When I walked into Nick Wyshinski’s shop in 1990, it changed my life.
Nick is a veteran fur buyer and trapping supply dealer in Berwick. He is a legend among lure makers and the trapping industry, and he was a major influence on a teenager looking to expand his love of the outdoors with a trapline.
Dorrance Township resident Ernie Heller, a veteran trapper and my trapline mentor, took me to Nick’s to load up on supplies for trapping season, which had already started. In my mind, Ernie was a legend just like Nick, and I was on top of the world as I stood with them inside the shop. Ernie had been taking his furs to Nick’s for decades and they had become good friends. I listened as they caught up on old times and great harvests from decades ago. I sensed a hint of pride in Ernie’s voice when he told Nick he was teaching me how to trap, and I shared that pride to have him as a teacher.
As a teenager, I read about trapping in “Fur Fish and Game” and listened to every detail about Ernie’s traplines from years ago. I was ready to become an accomplished trapper, and everything I needed could be found inside Nick’s small shop.
As soon as Ernie and I walked through the door, I marveled at every detail. The walls were adorned with an array of supplies – traps, woven packbaskets, trapping books, trapstakes, dirt sifters, pan covers, rolls of wire and shovels.
Behind the glass-topped wooden counter were several rows of shelves, each holding small bottles of lures and scents formulated by Nick. On top of the counter lay a thick pad of paper that Nick used to write receipts and tally prices for the furs he bought.
I was amazed. But what I saw in the back of the shop drew my attention even more.
Nick stood facing the wall, scraping a coon pelt that was draped over a wooden fleshing board. Wearing a fur cap and a faded, green jacket (the same kind that Ernie wore), Nick methodically and efficiently worked the skin of the raccoon pelt with his scraper; transforming it into a clean, white masterpiece. He had decades of experience, and Nick could put up furs better than anyone I knew.
Below the fleshing board was a trough that collected the fat scraped from the hides. Putting up fur isn’t a clean job, but Nick always believed in keeping things organized and neat.
Behind Nick the finished pelts of raccoon, fox, mink and muskrat hung from rows of wire strung across the ceiling. In the back of the shop sat a woodburner and an old wooden desk, worn smooth from years of use. On it was a typewriter. Nick used it to write his trapping books and articles.
Ernie took me through the shop and pointed out the supplies we would need, and on that thick pad of paper, Nick figured a price, which was more than fair.
As Ernie and I headed home, I knew I had become a trapper for life. I would make many more trips to Nick’s shop, both to buy supplies at the beginning of the season and sell my furs when the season concluded.
And I did. I spent many subsequent hours in Nick’s shop, watching him put up fur and talk about trapping. I remember the anticipation I felt every season when I bought supplies, and the pride I felt as I watched Nick inspect the furs that I brought to sell when the season ended.
Although my days of running a 100-trap line are over, my desire to trap has never waned. I still boil my traps every fall and catch a few raccoon, fox, mink and muskrat here and there.
Trapping has become a vital part of my outdoor life. And it all started that night in Nick’s shop.
Previously published in the Times Leader, December 17, 2006.
