By TRAVIS BARRETT

Outdoors Writer

The safest bet is nearly as unsure as any of the other gambles. The ice so early in the winter is unsafe in the best of times, and the four inches of fresh powder from the night before makes it impossible for a newcomer to the area to find his way.

It all looks the same.

We tiptoe across the marsh along a natural dam, David Wilson first in the three-man procession as he carries a large chisel in his left hand and drags an empty sled by a rope in his right. Every couple of steps, he taps the chisel a few times in succession -- shrugging his shoulders and moving on.

Behind him and his 10-year-old grandson, I panic every time a twig snaps below my boots, but they trudge on confidently.

Wilson, a large man, isn't worried about icy water that's mid-thigh deep. Walking the roundabout path of the dam, circling back to the middle of the marsh, he pauses to kick snow aside. Between his feet, a small medal ring, just a couple of inches in diameter, pokes up through the ice.

Wilson, a Sidney resident, kneels down and begins poking away at the ring with the chisel. Soon, he'll be poking down into the water, hoping his chisel doesn't hit bottom.

NUMBERS ARE UP

According to results released by Maine's Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife, more than 12,000 beaver were successfully harvested during last year's season.

It was the highest final count in 10 years, in part because fur prices were up, helping generate interest from casual trappers, and also because the state lenghthened the season. Even with roughly 1,000 members of the Maine Trapper's Association, Wilson, who is the association's vice president, isn't surprised to see the traditional practice of trapping animals for sport on the rise.

"We've trained over 100 new trappers in past two years, so it's a growing sport," said Wilson, a registered Maine guide and certified trapping safety instructor.

Trapping, though, doesn't carry the same cache as hunting and fishing -- outdoors pursuits that tourism boards can tout endlessly to draw people into Maine.

"There's a stigma attached to trapping," Wilson said. "But it's one that's way overstated by uneducated people who don't know the sport and how it works."

This year's beaver season runs through April in most Wildlife Management Districts, and three types of trap are used for beaver -- a body snare trap (which is used under ice), a body gripping trap (under ice or in open water) or a foothold trap (under ice or in underwater slide conditions).

Trapping beaver is not done simply as a sport. It's also done as a public service at times throughout the year. Controlling beaver populations keeps low-lying roads from being washed out and it can also help curtail the spread of diseases in still ponds.

"Trapping beavers is the most humane and efficient way to harvest them," said Wilson, who is also the president of the Capital Area Trapping Club. "Trapping is a very important tool for nuisance-animal management and for helping to manage wildlife. Without trapping, the animals over-populate and move into cities and towns and become nuisances. Too much, and you get disease outbreaks and starvation.

"I'd much rather manage animals instead of letting nature manage them. Our way is humane, but nature is cruel -- there's starvation, sickness, cold winters. Animals are a renewable resource that, if properly managed, will last a lifetime. It's like trees or anything else, they have to be managed."

Wilson also refuted the notion that beaver, when held under water by snare or grip traps, drown the way we associate drowning with humans.

"(The trap) renders the animal unconscious quickly, but beavers don't drown," Wilson said. "They die of a lack of oxygen. The way they are created, they have a flap that does not allow water to go into their lungs. When caught in a trap, they die of carbon monoxide poisoning because they can't get oxygen."

IT'S IN THE STORE

Wilson's father trapped for most of his younger life, but David himself did not start trapping until nine years ago. The first thing he trapped was a 150-pound black bear, and he was instantly hooked on the sport.

"I actually went on a bear hunt," he recalled. "I sat out in a stand in the woods for four days, and I never even saw an animal. So the guide I was with went and put a couple of traps out. Within two days, I had a bear. I was like, 'Whoa! This is something!' "

From there, Wilson got his father back into the woods, trapping everything from muskrat to pine marten. In 2002, he became a registered guide and started leading bear-trapping expeditions. Slowly, after years of preparing his own pelts for the fur market, he began to accumulate contacts.

Last year, he opened Track and Trap Trapping Supplies, and this year he and his wife, Beth, joined friend Christian Carlson of Thorndike in builing a shop on their property. They carry traps, lures, baits and virtually anything else the trapper would need.

There certainly aren't many places in central Maine where trapping takes on the importance it does at Wilson's Track and Trap.

"It's definitely a passion and a commitment that I want to pass down to my grandsons," Wilson said. "I want to show them the sport and how to take advantage of the resources we've been given so they can use them to their full potential.

"That's the thing about trapping. It's the tradition."

JOB WELL DONE

Admittedly, the sight of a 20-pound beaver, caught in the arms of a trap and hauled out of a pond onto the ice is disarming to the novice. And though the image of the trap clutching the beaver isn't pretty, neither are the dozens of downed trees making the quarter-mile walk to the pond's edge an obstacle course. The smell, too, is hideous -- a blend somewhere between sulfur and ammonia -- and an unmistakeable tip-off to beaver activity.

With so much wreckage, it's clear something needed to be done around the small pond in Summerhaven. As Wilson poked his chisel into the water, stopping his movement after only a few inches, it was clear he had done something.

"We've got one," he said, and he began chiseling out a wider hole in the ice to lift the animal through.

Whether it's during the trapping season or when a call comes in from a local game warden about a problem beaver dam somewhere, Wilson and others will be there to lend their expertise.

Trappers take great pride in their craft.

"You have to know animals better than anyone," Wilson said. "A hunter will know the woods. A bowhunter will know the trails that an animal's going to use. But a trapper will know where an animal is going to step. It's about matching your skills against the animal's and being able to draw him to a 1-inch circle. Then you have to have him step right in that trap band and capture him.

"It's challenging and there's a lot to it."

Travis Barrett -- 621-5648

tbarrett@centralmaine.com