Here are some mid 80s Maryland foxes.

Awesome Pics Boss....Do any of your kids trap today? Assuming those are your children in the pics.

The guy on the far left holding the two skunks, is Jim Harrison. Quite the legend. Here's a little info on Jim:

"At the other end of the social spectrum was James P. Harrison, better known in Utah’s West Desert as Trapper Jim. Trapper Jim was no showman, but in his own way he was plenty photogenic. And authentic as authentic can be.

Jim lived in a musty dugout cabin at Fish Springs (shown in the background), which today is a national wildfowl refuge. But before it became a refuge for wildlife it was a refuge for outlaws, moonshiners, rustlers, outcasts and reprobates. Trapper Jim fit right in!

Up until the big winter of ’49, Jim ran cattle at Fish Springs, supplementing his income as a trapper of what he called “mushrats.” After selling his spread to the government, Jim stayed on as resident predator, doing what he could to maintain the delicate ecological balance between the rats and ducks—all the while railing against just about everything that was transpiring in the outside world. Once, he even offered up a complaint about Timber Jack Joe.

“They tell me this guy is stinkier than I am,” he huffed, pointing to the cover of a Sunday supplement that was tacked to the wall of his cabin next to a rusty coyote trap and a moldering beaver tail. “Some guy in Wyoming who calls himself a trapper.”

It so happened I had written the article and taken the picture. I assured my host that he had nothing to worry about, for when it came to personal hygiene, Trapper Jim had set the bar so low that no one could possibly crawl underneath it.

Unlike Timber Jack Joe, Trapper Jim didn’t wear animal skins. His wardrobe consisted of cotton long johns, denim jeans, and a wool shirt. He had just two sets of each. In the fall he’d change from one set to the other, rinse out his dirty clothes in a nearby irrigation ditch and leave them to dry on the alkaline ground. During colder months, he’d wear a tobacco juice-stained snowmobile suit, into the seat of which he’d stuffed several fistfuls of duck feathers for extra insulation.

“If you’ve lived out here for as long as I have,” he declared, “you learn you’d better keep your (This word is unacceptable on Trapperman) warm in the winter.”

Like Timber Jack Joe, Trapper Jim would have been more at home in an earlier era. Nothing about the Twentieth Century appealed to him and every new invention that came along baffled and frustrated him. Meantime, fur coats had fallen out of fashion, which in Jim’s case was bad news, because when it came to the “science” of catching fur-bearing wild things he was the absolute master.

Another thing the two men had in common: neither had to live the rustic lives they lived. Jim could have simply moved from his earthen dugout into the fine brick house he owned on the refuge—or into his sister’s mansion in Federal Heights. He could have lived comfortably on what he’d banked after selling his ranch to the government, augmented by monthly disability checks that came as a result of injuries he’d suffered fighting in the trenches of France during World War One. But, no, Jim didn’t want to live anywhere but in the desert, nor do anything in life except just exactly what he wanted to do."

Me and my old man circa 1967.

i was born in 68.

Great pictures and stories. Thanks

1959

This would be mid 80s. This is the coyote that primed my pipe.