consider what Jim Tabor and Howard Wight found out about my ancestors back in the early '70s.

"Those two guys spent a lot of time studying my grandpa's generation and came up with the conclusion that the reported harvest ('Harvest,' oh, boy, that term gives me the willies) of my relatives by fur trappers in Oregon declined 39 percent from 1966 to 1970. I wonder if that was from over-trapping? Whatever, it explains why my grandpa said he couldn't find uncle Jack and Aunt Mary, or their kids that summer. It also makes me wonder if we're still 'declining' and why wildlife biologist still allow trappers to kill us. Shucks! I wonder if anyone knows how many of us there are left...

"That great story Jim Williams wrote in The Nugget last week about the poor unfortunate dog that got into one of them awful Conibear traps mentioned that some wildlife biologists think trapping predators will help save some critter they think is more important.

"That's a bunch of hooey. Trapping almost sent beaver into extinction when Oregon was brand-new. And, there is no such thing as 'predator control;' that nonsense was justification for setting up a bunch of federal rat-chokers way back in the '50s that were in a branch of U.S. Fish and Wildlife known as Predator and Rodent Control (PARC), a misnomer if there ever was one. They even thought bald eagles were a 'nuisance' and killed them too!

"Shucks, I'm a predator and some people think I threaten the introduction of those deeee-licious salmon in Whychus Creek and the Metolius. Sure I like to eat 'em, but you know what? I like them little crab-like critters and insects on the bottom of the creek and rivers a lot more. They're so crunchy and good-eatin;' I can catch 'em so much easier, and gain more weight from that diet. Those little salmon are like ice cream, and most people know that eatin' ice cream for breakfast really isn't good for ya.

"When it's all said and done, you can bet your bottom dollar I'm going to be a lot more careful hauling out on the banks of the Metolius now that I know them biologists have dropped me from protection, and fur trappers are out to get me. I like to think my role in the ecosystem is worth a lot more than the couple of bucks the state gets for allowing people to kill me, and some lady in New York wearing my pelt to a lollapalooza party. But, them dogs, they're on their own..."