Avoiding Michelangelo Some notes that escaped the virus

Hey, let us not wait another minute, else the following notes could become victims of the dreaded Michelangelo virus….

You may or may not realize, Ben Franklin didn’t want the bald eagle as the national bird. As astute observer, Franklin knew that however they were in the air, eagles lived off fish carrion much of the time and the image of a white-feathered head punched into the bloated gut of a spawned-out salmon was not a pretty one.

So Franklin wanted the turkey. Here was a bird that was wary, adaptable and pugnacious. Their booming gobbles in the springtime remind you of this election season. And their strutting and puffing might make them better suited on the nation’s seal than the eagle. Turkeys also taste better than eagles, we’re told, which is what you would expect when you consider the two birds’ varied diets. Franklin was also ever-practical in this regard.

Today wild turkeys are found in 49 of 50 states, far more locations than in Ben’s age. While they are hunted in most places, their numbers continue to boom. The few wild turkeys Maine claims are good to have here whether or not you hunt them. I have always had a hunch Ben Franklin would have approved if he’d stayed around this planet long enough to learn that 49 of 50 states claim a wild gobbler population.

One of our all-time family favorites is John L. Black, a 30-year printer in the newspaper business. John lives on nearby Norway Rd., and from time to time, he dips into his reserve funds to purchase a 29 cent stamp. I got one of his gems recently: “I don’t go hunting anymore, but the other day I saw a crow perched on some telephone wires. I asked a neighbor why the crow was standing on the telephone wire and he said, `He’s making a long distance telephone caw.’ ” Touche, John, touche.

Circle Sept. 12-13 in your date book. Why? Those are the days when Eastport will hold its 1992 Atlantic Salmon Festival. Robert “Bob” Godfrey, the festival’s executive director, says it’s a celebration honoring Eastport for being the salmonid aquaculture capital of the 50 states. While in California, I received a festival apron and a delicious slab of Jim’s smoked salmon. Nothing like a dab of smoked salmon to remind a State o’ Mainer that home is still one’s heaven on earth.

Until I received my Hampden Historical Society Newsletter, I never realized that Hampden staged a homecoming in 1896 to world lightweight boxing champion Jack McAuliffe. He was the one and only son of a Hampden mill worker, and ruled the lightweight boxing division from 1884 to 1896. The coming-home party included the town band and hundreds of people. The newsy historical newsletter: “This spring, perhaps, someone will go down to the old property at the end of Elm street on the Sowadabscook (sic) Stream and see if McAuliffe’s shamrocks still blossom in April, like `The dawn on the hills of Ireland, God’s angels lifting the night’s black veil, from the fair, sweet face of my Ireland.’ ” How interesting.

Sherbrooke, Nova Scotia, will be the site of the 1992 Atlantic Salmon Conclave and this happening usually brings together a gathering of visiting Pine Tree Staters.

Come May 3, the New England Patriots’ coach and car salesman, Dick MacPherson, will address the Maine Maritime Academy’s graduating class at Castine. Coming back to the academy, since he once aspired to be a sailor until he learned that he wasn’t immune to becoming seasick, Coach Mac chose football over life aboard ship. The grads, parents and friends of the academy are in for a memorable occasion. Mac’s dynamite standing behind a podium.

More than 100 of the nation’s wild rivers – alphabetically from the Allagash to Wisconsin’s Wolf River – are pinpointed and described on a colorful new map sheet published by the U.S. Geological Survey, Department of the Interior. One side of the 28-by-42 inch sheet shows the 48 contiguous states with major streams outlined in blue and wild and scenic river segments in red. The reverse side briefly describes each stretch of wild and scenic rivers.

For the scores of people who have asked, Ted Williams is feeling just fine. At the moment, Ted’s bonefishing at Boca Paila, located on the Caribbean coast of Yucatan Peninsula in the Mexican state of Quintana Roo.

Good spot for waiting out spring. Twenty-four grand slams (bonefish, permit and tarpon in one day) were reported last October through the end of July and 21 were taken on an artificial fly. Ted’ll make a quick recovery since the site offers the rare combination of relaxing solitude and extraordinary fishing.

The next major social event comes up April 2 when the Sebago Chapter, Trout Unlimited, holds its its yearly dinner and auction in Portland. Tonight, the Sebago TU’ers entertain guides at Verrillos.

Now wasn’t that a humdinger of sportsmen’s show?

Some unidentified wag mailed me a recipe for being a successful after-dinner speaker. “A good one should include plenty of shortening!” Was he trying to tell me something?

The virus caught up with me. A leaky nose requires not leaving the house minus a couple of handkerchiefs. And so much for Mike’s birthday and computer virus.