I held the old fishing plug in my hand and marveled at its simplicity. It was nothing more than a 2-inch white plug with a deer hair tail and a single treble hook hidden on the end.
Nothing fancy, but the deep scratches on the plug’s wooden body were evidence that the lure had fooled many a fish, most likely bass and pickerel.
The plug was made by Ernie Starner, who gave it to me in 1995. I used it a few times, but have since retired the plug rather than risk it being destroyed by a hefty bass or the razor sharp teeth of a pickerel.
I’m not saving the plug because I think it has any monetary value. I’m saving it out of sentiment.
Starner has since passed away, but I still have a ton of memories and a few objects, like the fishing plug, that provide a glimpse into the type of outdoorsman he was.
In the corner of my trapping shed sits a worn trapper’s packbasket. Made of thin strips of wood woven around a sturdy frame of ash and covered with a green, heavy canvas, the basket has seen decades of use.
Like the fishing plug, it was made by Starner and used on his fox traplines years ago. It would need some repairs to make it usable, but again, like the plug, I have retired it.
The fishing plug and packbasket both serve as examples of a bygone era, or at least one that is growing increasingly distant. They represent a time when outdoorsmen like Starner needed something for their hunting, trapping or fishing trips, chances are they made it themselves.
Trips to enormous corporate mega-stores like Cabella’s weren’t an option years ago. Rather than spend a pricy sum buying the latest gear and gadgets, old-timers like Starner took matters into their own hands, literally.
When I met Starner he lived on a dirt lane outside of White Haven. It was 1995 and he was 78 at the time. A heavy snowstorm the previous winter partially collapsed an old barn on Starner’s property, and he called to see if I was interested in tearing it down and salvaging the wood.
The old barn was actually a long shed that Starner built in the 1950s to raise mink. The frame was made with thick, oak beams and the building was enclosed with beautiful wide hemlock boards. Starner made nest boxes for the hundreds of mink he raised out of old, wooden Army ammunition boxes.
In another nearby building, Starner showed me wooden beehives that he made along with an enormous chest freezer that he used to freeze the furs he had taken during trapping season.
He made it all himself, and while he may have had pride in the accomplishment, Starner never let it show.
His modesty was a reflection of the aforementioned bygone era of do-it-yourself outdoorsmen. To Starner, it wasn’t a big deal to make something yourself when you needed it.
It was simply the way they did things back then.
Starner’s “jack-of-all-trades” approach wasn’t limited to building sheds, packbaskets, beehives, chest freezers and fishing plugs.
He also created his own trap sets as well. Each set, which targeted a variety of species but mainly dealt with fox, mink and beaver, was sketched in the pages of a book Starner kept in his garage.
When I look at the fishing plug and packbasket today, I think back to 1995 when I met a true old-timer who had an incredible influence on my life as a hunter, trapper and angler. It’s an influence that is evident today, as the wide hemlock boards and oak beams that I used to create my trapping shed used to be an old mink shed standing on a dirt lane outside of White Haven.
Previously published in the Times Leader, July 22, 2007.
