Yukon trapper Robert Stitt reflects on a solitary life in the bush, and why he's making a change

Seventy-five-year-old Robert Stitt’s youthful energy, clear eyes and hearty laugh might perhaps be chalked up to 55 years of trapping: long winter months working outside in the fresh air and sleeping in a remote cabin under the northern lights.

Stitt’s been trapping on the Beaver River in southeast Yukon, about 338 kilometres east of Watson Lake, for the past 17 years.

But this year, Stitt has given up his trapline on the Beaver River, and for the first time in years, he's not spending the winter there. He says the cost of hiring aircraft is just too expensive, and there’s also another reason: the threat of wildfires.

He says he almost lost his camp to wildfire a few years ago, and that the river valleys of the southeast Yukon “are the biggest trees in the Yukon.”

“There’s white spruce that are hundreds of years old, they're [an] ancient riparian forest of massive spruce,” he said.

“It's not a matter of 'if' — it's a matter of 'when' I lose it [his camp] to raging wildfires … the trend toward these raging wildfires, the way it’s going, it’s just a matter of time.”

Stitt has a wealth of stories from his years on the trapline.

Every year, he and his three Canadian Inuit dogs would be flown out to his remote camp in the fall and get picked up in March.

A devoted birder with a bachelor's degree in biology, Stitt has been a keen observer of wildlife.

He’s also had a couple of life-threatening encounters over the years. One involved a bear, the other a very agitated cow moose.

One September night in 2017, his dogs started barking, telling him that something was near the camp.

"I opened the door, and [something was] walking towards me like it owned the place, a distance of maybe 10 or 15 metres. It was a massive black bear, obviously bold. And I let out a yell and it bolted and I shut the door, I got my gun, loaded it, and I came out.”

Stitt says it was difficult to see because it was dark, but using a spotlight he aimed for the eyes and took a shot.

He heard “thrashing in the bushes” but didn't want to go out looking for the animal in the dark. He says he slept that night with a gun at his side.

The next morning he found the bear lying on its side, dead. When he started skinning it, he realized shooting it was the right decision.

"There was not one gram of fat on that bear, there was nothing in its stomach but a handful of dried moss," he recalled.

He also noticed its "funny claws," and realized it was a black grizzly bear.

"Black grizzly bears do occur," he said.

Stitt says without his dogs, he might have walked right into the bear. He suspects it had never seen a person before.

“I could have gone out there in the night to shut off my generator, walking 40, 50 metres — who knows what it would have done?

"That was a very sobering experience."

'It launched at me like a freight train'

About a month later, Stitt’s dogs again told him that something was near the camp. He grabbed his rifle and saw “this huge six-foot-plus silver hump” — a cow moose. Stitt says it started walking towards him.

“When I felt it was way too close, I went, 'go on, get it!' to the dog — and the cow made this strange grunt, its ears went back and it launched at me like a freight train."

Stitt started to run, and as he did, he turned to fire a warning shot. That's when he lost his balance and stumbled. The moose was over him "within seconds."

"She's above me, on very slippery ice, slipping and sliding and I'm looking up at her.”

Stitt says he was able to get inside his cabin, and after half an hour he gingerly opened the door and didn't see the moose.

"But … she came screaming around the corner," he recalled.

He had been taking photos earlier that day of birds and still had his camera so he managed to get a couple of pictures of the moose.

"It was the most fearsome thing I've ever seen,” he said.

“Her eyes were bugged out like they were on a stalk, her mane was all up, and those ears were right back. And I just shut the door and said, 'well, I've got a few indoor projects for the afternoon.'"

'Full moon is my favourite time'

Stitt says he loves being out in the bush, especially in the moonlight, observing nature and watching for animal tracks.

"Full moon is my favourite time. You get those several days either side of a full moon, where I'm coming home on the Ski-doo, ideally at dusk and that beautiful big moon [is] over the spruce.”

Things are changing in the area, though, he says.

He recalled how he nearly lost his camp to fire in July 2021. Wildland firefighters had set up sprinklers on his buildings as a last-gasp measure while a fire approached. Luckily, however, the wind shifted and the fire changed direction about five kilometres away from his camp.

He says smoke and flames were still visible in the area into the fall, and the aftermath of the fire was devastating.

“It must have been hurricane force winds [going] through, it looks almost like a nuclear event,  [it] just layered these huge trees.”

Still, even if he's not at his Beaver River camp this year, he's not ready to quit his lifestyle. Stitt says he’ll find a different trapline so he can be out next winter.

Sharing skills and knowledge

Stitt’s skills are in high demand at fur handling workshops, says Jackie Yacklin, secretary-treasurer of the Yukon Trappers Association. She says Stitt knows how to skin a pelt, inside out.

“Very methodical, really methodical. There’s a certain way to skin … sometimes there are new ways or new methods and he’s cognizant of that,” she said.

“When he’s doing his demonstration, he starts out the same way, he explains what he’s doing, he talks about what he’s doing every step of the way…everybody is able to learn from that. It’s not like, ‘this is an old trapper's trick and I’m not gonna tell you’ — he’s willingly sharing his knowledge.”

She says Stitt’s marten pelts in particular are top notch.

“The pelts are all nicely brushed, the ears are dried standing up, which makes them more attractive to the graders.”

Yacklin hopes that younger trappers will follow in Stitt’s footsteps. She says people like Stitt, who are self-sufficient and resilient, are attracted to the trapping life.

“They fall in love with being in the great outdoors, being exposed to the elements, getting up and rising to the challenge every day of making sure they have water and heat and shelter and then going out and checking their traps and making sure the handling is done properly … it’s a lifestyle.”