I consider myself a country boy, having been raised for the first fifteen years of my life in - for want of a better phrase - a white trash trailer park located in a community known as Wrights Corners New York.

It was what is called an incorporated township, and boasted a population of about forty people. Wow!

Obviously, everyone knew everyone elses business; who was drinking too much, what families were in debt or fighting, who was getting separated, and on and on and on. I think being reared in a such an incestuous place like that is the reason why I value my privacy so much now, prefering to live anonymously in large cities.

Growing up in the country well all had guns and, being just kids, went through our periods of shooting at anything and everything, including, or course, almost every kind of animal that was unlucky enough to cross our paths.

Like most normal kids, I quickly grew out of this phase, developing a great deal of respect for animals and life of all kind. And even though I shot lots of squirrels and such, and I never appreciated the fine art of trapping like some of the kids I grew up with.

Lots of folks in the country hunted to live, and most in my area preferred to trap since it actually was a lot cheaper and more effective than hiking around carrying a heavy rifle. They would simply leave traps scattered around, typically attached to a nearby tree or log, and return to retrieve their prey a few days later.

But I always suspected that it was an unnecessarily cruel practice.

On some level I could rationalize my behavior when shooting a bird - after all, it died quickly and relatively painlessly. But it seemed to me that trapped animals would suffer, both physically from the pain of the traps jaws, and, no doubt, psychologically from being held against their will.

I was brave enough once to raise this point with my family, and was soundly ridiculed for my thoughfulness. I even went so far as to opine that many trapped animals were smart enough to understand their predicament; that they knew when the man returned they would die.

This wasn't a popular theory and after a short time I learned to keep such heretical ideas to myself.

My parents ended up getting divorced, so mother, brother and mutant moved to Lockport New York; a teeming metropolis of about 20,000 people.

I eventually ended up moving to Buffalo to attend University (Math and Computer Science!), and later relocated to New York City.

In New York I lived in what's The Lower East Side, working as a software engineer, while making art and running an art gallery on the side.

My girlfriend and I at the time liked games of the sexual variety (surprise, surprise, I still do!), and we particularly enjoyed a little BDSM.

To assist us we had lots of little toys, including, of course, multiple restraints featuring several pairs of wonderfully shiny metal handcuffs.

It was one of these pairs of handcuffs that finally confirmed my suspicion about the cruelty of certain practices, and earned me the knickname Urban Trapper.

One day my girlfriend and I were headed to work and stopped on a corner to kiss and hug and generally take a long long time to tell each other have a nice day!

While we talked about this and that I was poking at a lump in my coat pockets and eventually produced a pair of handcuffs that I forgot I was carrying. We both laughed, continued talking and enjoyed the friendly risque comments of bypassers who noticed the handcuffs.

Idly, I locked one of the bracelets on the fence behind us. We finished our kissing and were about to part company when I realized that I didn't have the key! Damn!

We were both late so decided there was nothing else we could do but return in the evening.

After all, nobody could steal them since them since they were locked to a fence, and who would bother? They were just a pair of fifty dollar handcuffs, not a three hundred dollar bicycle; they'd be there all right.

That night I got home first, grabbed the key and headed back to the fence where we'd left the handcuffs.

Imagine my surprise when I saw someone wearing my handcuffs on one wrist, the other bracelet still attached to the fence! Holy shit! I'D CAUGHT SOMETHING!

He must have been as dumb as a barn door to try to fit the open end of the bracelet on his wrist. And he was a big ugly son of a bitch too, really pissed off, screaming and yelling and pulling as hard as he could on the handcuff that was still locked to the fence. But it wouldn't give at all, and he just got himself worked up more and more as time went on.

I stood across the street and watched with a bunch of other people; nobody wanted to get close to that guy since he was lashing out like crazy. Eventually someone called 911 and New Yorks Emergency Services cut him free.

I told my girlfriend what happened and she couldn't stop laughing!

Being the consumate New Yorker she had always considered me a hick of sorts, and now she had proof! Of course she told all our friends about Mutant, The Urban Trapper. They all got a good laugh out of it, and I still get this event thrown back at me even now, some fifteen years later.

But I never could honestly laugh with anyone about it.

I'd always think about those animals, deep out in the woods, in the dark or in the light, in the cold or in the warmth, restrained against their will. And I bet they fought and struggled just as hard and probably even harder than the guy I trapped did.

Except he knew that when man came he'd be released. He wouldn't die.

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