Give this some thought: what better way is there to “go green” than to simply go outside and enjoy the outdoors? The more time you spend outside the more you’ll come to respect nature; appreciation should come shortly after that. Once someone learns to appreciate something, you’ll see that they often do the right thing in order to preserve that thing they find special. In the case at hand, if people spent more time in the beautiful outdoors they would probably be more encouraged to take the steps required to protect that privilege we call outdoor recreation.
When I was a young kid, I never really got why my father reveled in the exploration part of hunting or fishing; my short stubby legs worked up a wicked exercise trying to keep up with him. In most cases I was unable to keep my bearings while traveling deep into some of Penobscot County’s proudest thickets, but my father would keep plugging along and eventually we’d pop out somewhere on an ITS trail or old logging road. When walking back from one of these trips, spying our pick-up truck as we came around a bend was generally a refreshing site, realizing then that my legs would only have to carry me a few hundred more yards. After a while though, I got used to the day-long hunts; by the time it was legal for me to carry my own rifle, trekking and enjoying the outdoors with my father was a favorite pastime. When I reached 16 years of age I was finally able to hunt by myself legally, the border of Maine became the border of my backyard.
Now that I am older, hiking the mountainous terrain of Franklin County is simply a treat. I did a little exploring for myself last Wednesday, stomping through foreign terrain with a compass in hand and a camera stowed away in my pocket. It was a bleak overcast day, with “nothing much going for it” so to speak, and a quick hike seemed like a good excuse to stretch the legs; after all, rugby matches have been so infrequent lately.
A sprouting fern. Walking through a stand of red pine, I noticed a wreckage of trees, presumably from the stiff winds this winter. I’ve seen examples of this around my house in Farmington, only I was there to witness the trees being tossed back and forth. The gusts had been relentless and trees were forced to their limits—their fibrous spines strained so they wouldn’t succumb to a sudden snap and long fall to the forest floor. Similar wind carnage had gone on in this stand of red pine, trees were scattered along the forest floor, their limbs stretched up into the air.
At one point while walking along, a pair of mallards flew over my head quacking in a northward course. The drake stood out with his brilliant green head, while the hen flew modestly along, keeping steady pace.
Soon enough a stream interrupted my path which looked healthy enough to harbor a brook trout, but my hand held only a single-shot 20-gauge I happened to be toting around. It’s such a slap in the forehead to come across a beautiful looking brook and not have a fishing rod to sample the waters with. Schools of baitfish danced around in the shallows, even their casual underwater maneuvers betrayed a fleeting lifestyle. Watching the little creatures swim about nervously raised my curiosity on what was lurking in the depths. I continued on, pole less, with my curiosity unquenched.
A viburnum begins its bloom period. The stream I passed had recently been flooded, so I kept a sharp eye out for a beaver hard at work. Everywhere I looked there were severed trees, hundreds of small stumps, all with that characteristic tooth-chiseled point. Lying haphazardly around the stumps were various lengths of branches, stripped of their bark and chiseled to a point on both ends. I’ve tripped in the past while fishing as a kid and actually landed face-first on one of these beaver-sharpened sticks—a long three-wheeler ride back to the house, a trip into town, and five stitches later, my lip was intact again. It wasn’t a dramatic event, just a bloody one with no fish to show for it. Fifteen years later, the scattered sticks prompted some flashbacks, but also caused me to wonder why the beaver failed to incorporate a lot of them into its dam structure. Thinking back on it, I imagine these sticks were simply chewed for food and discarded after.
By the time I decided to head back to the homestead my pants were soaked and my shirt damp from traveling through numerous tight spots, and wet ones at that. I brandished my compass in front of a wall of evergreens and chose a course that would bring me somewhere close to my truck. A while later I’d be walking into my house, stripping off the wet layers, and testing how comfy my couch felt. A wet, chilly day rewarded with a nice warm nap.
Remember: if you’re trying to “go green,” I recommend merely spending whatever time you can outside; I bet you’ll find your green along the way. Happy hiking!
A purple trillium. 
Very nice article………….who is the author?
I enjoyed reading this. Nice pics, too.
Very nice article and pics. Who wrote it. They did a gret job hope to see more like this
Sam,
I relate totally to your story and your personal philosophy. Sounds like we could be of the same generation. I grew up in upstate NY in a hunting & trapping family. As a kid I knew nearly every individual tree and stream within a 3 mile radius of my home and knew the best hunting grounds within a 40 mile radius. Now I do my “hunting” with a camera in and around Franklin County.
Thanks for the kind postings, everyone.
Gil, it does sound like we go about things very similarly. I feel naked without a camera outdoors–without one you can still enjoy that “something special” by yourself, but it can be rewarding to give other people the opportunity to witness it as well. The photographs of your rainy garden, for example, was a great touch to the dailybulldog a few weeks ago because even though people obviously enjoy looking at flowers, and observing the rain, not everyone is in a position to see these things in conjunction for themselves–especially not in the high-quality, revealing photographs you can produce. Send me an e-mail some time! And stay tuned for my next article, which should be published quite shortly. Thanks Gil, keep on doing your thing.
Sam
A spring hike with no fish pole? Love the pics, very “springy”. Keep these articles coming…
Great article Sam!!
I am glad I stumbled across this…it definitely brightened my day:)
Lizzy