March 28, 2024
BANGOR DAILY NEWS (BANGOR, MAINE

Healing power of the wild provides a warming winter tale

Modern medicine is, indeed, miraculous. Yet there is no denying the fact that often, regardless of whether an affliction is physical or mental, there is no greater medicine than God’s great outdoors. How fortunate we are, then, to live here in Maine, which in this context can be called a fully stocked pharmacy.

As you know, stories about people whose health was restored by tonics of fresh air and outdoors exercise are as numerous as needles on a pine. Now and then, however, someone recounts an incident that, like a sharp axe, cuts into the heartwood with one stroke. Such a story was told to me recently by Rick Savage of Northeast Harbor.

In addition to the privilege of being born in this neck of the woods, Rick was blessed with the pleasures of being raised among hunters and fishermen whose activities were nurtured by a love of nature and whose teachings included the meaning of the word, “sportsman.” One of Rick’s most devoted instructors – the youngest is now in his 70s – was his uncle, Frank Johnson of Liberty.”

“About three years ago,” Rick recalled, “I convinced Uncle Frank and his brother, Red, to come down to the coast for a couple of days of deer hunting on some of the local islands. This would be a new experience for a couple of guys who had spent their lives hunting the `back 40′ and the swamps of central Maine.”

Although the weather was warm for November, Frank and Red were convinced that on Maine’s coastal islands it would be colder than Christmas in the Klondike. Therefore, they arrived wearing long johns layered with shirts, pants, hunting jackets and hats labeled “100 percent wool.”

Rick remembered “sweltering through scorching sun, mosquitoes and no deer” and recalled that his hunting partners, stripped to their long johns, were awash with sweat. As usual, though, they had a great time and Rick promised to join his uncles for a hunt in their territory later in the season. It was a hunt he’ll never forget: shortly after daylight, he shot an 11-point buck and was back in camp by 7:30. While sipping his second cup of coffee, Rick decided to have the buck’s head mounted – and that was a decision he’ll never regret.

Within a month or so, Red died unexpectedly and Uncle Frank suffered a stroke that left him with limited mobility, impaired speech and, confinement to his home. Anyone who has seen a life-long friend, especially a hunting and fishing partner, abruptly robbed of robust health by a stroke or debilitating disease can understand Rick’s words: “I for one, seldom know how to react when the normal chains of communication are broken.”

A year passed during which the Northeast Harbor sportsman missed hunting with his uncles. Shortly after the deer season ended, Rick received a call from the taxidermist, who told him the mount of the buck he shot on his last hunt with Red and Uncle Frank was ready.

After picking it up, Rick decided to stop by his uncle’s house and show him the trophy. “When I arrived,” said Rick, “Frank was sitting in his chair in the kitchen. As I showed him the mount, he rose from the chair and, with extreme effort and fortitude, haltingly came toward me with an extended hand of congratulations.” Although no words were spoken, the sparkle in his eyes and the grin on Uncle Frank’s face eloquently expressed the joy and appreciation he felt. And in that moment, the old hunter’s spirits were restored and his trail to recovery significantly shortened by a most unlikely medicine – the sight of that deer mount.

Uncle Frank has spent the last 18 months overcoming the effects of the stroke that nearly ended his days as an outdoorsman. But through the efforts of his wife, Rachel, his family, friends and determination not to be confined to the house and consumed by television, he has recovered to the point that he is again leaving tracks on outdoor trails.

Understand, though, that the tracks are left by a makeshift ATV that was once a riding lawn mower. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. The converted vehicle allows Uncle Frank to hunt the tote roads, twitch trails, old pastures and patches of woods hard by his home. And hunt he does.

This fall, Frank Johnson shot a nice buck. He doesn’t hesitate to admit, however, that his wife had to field dress the deer and she, by her own admission, said she wouldn’t have gotten through that surgery if she hadn’t been a nurse.

Considering the inspirational value of this story, I thought it appropriate for a New Year’s column. With that in mind, here’s hoping that 1995 brings you nothing but the best and when you make your resolutions, keep in mind there is no greater medicine than the great outdoors.


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