So long, Bud. Throughout Maine’s outdoors scene, Bud Leavitt was as prominent as a pine standing among poplars. For 40 years or so, his columns reported and chronicled the fishing and hunting activities of sportsmen from this neck of the woods as well as from far and wide. Bud was a very public man who enjoyed people and the limelight focused on the Pine Tree State’s grand and diverse outdoors theater.

As a writer, Bud saw the best of the hunting and fishing that earned Maine its reputation as a sportsman’s paradise. Fish and game was plentiful when he took the trail – by chance, not choice, as he admitted – that led him into the lives of outdoorsmen ranging from presidents to paupers and to sporting camps and lodges everywhere. Hunting and fishing were respected sporting traditions at that time and Bud quickly became an important part of that wonderful and unforgettable era.

You had to get up early to get ahead of Bud. In working with him for 30 years and fishing with him here and beyond, I was always amazed, and often amused, by his ability to spin a story fitting to any occasion. Many of those stories were, of course, spontaneous but they created camaraderie. Simply put, Bud was a crowd pleaser.

If you read his columns, and who didn’t, you knew Bud wasn’t averse to putting the barb into people, particularly sportsmen. When he got wind of a story that was embarrassing enough in itself, he seldom failed to embellish it and did so with great pleasure.

Bud, you may know, didn’t embarrass easily. In fact, the only time I ever saw him come close to it was while we were fishing at Brandy Brook Camp on Canada’s Restigouche River. Shortly before that trip, I had the good fortune to acquire a Bogdan reel. When Harold Coffin, the guide assigned to finding salmon for Bud and me, remarked that the reel was “a fine piece of equipment,” Bud immediately held his also new reel – the make of which I won’t mention – forward saying, “Hell, this reel will eat that Bogdan.”

Later that morning, Bud hooked a large salmon. But when he began reeling for all he was worth, he couldn’t gain any line. His reel had some kind of centrifugal drag mechanism which, obviously, he was unfamiliar with, as were his guide and fishing partner. But by the grace of God, a litany of oaths and expletives, and a lot of fisherman’s luck, the three of us managed to land the salmon, which, by the way, weighed 25 pounds.

After Harold dispatched the fish and placed it in the canoe, he looked at Bud’s reel and with undisguised disdain said, “Where in hell did you get that thing?”

“Ted Williams gave it to me,” Bud responded with undisguised indignance. To which Harold replied, “Give it back to him.” That was the only time I ever saw Bud Leavitt at a loss for words.

Otherwise, his words, 40 years’ worth of them, served Maine and its sportsmen with eloquence and style. Like the prominent pine that time eventually put to rest among the poplars, Bud’s presence will be missed but his image and his legend will remain.

If you make a habit of rigging eider decoys on offshore gunning grounds, you’ll want to try this recipe for “Eider Mignon” submitted by David Getchell of Appleton: “Using a filleting knife, cut the skin of the duck up the center of the chest and peel it back toward the wings. This will expose the two large breast fillets. Carefully cut these from the bone, remove the thin membrane, and wash the meat in cold water. Sponge off water with a paper towel. The fillets can now be wrapped and frozen or cooked on the spot. One fillet is plenty for light to moderate eaters; but if you’ve spent a cold day on the gunning ledges, expect to eat two.

“To cook, heat a cast iron frying pan over high heat and put in a large dab of bacon fat. Turn on the exhaust fan or open the kitchen windows or both – this is serious cooking! When the fat is sizzling hot, place the fillets in the pan and put the cover over it to reduce smoke and spatter. In a couple of minutes, turn the meat and singe the other side for two minutes. This seals in the juices, the real secret of this method.

“Back off heat to medium and fry fillets for six or seven minutes, turning the meat several times to ensure even cooking. Test by making a small cut in the thickest part; when meat is no longer purple but is a deep pink, it’s done. Serve immediately with boiled potatoes and a vegetable. A hearty red wine will bring out the taste even more.

“Cut fillet in small pieces as you eat; this is very rich meat and should be savored rather than hurried. Cooked and eaten this way, eider fillets compare favorably with filet mignon, a real beefy taste without a trace of fishiness.”

Dave submitted the recipe “with the hope that hunters will give this maligned meat another chance and thus reduce the tragic waste of a superior wild food.” To that I add, Amen.

Have a merry and meaningful Christmas.