GREENVILLE – Even before he spent 10 hours bumping and sloshing his way over the roads in far-flung locales like Soldiertown Township and West Middlesex Canal Grant, Dan Menard knew what lay in store on Monday morning.

“It’s gonna be a long week,” the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife’s game warden sergeant said with a grin and a shake of his head.

Up here, for people who do what Menard does for a living, there are plenty of busy times. Snowmobilers keep the wardens hopping. Fishermen and deer hunters don’t give them much of a break, either.

But when October rolls around, busy weeks get hectic. Normal chores get put off. And the wardens? They climb into their trucks before dawn, pack a day’s worth of snacks, and head into the woods.

Up here, they call it Moose Week. While hunters were able to bag a moose in some northern and eastern areas of the state during a week in September, this is the only week hunters are allowed to hunt around Greenville. And Greenville, you may have heard, is a popular resort destination for moose.

Over the course of 10 hours, Menard will travel about 200 miles. He’ll drive from Greenville to Kokadjo (if you want to boldly announce yourself as an out-of-towner, pronounce it Coke-a-Joe, like some do, then stand back and prepare to be laughed at). He’ll head up the west side of Moosehead, over to Jackman, and back … via woods roads, rutted one-laners, and forgotten logging trails.

He’ll look for moose hunters who may not be engaging in by-the-lawbook behavior. (He’ll also give free advice to frustrated moose-seekers, but don’t tell anyone … some people apparently don’t like to think of their game wardens as friendly and helpful.)

“The thing about Greenville, you never know what’s gonna happen next,” Menard said, sipping an early morning cup of coffee. “That’s the appeal of working here.”

His words were proven out a few minutes later as he rounded a bend on Lily Bay Road and saw two trucks pulled onto the shoulder. As he stopped, Menard spotted the reason: A smallish cow moose (these things are relative, of course) grazed in a roadside swamp.

The hunters opted not to shoot the cow, but busily clicked away with their cameras.

“You don’t want the bull on the other side?” Menard asked, eliciting a collective neck-creaking head-jerk from the hunting party with his joke.

After a few minutes of watching, Menard privately admitted he’d rather they left.

The reason is simple: There’s really no way for a hunter to shoot the moose without standing within 10 feet of the paved road. That’s illegal. And he’s not sure that will stop the next eager hunter.

Many times, wardens arrive at the scene of an incident shortly after hunters decide to break the law. Without witnessing the event, they’re not able to make a solid case. But this time, it would have been different.

“It’s not often you get live bait,” Menard said.

While some Moose Weeks start with wild, hectic opening days, others unfold slowly, as the weather conditions favor the moose.

That’s the way it worked on Monday as windy, warm weather (forget the few snowflakes that fell up in Sandwich Academy Grant around 9:30 … only a few wardens and a couple of moose noticed) made hunting tough.

At the Greenville tagging station, 41 moose had been registered as of 5 p.m. That’s about two-thirds as many as normal, officials said.

Early in the day, Menard noticed that the day wasn’t typical.

“People aren’t hunting where they usually are,” Menard said.

For several hours, Menard drove, looked, and listened. And quickly, a few things become apparent.

First, wardens see things you don’t. While you’re peering deep into clearcuts for an antlered head, wardens say stuff like this: “There’s another paunch. Let’s stop.” (The paunch, in case you’re wondering, is what’s left over after a moose is field-dressed. It’s not too big. And it never shows up as well as they say it did). Second, wardens can drive straighter in reverse than you can on the interstate (they say it’s due to a lot of practice). And third, after three hours, all woods roads look the same … except to wardens.

Also, you learn that wardens have already heard every witty thing you can think to say about the oversized fishing and hunting licenses the state has been issuing lately.

“It’s a good ice-breaker for everybody,” Menard said of the frequent gripes. “Everybody’s got an idea on how the license should be.”

For the record, nobody likes the big license, which requires some careful folding so that the sportsman can tuck it back into its carrying pouch.

Most just hand the entire envelope to Menard. And he’s ready.

“I tell them I can take it out and read it, but I’m not sure I can fold it back up because the department hasn’t paid for my origami training yet,” Menard said with a chuckle.

Eventually, Menard found not only moose hunters, but several honest-to-goodness moose on Monday. He even found a story, thanks to hunter Ted Brissette of Portland.

Some hunters wait their entire lives to be drawn for a moose permit. For Brissette and his party, it may have seemed that they waited that long just to get to their fallen moose.

The day started off productively, as they shot their cow at 8:30 a.m. There was, however, a slight snag: Mr. Moose, who had been nearby, didn’t feel like leaving.

“It took me all morning, shooting off shots, to keep the bull away,” Brissette said.

Four and a half hours later, they succeeded in getting their moose onto a trailer.

As Menard will tell you, you never know what to expect in Greenville.

Especially during Moose Week.

John Holyoke can be reached by e-mail at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.