Mattie Mitchell by Gary Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

otter slides, where the playful
animals slid down over the rocks into the sea. Favourite slides
were used by the same otter families for years. In such places the
otters created a muddy run from treeline to the ocean edge. The
muddy “rub” or “burry” was their giveaway to knowing trappers.
    Placed upon the rocks well above the surf line, and near
the place where Mitchell had fastened his net to the land, were
several lobster pots. Many of the local fishermen, instead of
freighting their pots up the long bays to home after the season’s
fishing, simply carried them ashore to a convenient site. It was on
this very coast where Mattie had seen his very first lobster trap
around the year 1870. At that time he wasn’t sure what he was
seeing. But by 1873, a small lobster canning factory was started
by a Nova Scotia man and the handmade wooden traps or pots
were a common sight. By 1888 the fishery had expanded until the
English had established more than two dozen such factories along
this coast, and Mattie knew where a lone Frenchman had one.
Mattie’s quick mind soon had figured a unique way of trapping
the otters. He would combine their love for chasing and eating
herring—with a lobster pot!
    It took him a while to raise a part of the submerged net and
take from it several dozen herring before letting it sink to the
bottom again. It was a delicate task while sitting in the stern of
a shallow, narrow canoe. There was a danger of capsizing it, but
after he had wrangled a portion of the net across the centre of the
craft, the canoe was held steady with the net’s weight. He simply
shook the net until all the herring he wanted fell aboard.
    He gingerly manoeuvred the glistening net back over the bow
of the canoe and, paddling to shore, stepped out. Climbing the
sloping, sea-smoothed cliff, he knelt beside the neatly stacked
lobster pots and considered his plan. Several pots had been
discarded next to the stored ones. They had been damaged by
wave and prolonged use and were badly in need of repair. They
would do nicely.
    The pots were close to three feet long and had two bent
spruce saplings on either end and one in the middle, fastened to
the bottom frame, giving the pot an oval shape. Both ends andsides had separate lathes nailed to them. Inside the “parlour” was
fastened a sharpened “bait stick.” The working side of the pots
had tube-shaped netting for the lobster to enter, as well as a small,
easily removable door to retrieve them.
    Deciding to use just one pot for his experiment, Mattie
removed part of the head or end of the pot and, using his axe
and knife, had soon fashioned a hole of nine to ten inches across
between the lathes. He secured one of his wire snares across the
opening and, with the pot loaded into the centre of his canoe,
paddled his way along the shoreline.
    The wind had dropped away to a mere breeze. Black shadows
reached away from the high land. The canoe’s faint wake left a
silvery crease in the water as it passed. An eagle perched atop
one of the tall trees eyed the herring in the canoe out of its reach.
    Mattie picked up one of the herring and gave it a throw. The
eagle left its lofty perch as soon as the fish splashed into the
water. The bird soared on silent wings toward the herring, dived,
and stretched its mighty yellow talons toward the sinking fish.
It tried its best, but sped away from the water with naked claws.
The herring had sunk before the eagle reached it.
    Picking up another herring, Mattie threw it as high as he
could. The fish shone and twisted and turned in a long arc over
the black water. The watching eagle dived again. There was a
swishing sound when its feet brushed the water. Without once
flapping its broad wings, it soared skyward again. Shiny water
droplets fell away as it rose with the silver herring firmly gripped
between one of its claws.
    Mattie could smell the otter rub before he reached it. The
strong