The Cove

Although the boy in this book is me, this book is not a true autobiography. It is, instead, a book celebrating nature and a young boy's discoveries in the natural world surrounding him. All the adventures and discoveries described herein happened during a relatively short span of time; the late forties and early fifties of the last century. That last sentence makes this sound like ancient history, doesn't it? Don't worry. The small adventures described within its pages can still be experienced by young people today, if they are open to them. The first chapter briefly describes our family's life of poverty but this and the following chapter mapping out the territory where my adventures took place, are not the main theme of the book. Its theme should be thought of as the natural history of an area in Maine that does not exist today; The Cove, but when it did, was an inspiration to me when I desperately needed it. I hope that instead of getting a depressing "Oh-pity-me" experience from reading my words, you will instead share the joy of discovering the world of nature up close and personal, so to speak, as I did in spite of the obstacles in my way. So, as Tom Hennessey so beautifully said in the foreword, follow my "trail of words" and I'll try to put you in my shoes so you can follow me as I recount my life changing small adventures while growing up along the Penobscot River in the State of Maine. My father first introduced me to fishing by taking me with him one day to a little trout brook in Levant, Maine. His fishing gear was primitive; a pole cut on the spot with a length of line tied to its tip; then a single hook tied to the line and baited with a single earthworm, but it did the intended job. He caught trout that day and in doing so, that little experience changed my life. It introduced me to a natural world I never imagined existed beyond my doors and my back yard. I could never again see a stretch of water without wondering what mysteries lay beneath its surface. I later caught fish with more sophisticated gear and sometimes with even most primitive gear than my father's as I describe in some of these chapters. Poverty can drag you down and even kill you if you let it, but it can also be the greatest learning experience of your life if you let it. If you are inspired enough, you learn to make do with what's at hand if you don't have what you need to do the job "properly." A piece of wire could become a fish hook; a broom handle and a nail could become a fish spear; a snippet of fur from your pet skunk could become a fishing fly, and (under the right conditions) a large flat rock could magically transport you through the sky. I learned how to build rafts that float and a raft that sank. I built a boat from some very ordinary materials I scavenged from around the house and the neighborhood. But, as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray. It took longer for me to build that boat than for it to sink. I learned a cold, wet lesson one dark night when I discovered the difference between a sucker and a salmon. I learned that some fish can actually eat a fish larger than itself. I learned the places where the different species of fish preferred to hang out and what they fed on. I learned how to catch fish that were only a couple of inches long to others that were more than three feet long; all from the same area. Immersing yourself in the natural world brings you in contact with its many creatures. Some of them became my pets. White Footed Mice, Muskrats, a crow, a skunk, and even a one-eyed seagull and other creatures came to the Simpson house on North Main Street. Some stayed for a while but others did not. I learned things from all of them, though. There's an old saying that beggars can't be choosers. However, beggars (poor folks) can be opportunists. We ate the fish we caught and the deer we shot, but when my brother and I discovered the town dump across the river in Veazie, Maine, it was like finding