The wolverine has an exceedingly bad reputation among all men, white or red, who make their living by trapping in the Far North. If one believed the stories of some of the older Indians, one would think that the animal had a superhuman intelligence added to a positive mania for destruction.

To look at, the Wolverine is not very formidable. I heard, one day, a white trapper describe him as an overgrown badger that could not grunt quite as well as a pig but could climb trees far more easily than a bear.

Discarding the exaggeration which generally goes with all tales concerning the animal, there is no doubt that the Wolverine is very cunning and is inclined to be mischevious as far as traps and supplies are concerned.

I know of one authentic case where an Indian had to change his trap lines; in fact, quit the country altogether and go elsewhere because of a Wolverine who had made up his mind to dodge his footsteps all winter and feed on his baits and game. That animal would follow the man’s trail, starting a few hours behind him. Each time he got to a trap he would find it, although the tell-tale signs had been brushed off the snow. He would then, through smell, locate the chain, dig it up, jerk it with his teeth, spring the trap and eat the bait.

For weeks the Indian tried to shoot that Wolverine, but failed. When the man, knowing through experience that he was followed, turned back suddenly in his footsteps or remained hidden on his own trail, the Wolverine, sensing the danger, would stop and vanish for the time being. As soon as the trapper proceeded on his way, the animal would follow and resume his mischief.

Once in Labrador, I had a cache raided by a Wolverine during the summer. We had left some grub, clothing and cooking utensils in a waterproof bag securely lashed to the branch of a tree. When we returned, the bag was gone. The Wolverine had managed to crawl down the branch and cut the rope. After that he had torn everything open, eaten every piece of food he could get his teeth in and destroyed or defiled all the clothing. But what really made us mad was the fact that he had carried away and hidden the tins of pork and beans and lard which he could not have opened anyway, however strong were his jaws.

The only thing which we recovered intact was a brand new kettle—and then we had to climb a tree for it. The Wolverine had carried it half way up a spruce and left it wedged between two branches.