A minefield of traps snares dogs

During the mild weather before Thanksgiving, I took my grandchildren for a walk on the trail behind my house, looking at big rocks, watching the larch needles rain down, listening to the grouse thumping and checking out the trees.

We put on our hunter orange, arranged the dogs' hunter orange handkerchief collars and headed out. The kids wanted to go past the gated area and see what was ahead. We were talking Thanksgiving as they ran back and forth with the dogs.

Suddenly to my left, less than five feet away, our large black dog yelped and groaned in pain, trying to yank free from something. I was startled and couldn't figure out what had happened. I looked and saw him frantically pulling with his foot caught in a trap.

He continued to yelp and cry and the children kept asking me what was wrong, what was happening. I tried to jam my walking stick into the jaws of the trap so as to free his bloody foot. It broke, so I grabbed another larger stick and tried to pry the trap open while he frantically bit at his foot, the stick and my gloved hands. As I grabbed and hurried, trying to free his foot, I heard another yelp and cry. Another five feet away, my little Welsh corgi tried to get away as a trap clamped onto his hind foot.

I told the kids not to move as it suddenly dawned on me we were in a land mind of traps. Now both children, ages 5 and 6, are crying, holding each other, both dogs are yelping in horrible pain, and I'm going crazy trying to pry the traps open to no avail.

I finally pushed the corgi between my legs and leaned with all my strength to spring the trap open. I managed to get enough leverage to free his injured leg. I turned to the 100-pound big dog and, with blood spurting out of his foot and leg and him still biting, I flattened myself against his body and managed to muscle enough strength against the spring to free his mangled foot.

None of this happened instantly. It took more than 20 minutes to free the dogs. My grandkids were totally traumatized. Had it not been for the adrenaline, I doubt I could have freed the dogs. I'm 62 and have arthritis.

My small grandkids had just skipped through this area. They were so lucky. They didn't notice the cat food laced in the traps or smell the musk sprayed on the earth. The dogs did. This whole scene happened 100 feet away from a gated road, less than a shovel length off the road and less than a mile from my house.

I have walked or ridden horses on these roads for more than 30 years, with dogs and kids in tow. Many other people use the ridge road and trails as well. Any hunter could have stepped in these traps. The cottonwood and larch needles covered them well. As I walked home with the limping dogs and traumatized children, I tried in disbelief to answer their little innocent questions of "Why?" How do you answer this question?

I told the children that in all my years of walking the ridges, I've never been bothered by the four legged animals. Some two-legged ones are a different story. They simply couldn't believe someone would do this. Who are you that would be so reckless, careless and cruel? Who are you that care nothing about the torture you inflict on animals?

Now I know where the little red fox went that lived around here. I walked up later with cable cutters. The traps are history. One dog has a crushed foot that is infected and being treated, the other one still limps, and the kids have had more than one nightmare. My wrists are sprained and I'm still getting help for my back. I'm sorry you cannot be held accountable.

Marion Foley lives in the Martin City area.