MONEY MUSK Published in Wetmore Spectator— January 24, 1936. By John T. Bristow The deep snows of the past month recall the winters back a half century, and more. It seems there was always snow on the ground in the winter months then. In the early days, besides making boots and shoes, my father, William Bristow, hunted and trapped a good deal, whenever he could spare the time from his business. Always one or more of his boys would go with him on those outings. We all loved the outdoors—and with my father we were like pals. Among his catches were mink, raccoons, lynx, bobcats, and sometimes a catamount. The catamount was an overgrown wildcat between the bobcat and the cougar in size. The largest one he ever caught weighed sixty-seven pounds. There are none here now. My father did not trap for the little fur-bearing, stink-throwing skunk, but often one would be found in one of his mink traps. Then, from a safe distance, he would shoot the skunk, carefully remove it, and deodorize the steel trap by burning before making another set. The time came, though, when my father thought he might just as well save the skunk pelts. Skunk fur was in demand at a good price, the best skins bringing around four dollars. My father was not avaricious. But times were close—and he had many mouths to feed. And four dollars was four dollars. My mother, of course, did not like to have her home polluted with skunk essence—and her boys refused to help with the skinning. So, when my father would find a well-marked skunk in one of his mink traps he would say, rather sadly, as he tossed it aside, “That’s four dollars thrown away.” Then, one Sunday when William Peters was along—he was called Methuselah, or Thuse, for short—my father found a big skunk in one of his traps. It had fine markings. He said, “I’ll skin this one, if Thuse will help me.” Thuse said he didn’t mind; he had trapped and skinned a lot of them without getting stunk up. It was a cold day—ice and snow everywhere. And while they skinned that skunk my brother Charley and I built a roaring fire with the scaley bark ripped off standing shell-bark hickory trees, and some fallen dead tree limbs picked out of the deep snow.