The Ballad of Parker & Sage  #23

This is a short story about Parker and Sage as witnessed by me while fishing at Fourth Musquacook Lake this week. It is also a vivid reminder of the power of animals and what they can bring to us in terms of teaching tools.

Parker and Sage are very young in their life. They are both around 1 year old. Parker is the male and Sage is the female. Both are English Setters and are owned by Sherry Morris. Parker and Sage are brother and sister although they are fathered by the same dog, they have different mothers.  Sherry told me when she got them earlier this year, and I continued to watch them on Facebook where she posted updates about them and their antics.  TC and I stopped into Chandler Lake Camps earlier this year and met them for the first time. Clearly, Sage was the dominant dog and Parker the understudy. At an early age, I was told that Sage took to the water and really loved it. Parker not so much, and in fact he tried to avoid it at all costs. When I first saw them, it was clear that they were inseparable. They went everywhere together, did everything together and Parker listened to Sage all the time. Well that last comment was never so true as what I was fortunate to witness that day while fishing Fourth Musquacook Lake in the north Maine woods.  The bond that those two have formed was an inspiration and a lesson we should all take something from, I know I did. Let me explain.

Tuesday afternoon, August 21, 2012, we were at Fourth Musquacook on a fishing trip. We were staying there at the lodge run by Jason Bouchard and Sherry Morris. We were having a wonderful time and had been there since Monday. We had come off the lake earlier in the day, already having had some of the best fishing I had experienced in a long time. The four of us decided to go back out in the late afternoon hours and fish the same spot until dinner time. The first boat went out ahead of my boat; frankly I think to establish a toe hold on our fishing spot we had so much luck at earlier. As my boat left the dock, I noticed that the dogs were no longer there watching us, but gave it little thought. As we got half way to the location we were headed for, which is at the head of the lake, I noticed that Parker had been following the first boat by way of the shore. I commented to my buddy that I hoped they didn’t follow us all the way to the head of the lake because I was concerned they may not find their way back. We finally got to our destination and dropped anchor next to the first boat and began fishing.  It wasn’t long before I noticed Sage was on shore close to us watching our movements. I again commented that I was amazed that they had come all this way from the camp, but was concerned that they may try to swim out to our boats. Now, at the spot they were at, was a brook that flowed away from the lake. We were parked just off shore from that brook in the lake. I then noticed that Parker had joined Sage on shore, and they were both watching us. All of a sudden, Sage jumped in the brook and crossed it to the other side of the shore. Remember that Parker does not like water that much. Parker watched and then started to cross and stopped and turned around and went back to shore. He tried again, to no avail. Sage on the other hand was watching him and barking to him to get over here. Parker tried again and then just went back. He stopped and started barking and howling to Sage. Sage, in an effort to help, jumped back in the water, swam across and went behind Parker and nudged him with her nose to cross.  He tried again but would not. She then jumped in the water again, swam across the brook and turned around on the other side and just looked at Parker. Parker tried again but as soon as his paws were in, he jumped around and then retreated to the shore. He began to howl at Sage and she again jumped in and swam back to him, and tried to coax him to swim across. He would not. This time Sage swam across, sat on the other side and just waited. He howled and would start in and retreat until he finally jumped in and did a masterful dog paddle to the other side. Once there, they jumped on each other and then bolted down the shore and kept running until they were out of sight. I had never seen anything like what I had just experienced, Sage working hard to help Parker cross the brook. It was utterly amazing and of course, once again, I did not have a video camera. We went back to fishing and a short time later, the dogs reappeared on the shore at the brook. I commented that we were going to see the earlier performance all over again and that is exactly what happened.  Sage again jumped in and crossed and then tried to get Parker to follow. He took the same position again and she crossed and tried to encourage him to come back with her.  Finally again after two crosses by Sage and all of the whining and posturing, he jumped in and crossed. Once on the other side, they jumped on each other with joy and off they ran. I watched them follow the shore of the lake, over blow downs and back toward the camp. As I reflected on what I had witnessed, it was very clear to me that dogs have a very unique way of getting their point across. Sage was determined to not leave Parker there. She was going to do whatever it took to get him across that brook so they could continue that adventure together. For her, no obstacle was too high or too great and she was going to do what it took to have her brother be with her.

When we returned to the camp, there was Parker and Sage on shore. They had made it back and were there to greet us. They had explored that side of the lake and the main thing was they had done it together thanks to Sage.

Parker is the black and white dog, and Sage is the brown and white dog.

Mr. Officer  #22

On Thursday, I attended a celebration of life mass for a man who I have fond memories of from my earlier years in Presque Isle. A man that took his responsibilities seriously, and at the same time had a great deal of compassion for those around him.

Harold Stewart, or “Bud” as he was known, was well known in Presque Isle. He had done just about everything in his lifetime. He served his country, not once but twice. He was a father, a grandfather and a champion for folks who needed him. Yes, Bud was a local attorney in Presque Isle. He dedicated his life to helping those in need. He was a tall man that could put fear in your heart just by looking at him, but as you got to know him, you found that much of that was just a mask of his true identity, a caring smart man just wanting to be your friend.

Now, you might ask why I am writing about Bud, when most of my blogs are about the outdoors. Well Bud enjoyed the outdoors and enjoyed fly fishing. But the memories I have of Bud are not about fly fishing, no, it was more along the lines of how I met him. As I sat listening to his son, Hal, talk about his father, I smiled as I recalled how I first met him and how the meetings would go time after time.

See, many years ago, thirty one to be exact, I was a law enforcement officer for the City of Presque Isle. I was new to the City having just moved here to take that position. As a greenhorn, you were always the one to bear the brunt of the jokes by the older officer, and I was no exception. I hadn’t been on the job for more than 3 months when I was called to court for my first trial. I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a traffic case where a guy had run a stop sign and I had ticketed him.  As the trial list came around, I noticed that he had pled not guilty and was being represented by Harold Stewart. At that time, I had no idea who Harold Stewart was. However, my fellow officers let me know that I was in for a rough time and to be very prepared as “Bud” would rip me to pieces once I got on the stand to testify. That rhetoric continued up until the day of trial. I showed up at the appointed time and took my place on the stand. The Assistant District Attorney walked me through the questions he had and then told the judge, who was Julian Turner, that he had no further questions of me. During my testimony and out of the corner of my eye, I had been watching this very tall dark haired man sitting at the defendants table. He had his glasses on the table and a yellow pad of paper in front of him. He had never looked up at me during my whole testimony, instead keeping his head down, while all the time seemingly writing on the pad. If you think, my fellow officers had prepped me to be afraid of him that was just an understatement of how I was feeling at that time. Judge Turner, then let it be known that it was time for cross examination and he said, Mr. Stewart, it is your witness. Bud did not move from his chair nor did he look at me for what felt like an eternity. Then all of a sudden, he picked up his glasses, rose from the table and walked over to where I was seated on the witness stand. With his glasses in hand, he began to ask me questions about what I had testified to. I was shaking all the while as he went through what felt like a long list of questions that I thought he had been writing down. As he approached the end of his questions, he stopped and said” Now Mr. Officer, he said this every time I had a trial with him. Do you expect the court to believe what you have told us? And do you want to stand on the testimony you have given this court today? My answer was Yesssss Sir. Then his final words were, do you know the penalty for perjury? Again, my answer was yes. He then backed up and gave me a very long stare with his dark eyes and looked at the judge and said, no further questions, your honor.

I had a hard time getting out of that chair, I was so scared. The judge dismissed me and I walked by Bud to where I was sitting. After the trial was over I left the court and was in the outer room, when Bud came walking out with a big smile on his face. He saw me and came right over and extended his hand to me saying you did a great job in there young fellow. I am proud of you. I have never forgotten those words to this day. What appeared to be a very tough, gruff man had taken the time to come see me and to tell me that I had done ok. From that day, on Bud and I met on a number of other cases and each time he used the same tactics as the first time I had met him. But it never had the same effect as the first time and I knew that after it was over, he would be my friend again.

I have watched his son, Hal; follow in his father footsteps, first working alongside his father as an attorney, and then taking over the family business. Hal is cut from the same cloth that his dad was and has a lot of the same qualities. In my mind, the legacy continues to live on.

May you rest in peace, Bud.

I Hear a Calling  #21

Each and every one of us hears a calling from time to time. We often take heed of that calling which helps us cope with our everyday routine. Fishermen are no different in that they know when it is time to pick up their rod and give it a go. Well, after two weeks without the woods or fishing, I heard that calling loud and clear. Maybe it was the loons darting under the water after fish and then coming up and letting their presence be known. Maybe it was the wind blowing its gentle breezes through the trees and moving the water so it slapped against the shore. And maybe, it was watching the animals moving gracefully, not caring if we were watching or nearby.

So, Friday, TC and I decided that we had been away long enough. It was time to head back in and try our hand at catching some fish. Our destination was going to be Ragged Mountain Pond in Piscataquis County. But first we had a few errands to run. I had heard that the fishing was not too good due to the hot weather we had been experiencing. Often, around this time of year, the weather is hot, the water heats up and the fish go down deep to stay cool. They might move around to feed, but chances are they are just too lazy and enjoy where they are parked.  

Our first stop was at Chandler Lake Camps to check in on Jason and Sherry. Jason was off doing what Jason does in the woods, but Sherry was there. We caught up on what had been happening and then decided to move on. It was now noon time and the sun was high in the sky. IT was over 80 degrees, and I knew the fishing was not going to be good, so TC and I decided to take a ride up to Churchill Dam. TC had never been there and I had a new appreciation for it having just finished a book entitled “Nine Mile Bridge” written by Helen Hamlin. The book detailed her time in the North Maine Woods, first as a teacher at Churchill Depot, and then as a wife of a Maine game warden, Curley Hamlin who was stationed at Umsaskis Lake. TC had not yet read it, but I thought that our visit might serve as a good backdrop for her when she did.

Our first stop at Churchill was the museum. I had not been there, but we really enjoyed seeing all the old implements that they used in the logging operations during that time. There were also many photos of the Depot and the people who made the area what it was. It was interesting to see Edward Lacroix and the others and I was really surprised to see a photo of Helen Hamlin and a brief synopsis of her book. I took TC around, visiting the dam, camping areas and the boat landing. We walked by the old boarding home, and then had a nice lunch while we listened to the water rushing through the dam. Once we had taken in all of the sites, we decided to stop one more time at the museum to check on something. When we did, we met up with Ranger Ed who was working there. We talked for a few minutes and I asked him if there was any way we could get to see the inside of the old boarding home. He finally said he would take us in, but it had to be quick. As he unlocked the door and we walked in, I felt like we went back in time to when the Depot was a booming bustling town. As we entered, we immediately saw the post office where all the mail came and went. We then went upstairs and saw the room where the people would stay. I learned that the boarding home was sectioned off into two areas. Upstairs on the left, were the rooms and on the other side of the building upstairs was a very large room where the men bunked all together. Ranger Ed pointed to the walls all around the room and asked us to look at the small dark spots approx. one foot apart, all at the same height. He told us that those spots were where the loggers slept and there head laid up against the wall. The spot was the grease on their hair that had left a lasting impression on the wall. It was unbelievable.  He then took us downstairs to where they used to eat. He pointed out a trap door in the floor and told us that was where the cooks used to throw the leftover food to the pigs that were underneath the camp. Time seemed to pass so fast, and as quickly as we entered, it was time for us to leave and Ranger Ed to go back to work. We said our good byes and thanked him for what was a very memorable trip back in time. He told us that at one point, a group had decided to restore the old boarding home and had shored it up. But, for some reason, they stopped and the renovation came to a halt. It was sad to think that this historic landmark may fall to the same fate that many other building up there did. I just wish there was something I could do to help get the project back on track and see it to completion.

We left Churchill Dam and headed back to our pond. Once there, we unloaded the boat and put on the water. I knew we were in trouble when I started my fish finder and it registered a hot 80 degree water temperature.  We fished for a while, but it was clear that we were not going to have any luck this day.

As we drove out, the conversation seemed to center around the day we had at Churchill Dam and what we had seen. I was elated to have been able to take a tour of the old boarding house. All of the reading I have done about it had only set the stage for what was a very memorable ten minutes. As I got closer to home, I thought to myself, maybe the calling was not for fishing this day. Maybe the plan all along had been to spend some time at the dam and have the pleasure of seeing the inside of the boarding home. For me, that was a calling I was glad to have listened too.