Wood River

Up at the Wickaboxet Farms

There stands the Wickaboxet Lodge

And ‘cross the road from this old inn

Lies lily padded Hazard Pond

And from this pond a stream does flow

Known as Falls River on our maps.

It crosses Liberty Hill Road

And flows just right, not fast, not slow.

But when it reaches Step Stone Falls

It there becomes a noisy stream

It roars and tears along, then makes

A frenzied, frothy downhill plunge

Thru rocks and logs, then starts to slow

With darkened eddies here and there

That hide in back of rocks or logs

And make great hideaways for trout.

But soon it meets with Breakheart Brook

And these two waters do combine

To form a larger, slower stream

We call Wood River, and it flows

From Exeter, where it begins

Thru miles of wooded land it runs

Twisting, turning as rivers will

Until it meets the Pawcatuck.

            -2-

Now there’s another pond I know

Off to the east of Falls River

This pond is known as Breakheart Pond

And from it flows the Breakheart Brook.

‘Twas here I learned to fish for trout

Taught to me by an older friend

Who often fished the stream alone

But wanted company that day.

I must have been about fifteen

When first I saw this wondrous stream

And learned my casting rod was not

The best for catching wary trout.

Get a fly rod, he said to me

And then you can stand out of sight.

It lets you float your bait downstream

To catch those trout behind the rocks.

And so I took him at his word,

I bought a fly rod as he said

Then got a fly reel with fly line

Along with net and wooden creel.

And then I learned the way to fish

And ever since that time of old

I’ve fished the Breakheart all the way

Until it met that other stream

And as Wood River now is known.

            -3-

These are the trout streams that I loved

All in the town of Exeter

And these, Beach Pond and Escoheag,

Are where my summer days were spent

And later on as I grew up

I’d be found on Breakheart Brook

Fishing, often by myself,

For fishing is a way of peace.

Or maybe on Falls River where

I’d find a quiet place to fish

Then let a fly with current drift

A silver doctor or a black gnat

Until I saw the swirling rise

That bigger trout would often make

When taking flies they thought were real

They mostly ended in my net.

But then some days I’d move around

And try Wood River for a change

For here there was a tangle thick

Of trees blown down in thirty-eight

A hurricane that left a mess

But to the trout was heaven sent

For now they’d hide most anywhere

And let the fisherman beware.

            -4-

For often in late afternoon

And when the sun was getting low

I’d go across the Ten Rod Road

And slip into Wood River, where

The tangle left by hurricane

Had then become a paradise

For trout that hid beneath the logs

Of trees blown over in the past.

It’s not the fishing that I liked

For logs and brush so tangled up

Leave little room to drop a fly

And then it must be done with care

So trout won’t see from whence it came

And fish thus hooked will always try

To tangle line around a log

Before the net has brought them in.

This type of fishing’s difficult

And climbing over logs a chore

For though the trout are always there

The logs and brush are oft’ too much

And only those who love to fish

Will take the time and effort make

To reach infrequent open spots

Where it’s a joy just to be there.

            -5-

So time did pass, I took a wife

And though I did not fish as much

I usually did make the first day

But that was just a hassle too

For good fishing would never start

Until Mayflies began their hatch

But then ‘twas difficult for me

To fish, for I had growing kids.

I stayed at home until the kids

Were grown enough so we could take

Them out to picnic at a spot

On Falls River where they could watch

As dad once more tried fly casting

So in I went, then waded down

And while they watched, I’d take a trout

Much to their joy and my delight.

And when my boys were old enough

I’d take them out to camp with me

We’d eat a meal near Step Stone Falls

Then drift down to the stream to see

If anyone was fishing there

Then back again to spend the night

In Beach Pond Park, where whip-poor-wills

And crickets put us all to sleep.

            -6-

I love the memories of these streams

Of fishing them in spring and fall

Of using worms when just a boy

But when I grew to manhood then

I’d try the many flies I had

Until I found the one trout liked

Then I’d fish ‘til the sun went down

And then just watched as darkness neared.

Now in my elder years I wish

My boys had found that same desire

To take up fishing as a way

To find that inner peace we seek

By watching sunsets in the west

And listening to the evening birds

And all the sounds of coming night

Thus coming closer to their god.

Pool at Wood River

 

Beach Pond

Way down in old Connecticut

And partly in Rhode Island too

Lies a peaceful, quiet lake that

Those who camped there remember still

As just Beach Pond, though pond it’s not.

‘Tis three miles long and half as wide

With pines and hemlock all around

Its giant rocks and pad-filled coves.

This lake I’ve been to since a child

Where parents pitched a tent to dwell

With children on a sandy shore

But got rained out and so we spent

Most of our time inside the tent

And nearly drove our parents wild

And all the fishing plans we had

Went by the board, so we went home.

Since then my parents often went

Back to this lake but did not tent

For cottages were there to rent

And one of these would be our home.

No fear of rain or other ails,

We’d fish for bass in daylight hours

Or spend the night out on the lake

Just catching horned pout for the morn.

            -2-

And once we set forth on the trail

And walked for miles to Escoheag

Then ‘round the road past Tippecan

Until we cut the trail again.

Then descended until we came

Back to the cottage and the pond.

And swam to clear the dust and grime

‘Til mother called “it’s supper time.”

These are the memories I have

Of Beach Pond days now in the past,

Of swimming, fishing, sailing too

Wherever Green or Briggs girls came

And took us out on their swift boat.

We’d sail and tack, then sail some more

And after many hours of fun

Would once again come back to shore.

The summer next was ‘forty-one

The cottage rented in advance,

 But each of us had grown a lot

And wanted friends to join our fun.

Too many came, there was no room

So Larry, my best friend, and I

Just put our things in my canoe

And paddled down near Pine Tree Point.

            -3-

It’s there we stayed, in the same spot

Where rain had devastated plans

My parents had for all us kids,

Who now were safe from heavy storms.

Same parents who had left their kids

Had gone back home, and then returned

With tent and poles and other things

We would need as we camped alone.

We raised the tent, and stowed our gear

Then went to sleep out on the lake.

We settled down under the seats

He at the bow, I at the stern

And deeply slept, mosquito free.

We’d wake, and oft as not would find

A fog so thick we knew not where

We were, and so went back to sleep.

When we awoke, the fog was slight

With sun and warmth just burning thru

Sometimes we’d drift close in to shore

While often we’d be near the end.

But where we went it mattered not

For we could always paddle back

To eat our breakfast, have a swim

As naked as the day we’re born.

            -4-

The time was short, it went by fast.

We’d hardly used the tent, but spent

Our nights out sleeping on the lake.

But often as the nights came on

The lake would still, and moon would rise

And we, like most amorous youth

Would ask the older girls if they

Would like to paddle ‘round the lake.

My father once did question me

And asked me what was my intent

When I had asked my sister’s friend

To take a ride in my canoe

When Patty, for that was her name,

Intervened, and told my dad

That she was sure that I’d behave,

She’d known me for so many years.

            -5-

And so I asked her out that night

But saw her in a different light

No longer little sister she

But one who'd found maturity

Who had developed graceful ways

And with a smile that now did say

That she no longer saw in me

The brother figure of the past.

Now in those days the best canoes

Had four long pillows with backrest too

And for this purpose were designed

To give sheer comfort to a girl.

So when my Pat was covered well

With blankets hiding chilly legs

I knelt and paddled toward the rock

That loomed so bright on yonder shore.

            -6-

We paddled southward for a while

And then turned west, so Pat could see

The rising moon, so full and round

Pat Paulson's graduation picture, June 1944

That spilled its light out on the pond.

We moved along more slowly now

With just a hint of light gray mist

That touched the surface here and there

As wraiths upon a surface still.

No words were said, for she and I

Would not disrupt the beauty of

This night. While somewhere off along

The shore, a whip-poor-will did call,

And broke the spell of quietness

That seemed to hover over all.

And when the quiet was disturbed

‘Twas then that I began to sing.

I sang to her so quietly

That only she could hear and know

The song, though using different names,

Was meant for her, and only her.

I sang a song so often heard

Of “How I loved the kisses of

Dolores,” but changed the name and

Sang “Patricia” to her instead.

            -7-

These were the words I sang to her

And when I’d sung this made up song

She murmured back, “How would you know?”

I looked at her and then I asked

If it was time that we should kiss.

She nodded, and with paddle in

I leaned toward her, both hands on thwarts.

We met halfway, our lips did touch

And as we kissed, a long sweet kiss,

We did not touch, except our lips

Yet never gentler did I feel

Than toward this girl before me now.

I’d meant to lie down by her side

And hold her softly in my arms

But passion started welling up

So I leaned back and paddled on.

Most men, less tactful, would have tried

To take the innocence from her,

But she had stated to my dad

That she had trust and faith in me,

And I had stated to him, too,

That I would show respect to her.

And so I paddled her back home

And went back to the tent to sleep.

            -8-

I guess that here I should explain

Why Pat and I did not pursue

That tender sweetness that was ours

The love we’d found in early life.

My dad was wise in all his ways

And now he took me to one side

And spoke to me as man to man

About Patricia and our love.

Of all the girls that I have seen

She is the one for you, by far.

She loves to roam the woods and trails

With me alone or all of us.

A daughter she has been to me,

Who listened well when e’er I read

A story, or a poem to all

And always was so close to you.

But in your love there is a catch,

She is Catholic – you are not.

And marriage of two different faiths

Generally does not work well,

Unless you’re willing for your kids

To be raised as Catholics, too.

So that’s the problem facing you

And caution now I do advise.

            -9-

We saw each other after that

At home, at school, yet did not date

And together were often joined

When she and I were both alone

With neither having dates that night

Yet were a part of larger groups.

So we reverted to our roles

As brother, sister once again.

Roles that neither cared much for,

And though the wisdom of this stance

That mixed marriages often fail

Was clearly seen by she and I,

We knew our dreams could never be.

And so she wed an army friend

But still remained so close to me

With Beach Pond memories intact.

            -10-

The year was nineteen forty-two

We’re out of school and summer’s here

Larry and I lay on our grass

And watched the stars, our thoughts out loud.

How quiet this night of stars would be

If we could watch while floating free

Upon the waters of Beach Pond.

“Let’s camp,” I said. “Let’s go,” said he.

And so we packed our camping gear

With high school past and service near

To spend the summer of forty-two

Upon the lake we loved so well.

His mother’s car we loaded up

And putting my canoe on top,

Put in the tent with poles and pegs

With fishing rods and paddles, too.

We said goodbye to family

And headed out away from town

His mother driving while we spoke

Of when she’d come to pick us up.

We made the journey to the lake

And parked the car close to the bridge,

Then loaded my canoe with gear

And headed out across the lake.

            -11-

We had about a mile to go

He at the bow and I the stern

We crossed thru afternoon’s mild chop -

The breeze was coming from the west.

But even with our Old Town low

We made good time, and soon put in

To that hidden sandy cove
Where we had camped a year ago.

We unloaded our gear at once

And set to work upon the tent

Then after that we built a fire

For suppertime was drawing near.

We ate and then went for a swim

Then after worked upon our beds -

Well off the ground our bunks must be

In case of rain or creeping things.

The rest we left until the morn

And put it either in the tent

Or ‘neath the overturned canoe,

Then watched the fire ‘til coals turned dark

And heard the sounds of night begin,

Mainly crickets and whip-poor-wills.

Thus as we climbed into our beds

We sighed and knew our dreams were true.

            -12-

Now Larry was a baritone

Who had a strong and well-trained voice.

He often sang around the camp

Or hummed while daily chores were done.

But when at night and lake was still

He’d raise his voice and sing a song

And hoped that someone ‘cross the lake

Would hear and ask, “Who sings like that?”

And so one night he sang his song

“In the Still of the Night,” I think,

But when another verse was due,

That verse came back from o’er the lake.

We were startled to say the least

That someone heard, a baritone

Who knew the songs that Larry knew

And sent his voice across the deep.

We hurried into our canoe

And crossed the lake in record time.

With Larry singing now and then,

And with the unknown baritone,

They filled the night with many songs

Of Nelson Eddy’s repertoire

Paired with Jeannette McDonald’s voice,

A pair that none could ever best.

            -13-

As we got close, we heard a voice

That called for us to come on in.

We did and met our baritone,

The father of these goodly folks.

And after all were introduced

We went into their cottage home,

And while a daughter played the tunes

We sang and sang, in harmony.

When all were tired, we said goodnight

And slowly plied our way across.

We knew we’d met a wondrous group

Of people, all who liked to sing

And harmonize when e’er they could.

And after crossing we did swim

Then made our way to bed, and slept

Uninterrupted ‘til the dawn.

And so the days did pass us by

We fished, we swam, or simply loafed.

We’d gotten tanned, and I mean dark

With bacon fat rubbed on our backs.

We picked a lot of blueberries

To make the slumps which Larry loved

And oft’ we’d simply paddle ‘round

The lake to gaze upon its shores.

            -14-

And as we paddled ‘round the lake

We noted bluffs and giant rocks

With sandy beaches interspersed,

With hemlock growing near the shore

And quite close to our camping place

Were ledge-like rocks where we could dive

And so we found our swimming spot

With water deep and oh so clear.

And here it was we saw the girls

Perched on rocks not too far out.

Dropped off while father went to fish

And they were left to tan a bit.

Larry whispered, “I dare you to

Swim out there to see if they

Would like to join us here to swim

Until their dad returns for them.”

And never passing up a dare,

I swam to them and let them know

Who I was and what we proposed.

One was younger, her name was Joan;

The older simply beautiful,

With tanned up skin, and long dark hair.

“I am Paula – Paula Ballou,

And we must stay ‘til dad returns.”

            -15-

And so I stayed and talked with them

And soon I learned that she was proud

To be a majorette at school

And would be here for one more week.

Would I be here that length of time?

“Yes,” I stated, “and would you care

To see the lake when evening comes?”

Yes, she answered, that would be fine.

I did not know her very long,

Perhaps an hour, or less I’d say,

And yet we got along so well

That we could end up as a pair

And so she did not hesitate

To answer yes, when I proposed

To see her early Monday eve.

And so I swam back to the rock

To find a Briggs boy waiting there

With a message from my mom

That said my dad was very ill,

That I should come immediately.

I left with nothing on my back

And hitched a ride to Providence

And soon was back to my own home.

            -16-

I entered and went up the stairs

To my father’s room, where he lay

So pale yet happy I was there

For dad and I were very close.

He said to me, “I’m glad you’re here,

But go back soon and stay your time.

I’m sure I’ll last 'til you get home

Then we can talk of what’s ahead.”

I stayed two days, then headed back

That’s what my father said to do.

I went by bus to Hope Valley

Then hitched my way up to the lake

And did the last four miles on foot.

I got back in time to see the

Bacon Larry put in a pan

And with my help mixed pancake dough.

We ate, then swam to get cleaned up

I dressed in jeans and clean white shirt

Then placing backrest against the thwart

I put in pillows and blankets too.

Then telling Larry I’d be late

I shoved off quickly from the shore,

Slid quietly toward setting sun

And headed down to Paula’s home.

            -17-

I reached the sauna at her home

Where all her family did wait

To see this boy who was to take

Their daughter out upon the lake.

I docked, with introductions made

Her father, mother, brother too,

Her sister Joan, the one I knew,

Then father said, “Don’t be too late.”

And after we were settled in

We waved goodbye and moved away

From setting sun, and toward the east

Where moon was rising o’er the hills.

We paddled quietly at first

Then spoke a little of my dad

Who had insisted I come back

To take this girl out on the lake.

Then after talking for a while

And slowly paddling up the lake,

We listened to the evening sounds

The lonesome calling of the loons,

The whip-poor-wills whose songs were low

But carried well, to fill our hearts

With quiet longing we both felt

To be together here, and so.

            -18-

I slowly brought the paddle in

And moving forward to her side

I turned and lay beside her, then

I placed my arm around her back.

Her head she rested on my chest

And thus we lay with hands entwined

Saying nothing yet we knew

That love had come to each of us.

We lay that way for quite some time

She with her thoughts and I with mine

And watched the climbing moon that shone

Upon the stillness of the lake.

We spoke at last, and wondered how

We seemed so natural as a pair

As though we’d known each other years

When overall it was just hours.

‘Twas then we turned, came face to face

And knew our love was meant to be.

I kissed her forehead, hair, and cheek

While she just waited there for me

To take her in my warm embrace

And for the first time kiss those lips.

I did, and ‘til the day I die,

I will remember that first kiss.

            -19-

We stayed out there upon the lake

And drifted with the slightest breeze

Until the great horned owl’s hoot

Reminded us that it was late.

And so, I once again began

To paddle, past our silent camp

Past Pine Tree Point, and past our rock

Until we came again to home.

I held her tight before she left

And said I’d come in two more nights -

I’ll wait, she said, no matter what -

Then I kissed her a final time

And watched until she closed the door

Then left, and with my thoughts on her

I paddled back to darkened camp

And finally to bed I went.

The sun arose, the day went past

And though we swam, and fished, and tanned

My thoughts of Paula always seemed

To turn me from the work at hand

And then to get my thoughts on track

We decided we ought to fish

The open pools at Tippecan

Where dad had told me fish were huge.

            -20-

The next day, though, we did sleep late

But rising we did swim, and ate

Then shouldering our good canoe

We started up the trail to fish

The backwoods pond of Tippecan

Where lily pads and reeds abound

With open water here and there

Permitting space for our canoe.

We fished for perch at first to get

Their yellow bellies that were great

For catching pickerel when cast

And wiggled back, so like a fish.

Larry paddled and I fished first.

I cast the bait and watched it fall

Just short of lily pads and then

I let it sink, then did retrieve.

Nothing happened for a while

Then on another cast, I felt

The strike, then let him chew the bait.

And when I saw the line begin

To move, I knew he had it well,

So set the hook, then fought as I

Had never fought a fish before

That he was big, was all I knew.

            -21-

He headed for the lily pads

‘Twas all that I could do to keep

That fish away, and in the clear.

The rod was bent in a great arc

And though Larry sculled so hard

The fish still pulled the boat around

And headed for the depths to sulk.

He did not leap, for pickerel don’t

Nor the steel leader could he cut

He just stayed deep, but gradually

He began to tire, and finally

He surfaced and we netted him.

His length was twenty-four inches

Just two feet, that up to then, was

The biggest fish I’d ever caught.

Now it was Larry’s turn to fish

And so we traded end for end

I got the paddle, he the pole

I sculled until the boat was set.

He fixed his bait and made his cast

And to our surprise he got a strike

In the same spot where mine had hit

What followed then, had gone before.

            -22-

And finally when in the boat

He measured just the same as mine

That was more fish than we could eat

And so we packed up all our gear

But stopped to watch two otters play

Romping near the swampy shore

Oblivious that they were seen

Ted with both fish

By humans who so rarely came.

And so we left, for the hike back

But first took pictures of our fish

So people in a future time

Would know our fishing tales were true.

We left and took the fire break back

The trail that runs between the states.

It was a chore in getting up

And over rocks that blocked our way.

But once we’d gotten our canoe

Up and over this high crest

We made much better time and so

Reached our camp ‘ere sun did set.

We swam again before we ate

Then had one fish, which was enough

And so we put the second out

Where foxes could eat to their content.

            -23-

The mosquitoes were thick that night

So we slept out upon the lake

Waking early, then paddling in

To take our usual morning swim.

Then had a sumptuous morning meal

Of flapjacks, bacon and cocoa.

We watched the sun rise in the east

And were ready to start our day.

It was that night that I would see

My Paula at her lakeside home

So Larry planned on dropping me

At her place while he crossed the lake

To visit with the folks we’d met

Who liked to sing as well as he.

And so with plans made for the night

We spent the day just resting up.

The day passed slowly, at least for me

And shadows lengthened gradually.

At last we ate, then took a swim

To get cleaned up before we left,

He off to sing, and I to see

That girl I’d come to love so well.

He took the stern, and I the bow

So each could go his separate way.

            -24-

The night was cool as we approached

The landing where I soon would meet

The girl I had been pining for.

The sun was way down in the west

The moon just rising in the east

The whip-poor-wills began their calls

As we came in to dock and saw

Her standing on the sauna deck.

We moved the boat into the dock

I took my coat and rifle too

For I must make the trek that night

Back to the camp on trails unknown.

I gave the boat a shove, then turned

And climbed the steps to Paula’s side.

She turned and came into my arms

And then I knew she loved me too.

We stood a while, before we kissed,

Her arms were tight around my neck

Her cheek was nuzzled to my chest

While I in turn just held her tight.

I stroked her beautiful long hair

Then tipped her face up for my kiss,

I kissed her then, so hard and long

And knew she understood my love.

            -25-

We were alone, so arm in arm

We sat upon the glider swing

And watched the moon which rising high

Was casting shadows o’er the lake.

We talked of what our future held

As she went back to school, and I

Worked ‘til I had reached an age to

Select a service of my choice.

We talked then held each other tight

And kissed each other in between

Then talked some more, until her dad

Did call and say the hour was late,

She should come in and very soon.

And so I walked her to her door

Embraced her in our final hug

There on the shores of our Beach Pond.

She slowly climbed the cottage steps

And paused to look at me once more

Then disappeared into the house

And left me standing there alone.

I stood a moment ‘fore I left

Then donned my jacket for ‘twas cool

And slinging rifle ‘cross my back

I made my way back toward our camp.

            -26-

Thru woods I went, then by the trail

What light there was, was from the moon

Which cast long shadows on my way

And caused me to watch warily

Until I came out in the field

Where we had picked our blueberries

And thus returned once more to camp
To find my friend was fast asleep.

We had a day before we left

But Paula’s family did go

That morning. So the two of us

Just did the things we came to do

We swam, we fished, we loafed around

And waited ‘til the sun went down

Then out we went in our canoe

To sleep our last night on the lake.

When we awoke and paddled in

We ate, then went in for a swim

Our last in quite a while we felt

Not knowing what the future held.

We packed our gear, knocked down the tent

Then packed it all in our canoe

And paddled slowly ‘cross the lake

To meet his mother, then depart.

            -27-

That was the last that we would see

This lake we loved, and carefree days

Until our service years were done

And we returned to its fond shores.

That summer was the best of times

I’d found a girl I loved so well,

That fall would be the worst of times

I lost a dad so dear to me.

But time goes on and years go by

And Paula’s gone far to the west

Although we managed four good years.

She finally wed, and I did too.

We often bring our children here

To wash off salt from Moonstone Beach

Then run and play in all the sand

In this my lake, my old Beach Pond.

The Ten Mile River

A long time past when I was young

I got to know a river well,

‘Twas called the Ten Mile River and

It ran from the Old Central Pond

Down through Rumford and to Hunts Mills

From where our drinking water came,

And then through our old swimming holes

To end up in Omega Pond.

‘Twas ten miles long, that’s what they said

And often when my dad and I

Would walk along its brushy banks

To fish, then I believed it was

The length they said, and maybe more.

The water ran so slow and deep

But just two rapids come to mind

One at Hunts Mills, one at Cole’s Bridge.

It was a place where we would see

The signs that muskrats often left

Fresh water clamshells on the bank

Gave evidence that they would eat

Most anything that they could reach.

And often saw the grass they pulled

Into their holes for living so

Their young would have a cozy nest.

                        -2-

And so we grew, and loved to swim,

For as hot summer days grew long

We went down to our swimming holes:

The Ledge, which was one huge flat rock

Where mostly boys from Seekonk swam;

And down the river just a way

Was the Sandy, and it was here

That all of us had learned to swim.

But still the one most used by far

Was the Mudhole with tree so tall

That overhung the river’s depths

So boys could climb and dive at will

With no fear that their heads or hands

Would strike the bottom and get scraped.

And so we dove or cannon balled

As fast as we could climb that tree.

How many times did we set out

When after all our chores were done

We headed north on Irving Ave.

Then cut across through Barney’s lot

Past Patty’s on Pawtucket Ave.

Then through the gate at Agawum

To skirt the golf course till we met

The trail that led to the Mudhole.

                        -3-

And there we’d swim the day away

Without a thought for missing lunch

Until we saw the sun was at

A point where we must head for home.

So back we went, the way we came

And always got there just in time

To hear our mother’s clear, strong voice

A call that supper would be soon.

But as the summer days did wane

Our swimming slowed down quite a bit

Then stopped as we went back to school

And we were left with memories of

Days without a single care that

Belonged to us for near three months.

And so we studied through the year

Thought perfect pupils we were not.

But ‘ere the summer came again

I bought my first Old Town canoe

From a boat house near river’s end

That was shutting done for good.

They had just two canoes unsold

One brand new – in perfect shape;

The other nice, but with a hole

Up in the bow that could be fixed.

                        -4-

The price for one canoe was high

Much more than I could then afford.

The other though, with gaping hole,

Could be had for a lesser sum.

Twenty dollars I paid to them

And with a friend, who willingly

Turned the boat and on shoulders strong

Off we went back to my home.

We placed it on two saw horses

And went to work immediately

We sanded all the inside ribs

Then used puttied wood for the hole.

When dried we shaped it to the ribs

And planking till we could not tell

Where hole began and what was real

The outside then was sanded clean.

Some final touches did we make

By gluing silk over the hole.

The inside then was varnished well

Including seats, both newly caned.

And then we finished up the work

By putting on three types of paint

Thus camouflaging my canoe

With green and grey and brown and black.

                        -5-

We let it set ‘til all was dry

And was inspected by my dad,

Who once his own canoe had owned

A St. Laurence of shorter length.

And on the Ten Mile River too

He fished and swam as we did now

And took my mother for a ride

Up the river in his canoe.

When we were done refurbishing

This canoe did look as though it

Had just come down from Old Town, Maine.

It was a beauty to behold.

At age fourteen, I was so proud

I owned a rifle and this boat.

None given, all earned by my sweat

A feat in those depression times.

When done we carried my canoe

To the river to try it out.

It handled as an Old Town should.

And soon we learned just how to kneel,

To tilt the boat on tumblehome

And bring the gun’le down until

It almost touched the water, then

We could paddle so easily.

                        -6-

I kept my boat in the backyard

Of a friend who by the river lived.

And from then on when we would swim

Up the river in my canoe

With a spinner out behind, we

Paddled and fished all at one time

And often caught a pickerel

Before we reached the swimming hole.

As fall days came, and summer left

We thought about what we could do:

Should we hunt ducks, or trap muskrats

Now that we had this fine canoe.

I asked my dad and his reply

Was that good shotguns cost too much

But for a start, some Victor traps

Might let us start a trap line now.

So for a start two traps we bought

For that is all we could afford.

My father gave us instructions

In how to handle such a trap,

So that fingers did not get caught,

Of how to use an apple lure

And how to stake the line out deep

So that the rat would quickly drown.

                        -7-

But then he cautioned that we wait

Until the time for trapping came

And get a hunting license first

For that also permits our traps.

And so we did the things we must

And when November did arrive

We went on foot just after dark

To the river to set our traps.

My dad did set the first for us

To show us how we should proceed.

He set the trap four inches deep

Then ran the chain out on a stake,

With a piece of apple for the bait,

Angled on a slender stick that

Was set a foot above the trap.

We moved upriver a short way

To reach the Sandy swimming hole,

And here we set our second trap

Just as my dad had shown us how.

And so we headed back to home

To wait for morning’s early light.

Larry met me at five o’clock

And so we went to check our traps.

                        -8-

We took a shortcut to Sandy first

And here we found our trap intact.

Not a thing had touched the bait

And so we pulled up trap and stake,

And moved downstream to our first trap.

There the bait and trap were missing.

And when we pulled the stake back out,

We found a muskrat neatly drowned.

This may sound cruel now-a-days

But this was in depression times

And what we had was not enough

But muskrat fur was in demand.

So after dad had shown us how

To skin and stretch a muskrat hide,

We purchased ten more traps to start

Our first trapline in my canoe.

We always stayed above Cole’s Bridge

And left the river down below

To others who might want to trap;

And in that way we stayed at peace.

But soon the weather turned too cold

To paddle or to just get wet,

And so we ended our careers

As trappers, for another year.

                        -9-

We packed our muskrats when they dried

Along with two good skunks we’d caught

And sent them down to Sears-Roebuck

In Philadelphia where they

Would always pay a higher price

Than any buyers locally.

And so for twenty rats plus skunks

Ninety dollars was our reward.

And so our traps were put away

To wait until November days.

We did the things that students do:

Went to dances, to plays and games

And often even tried our best

To study hard before a test

And just awaited for the time

When summer rolled around again.

At last it came, and with a whoop

We left our school with all its books

Then thought a bit of what we’d do

And always reached the same result:

That we’d do what we always did

And that was work, then fish and swim.

We worked to help our parents out,

Then fished and swam on our days off.

                        -10-

The weekends were the best we had

And so we left on Friday nights

And paddled our Old Town canoe

Up the river, or sometimes down,

Looking for bullfrogs’ eyes which

We would plunk with the twenty two.

And when we thought we had enough

We’d build a fire and eat their legs.

But often as we paddled ‘round,

We’d see upon this old dead log

A great big snapping turtle lay

Just taking in the noonday sun.

And so we set about to catch

This turtle, then to make a soup,

It having seven types of meat

And which we heard was very good.

And so we took a length of line

Our strongest and just long enough;

A steel leader and largest hook

Were next attached, and then the head

Of a fish we’d caught, the big hook

Fastened out of sight. This we dropped

Till current caught and carried deep

And there it stayed throughout the night.

                        -11-

The next day we did ply our way

Up the river and to the spot

Where we had set our line and bait.

And sure enough we found we’d caught

That snapper, and a fight we had

To get him into our canoe.

So when our day was finally done,

We lugged him home to make our soup.

My dad was pleased when he did see

This snapping turtle’s size and said:

“He’ll make a soup beyond compare

And I will show you how to start.”

He put a stick up to its nose

That turtle reached and snapped the stick

And dad with sharp axe held up high

Did clean that turtle’s head so neat.

Thus into mother’s biggest pot

With water boiling did he go

Until we deemed that turtle done,

So took him out and pulled him hard

And out of shell he came so neat.

Then we did skin and clean him out

Then cut him up, and in the pot

While mother added things soups need.

                        -12-

We had that night our turtle soup

And it was good as it could be.

We tasted all the different parts

And swore as others had before

That part was chicken, part was beef,

Part could be fish, some parts unknown,

Which must be turtle, yet was good.

And to this day, we have his shell.

And when that episode was done

And turtle soup became a norm

We decided that we would spend

A night on old Omega Pond,

For we had never spent a night

Out on the deep in my canoe.

We got from parents their consent

And down the river did we go.

We fished a while to no avail

Then watched the setting sun go down.

We heard some ducks come whistling in

To land quite near and up ahead

But swam off as we glided near.

We heard a muskrat splash nearby

Then caught the croak of a bullfrog,

Which told us night was coming on.

                        -13-

‘Twas dark that night, there was no moon

And so we paddled quietly

Out to the middle of the pond

And for our supper we did eat

Some chocolate bars of bittersweet

That never did agree with me

And to this day I cannot touch

Dark chocolate of any kind.

The night came on, the water still

So we unrolled our sleeping bags.

Beneath the seats and thwarts we slept,

He in the bow, and I the stern.

And never once did we awake

Until the dawn broke o’er the trees.

Then we rolled up sleeping bags

And paddled quickly to the shore.

We swam to get the sleep from eyes

Then wondered what we’d have to eat.

Fish were there but must be caught

And so while Larry gathered wood

I quickly caught some pumpkin seeds.

We skinned them out, then fried them well.

They tasted great to hungry boys

Who ate them up in nothing flat.

                        -14-

After eating we packed our gear

And paddled up the river where

We stored away the old canoe

Until we wanted it in fall.

Then went on foot back to our house,

Were greeted by our parents, who

Breathed anxious sighs with some relief

For we were back without a scratch.

So back to school again we went

But this time in our junior year

And when October’s end came near

We planned on having all our traps

Set after midnight on the first.

But Larry had a dance that night;

He could not leave the girl at home

And so I planned to go alone.

We brought the boat up to a spot

Where I could find it in the dark

And loaded it with traps and stakes,

With waders, flashlights, apples too.

Then we agreed we’d meet at two,

Sometime after the dance was done.

So he took off to get his girl,

While I went to the river bank.

                        -15-

The night was dark, the river damp

But I was warm in winter clothes

And when the time was close at hand,

I moved the boat, so carefully

Into the river did we go.’

And I commenced to paddle up

As far as I could go then turned

To drift while setting out the traps.

I knew the river very well.

Its twists and turns, I knew by heart.

I had no trouble drifting down

And setting traps along the way.

I set in holes without the bait

And set on banks with apple o’er

Until I’d set out all the traps,

Then turned around and paddled back.

It now was very close to two

And so I did not check the traps,

But glided straight back to the spot

Where we agreed that we would meet.

He met me there and climbed right in

And took the bow and I the stern,

And paddled up where I’d begun,

Then drifted down to check the traps.

                        -16-

We drifted slowly as we went

Using flashlights only at

The places where the traps were set

And where we found we’d caught a rat.

Then we’d reset and paddle on

And by the time we reached the end

Fourteen muskrats were in the boat,

So we turned and back we went.

We kept this up until the dawn,

Moving upstream in total dark,

Then drifting down our traps to check

And by the time our last trip came,

By total we caught nineteen ‘rats.

And so we finished for the night.

We pulled up all the traps and stakes

And left no sigh that we were there.

We hid the boat in the same spot

And taking all the gear in bags,

Hiked back home to leave our things

Then back again for the canoe.

And paddled down the river where

We put the boat back on its racks.

Then headed home to start the chore

To skin and flesh and stretch the rats.

                        -17-

It took us most of Saturday

To get the rats in selling shape

And as I watched our Airedale Pal

Eating up the rats’ hind legs,

I thought how little was the waste

With Pal around to gobble up

The parts that Europeans do eat

And still consider them a treat.

We went trapping three times more

Before the ice began to form.

Then hung our traps up on a nail

Until the next fall came around.

Thirty muskrats had we in all,

A good year’s catch for such as we.

Then carried back our good canoe

Until the summer came again.

We did not know it at the time

That Larry would be called so soon.

He left, October forty-two

To fill his voluntary time.

So I was left to trap alone

And though I managed I did find

No joy in trapping now you see

I’d lost my dad and Larry too.

                        -18-

That was the last time my canoe

Was in the river ‘fore I left

Just four months after Larry’s call.

The boat was covered and tied down,

The traps were put away for years

And when I left it was in tears

For dad, for mom, for siblings, yet

That Ten Mile River just flowed on.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_Mile_River 

http://www.ririvers.org/wsp/Watersheds/TenMileRiverWatershed.htm 

Kent Heights

There is a standpipe on Kent Heights

That rises far above the land

And gave its water to the folks

That lived in houses found nearby.

Now this tank, three miles from home, ‘twas

Surrounded by some great red oaks

Where Gordon Soderlund and I

Hunted squirrels when we were young.

Ted and Pal

I hunted with my bow and dog

The Airedale Pal with whom I’d grown,

And Gordon with his B-B gun.

We made a threesome hard to beat

For when we spotted squirrels high

In those big oak trees, I would shoot

And if my arrow missed its mark,

Then he would try his B-B gun.

And often as the case would be

That squirrel ran right down the tree,

Where Pal was waiting all agape

To grab that squirrel with a shake

Or two, and then would bring to me

Until we had enough for stew.

And then a fire we would build

And eat those squirrels then and there.

                        -2-

Lots of squirrels went in that pot,

A pot we carried with some salt.

We always ate what we did shoot,

And always for our noontime meal.

But one year later, when we’d grown

Enough to hunt with twenty-twos,

We ventured forth in woods and fields

That surrounded old Kent Heights.

I can remember the time that Pal

Started a rabbit some way off

And chased him way across a field

Until they disappeared from sight,

And just as quickly came back out

To cross the field and come toward us

Who followed him, our rifles high

Then shot together, no word said,

Both shots hitting an inch apart.

                        -3-

And so we tried a rabbit stew.

We skinned it out, then built a fire

Then sat around 'til it was done.

To us it tasted oh so good

And to our dog, who shared with us

All we ate, regardless what, for

It was he who did the work and

Made it easy to fill the pot.

There was that woodchuck Pal had found

The one that bit him through the tongue

Which made that dog so very mad

That after feinting here and there

He grabbed that woodchuck by the scruff

And tossed him high into the air.

He landed hard and Pal jumped in

And just worried him to death.

So for two seasons we did hunt,

Shooting squirrels, which we ate

Along with rabbits when we could.

Then one day we crossed a stream

And near the woods, along a wall

We saw a fox, all bushy tailed

But Gordon had first shot that day

And killed that fox with just one shot.

                        -4-

A fox was rare for anyone

But for two boys just turned fourteen

It was a feat so hard to beat,

And so we gloated when his folks

Did look upon that red fox fur

And thought, how did these boys so young

Even ever see a fox? Yet

Here’s the proof, the skinned out fox.

Now Kent Heights will always be close,

For here it is I learned to hunt

And learned that squirrels, rabbits too,

Tasted great, after they were skinned

And put into a pot to stew.

I also learned that Pal, my dog,

Would tackle anything in sight

For this Airedale just loved to hunt.

Now I’m in my elder years

My hunting partner has passed on

And Pal, my faithful old Airedale,

Has reached his happy hunting ground,

And I no longer care to hunt.

I haven’t now for fifty years

But always will remember that

Kent Heights was part of my young life.

Chaffee's Woods

When I was young, a boy of ten

I often walked along with Dad

And sometimes our whole family

Up the road and cross the fields

Until we crossed Pawtucket Ave.

We’d open up the oaken gates

Then head on down the old cow lane

With its stone walls on either side.

We’d pass that giant cherry tree

And always stopped when fruit was ripe

And each time found, though beautiful,

Those cherries were so very sour.

We’d see a killdeer near her eggs

Out in the open, on the ground

And when we neared, she’d always go

Into her broken wing decoy.

But we would just continue on

Down the cow lane, toward the pond

Passing shrubs and tufts of grass

Where all the cows had fed “en masse”

Leaving cow flops we’d try to dodge,

But weren’t successful all the time

And often had to clean our shoes

With grass and leaves or with a stick.

                        -2-

We’d often sit on that huge rock,

The one that overlooks the pond,

And watch the silvery dragonflies

That flew erratic paths among

The lily pads and weeds that grew

Around the pond, and pollywogs,

So newly hatched and with long tails
Would always stay just out of reach.

But often we would simply hunt

For fossils found by splitting rocks.

We oft’ uncovered ancient ferns

And sometimes found a trilobite,

But never did we fail to find

Some type of fossil, for those rocks

Were just as full as they could be

Of ancient fossils, we could see.

And ‘round us were so many trees

That held my father’s interest

And often I would join with him

In looking over types of wood.

We’d look at ash and maple too,

Along with hornbeam of both types,

Wood he could turn upon his lathe

To make good handles for his tools.

                        -3-

And when our rest upon the rock

Was done, and we would travel on

Across the brook and thru the trees

'Til we came to the lower fields

And if we had our bows with us

We’d shoot blunt arrows made by me

At sugar bags just stuffed with hay.

And after shooting 'til we tired

We’d walk out to the traveled way

Then up the road until we reached

Old Chaffee’s store, where we would stop

And all would have a soda pop

Before we started off for home,

Justly tired from our long walk, thru

The lanes and fields of Chaffee’s Woods.

                        -4-

But often on a Sunday morn

When others headed off for church

My dad and I would take a walk

And down to Chaffee’s Woods we’d go

To sit upon the rock that looked

Out over Chaffee’s pond. Dad would

Read the bible then expound on

Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

And that is when I first did learn

Those facts about our Lord the Christ,

The facts that I would seldom get

In church at Haven Methodist.

I often thought about Dad's words

And what the bible said were true

And then I met with those who taught

The same as Dad had taught to me.

I still have memories of those days

The walks we took through fields and woods

Where we would sit upon the rock

To watch the birds and dragonflies.

I often wondered if my Dad

Loved those walks as much as I.

Though he’s been gone these many years

We’ll be united sometime soon.