The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-10-27
"RANGIN' ROUND.o ?
What Hundreds of Sportsmen Are
Doing.

Likes 1t Whether Successful or Not
What He Sees and Feels and Enjoys.
written for the PRESS.)
That is the term that the true Maine
hunter applies to If. He loves to range
round" the Wilderness with his gun, not
only in the hope of using that weapon to good
purpose, but because he loves to travel"
through the woods, whose presence he en-
joyes, he loves to explore new country, the
lay of which he solves and grasps, as the
student does problem and he loves the
severe physical exertion, the achievement
of rough experience and that good kind of
tired" that results fl ON it and that renders
refreshment and repose so delightful. He
might not tell you this. He might not fully
realize it himself. but that is the reason
for his love of s'Iangin round"
Let us follow two such hunters on one of
their recent trips. We are not to witness
thrilling adventure with savage deniZen
of the forest, or hairbreadth escapes from
natures dangers, or marvellous sport OF
skill with rod or gun. We are TO take a day IS
tramp in the wilderness. such as compare
lively small number of business men would
be able to endure and still less, capable of
enjoying.
These two hunters are both under
thirty years of age. They arenot untutored
of intellect or uncoutL of manner. Such
Is not necessary for the true hunter. They
are college men and engaged in profession
al work. One has been toughened by recent
experience IN the forest, while the other
though no novice, is fresh from the office
chair.
Imagine yourself on high hill, less than
ten miles from the city of Bangor. The
great Penosbcot valley is spread out beneath
you. 1t is almost wholly wilderness still,
despite many decades of vast numbering
operations. Bangor is simply a larger clear
ing in the forest than are the other towns
and villages farther up the rivers bank
To the east and MOI tn the uninhablted
waste extends, almost unbroken, to the
foothills is the distance, twenty and thirty
miles away. The scattered villages and
towns along the river land the few outlying
farms are tc the surrounding forest what
the cities along the st. Lawrence are to the
great wilderness of Canada. You realize
why it is that at least one deer has been
shot within the city limits of Bangor for
several years, and why citizen was able to,
shoot fox in his back yard the other day
OF course it is all new forest and the trees
are comparatively small sturdy young
oaks and naples have thrust themselves
up between the roofless walls of crlmbling
lumber camps that thirty years ago were
peopled with the slayers of their coniferous
predecessors. Brush and under growth and
rotten trunks are choking up the networks
of old lumber roads. Nature is reclaiming
her own again and with no uncertain
hand.
You have taken bird 's-eye view of the
valley up river as the BangoIean would
say, and now you will cross the bridge at
the littlo city of Oldtown, cross the Maine
Cntral track and the one street that con-
stitutes Milford and in five minutes you
are in the wilderness. The road is a wheel
track in dry weather and water course in
wet. 1t comes to an end after fifteen or
twenty miles, in handful Of farmhouses
called jackson. But you are not going to
far as that. You pass but two or three
little homesteads in your ten mile stretch,
and you perceive that the clearings around
them have lonely, shrinking aspect. as if
concious of their isolation in the presence
of encroachlng nature. You pass spot
where a bear was seen in the road the other
day, and various places where deer have
dashed out of sight at the approach of
horse and team. You GLOSS trout stream
which the remains of an old sawmill might
be found, attesting to the bygone days of
numbering activity.
Near one of these streams and short
distance from the road is. the log camp
from which our two hunters are just start
ing on this bright and crisp October morn
ing. They are laden with a Winchester
rifle, heavy shot gun and little bread
nd rha Tn hra
their hearts if they return empty-h handed,
for they know that ter git er deer er Teller
must either hev er dog or bull luck. or be
ta1nation slow and quiet by natur,'' as a
famous guide once expressed it. They. are
depending on the ''bull-luck' and also are
going into the wilderness, because it is
euch, as one plunges into the breakers for
the IMMIGRATION of the struggle and the
''afte-glow."
The older of the couple has boon through
the region before. but a compass in the
vest pocket of each is not wholly unneces
sary equipment. They follow lumber road
toward the distant foot hills. 1t has baen
raining, and they are soon passing through
a swamp, where the read is a series of wide.
muddy puddles. 1t is jungle on either side
and scramble to get around and not to get
into the water is an impossibility. One of
them wears ordinary laced shoes. with thick
soles because of their lightness for walking
The other has high-topped heavy boots,
fmperyious to water. Both wear thick,
wooden river-driver's stockings. They form
a pad for the feet, and when wet they soon
get warm again, if not dry
At last the swamp, with it's muddy FOOLS
and half submerged and slippery corduroy
bridges is left behind, and after three