This is the journal of
Eleazer Peabody. Nearly his entire life has been spent in the outdoors
of Maine. He recalls many of his adventures from his childhood up until
the present.
If you would like to comment on any of
Eleazer's writings, you may email him at
eleazer@maineoutdoorstoday.com
Journal Entries
Just Smelting
Away
The days are quite nice with just a little
chill at night. The lakes down country are opening up, and the brooks
are roaring with snow melt. Fishing seasons is just around the corner.
Smelt runs will be beginning here very soon!
Sweet Success....
The days are getting longer, and the
sounds of birds returning from their southern haunts certainly brighten
each day. The cool nights and sunny days bring the maple sap to peak
flow. This season Margie and I bottled up just over eight gallons of the
liquid gold…
Flying
Ghosts....
Margie had a cold for the last couple of
days, so she decided to stay home and keep the fire, while I ventured
off to West Paris for the installation of some of their new officers. I
had old “Molly” warmed up by the time I had bounced along through the
drifts at the end of Hick’s Pond. The road down to Britton’s Bridge was
quite well packed and easy to keep in the road. From the bridge across
Hawkin’s Flat was another matter! I had enough speed to plow through
most of the drifts, but I had to shovel through one small drift just
before “Christmas Tree” Charlie’s house.
Up To
My Chin
I happened to meet an old friend, Lewis
“Proc” Proctor, at the Co-op store on Monday. I was over to West Paris
to get some feed grain for my heifers, when Proc tapped me on the
shoulder. He was off work from the railroad for three weeks, and needed
some excitement.
Talk of
the Town...
I wouldn’t want to be racing out the door,
naked as a chicken’s egg, and run smack into someone coming down the
path for their turn at the sauna. They may be as embarrassed as I
A Hissin' Fit
The sound
started as a low grumbling and trailed off into a higher pitched hiss. I
stopped my chore and turned sharply to look into a dark corner of the
ell. At first my eyes, tearing by the cold air, couldn’t pick out any
detail...
Damn Near to
Death
The air on
my cheek felt like it was just slapped by a cold hand, but the
brightness of the moon and stars let me forget this first smack of the
frosty night. I tramped out into the yard with my boots squeaking on the
cold snow with every step....
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