Travel the state’s rural highways – they do exist by the way, and go by such names as Golden and Telos and Stud Mill roads – and you’re bound to see plenty of wildlife.

Many love being outdoors, and relish the thought of packing a truck with camping gear, pointing it in a general direction, and then letting their whims dictate the rest.

The destinations are often spectacular, as are the journeys that get us there in the first place.

It’s easy to forget, of course, that for many Mainers – both native and transplanted alike – paved roads delineate a comfort zone that is rarely challenged.

Life takes place on those paved byways. Leisure activities, too, are to be found within the confines of the nearest city or town.

And for many, trips into the more rural areas of Maine are at least inconvenient, and often intimidating.

No one would mistake me for a Maine guide. Those who earn their living with that red and green patch on their shoulders have taught me that lesson over the years, through nothing they’ve said, and everything they’ve done and noticed and appreciated.

But every once in awhile, when the company is right, all of us outdoors folk get to pretend we’re guides, if for just an afternoon.

That’s what I did on Sunday, on an enjoyable jaunt that combined business with what I’d likely be doing for pleasure.

Heather Wilson works for ABC-7 as an anchor and reporter, and isn’t, she’d readily admit, an outdoorswoman.

She was a Girl Scout in Connecticut growing up, but she confided that she can’t really recall ever doing any scout-ish things in the woods.

No camping. No swimming in lakes. No canoeing.

And, as she told her co-worker Dave Simpson and me, in 20 months of working in the state, she’d never seen a real, live Maine moose.

Seeing as how Simpson and I put together a weekly “Going Outdoors” segment for ABC-7 and FOX-22, we thought Wilson was overdue … and that we’d like to capture the event on film.

Most outdoor enthusiasts have done similar things for friends or visiting family members, of course.

When folks come here to Maine, especially if they’ve never visited before, they often expect their resident Mainer to become a tour guide, if not a Registered Maine Guide, and to show them what our state has to offer.

In some cases, all that’s needed is a good lobster feed and a slice of blueberry pie.

In other cases, like this one, a bit more local knowledge is needed: We had to have a pretty good idea where a moose might lurk.

That’s why on Saturday afternoon, we loaded up and headed for Greenville.

Wilson practiced her moose calling (which, to be truthful, was atrocious). She joked about bringing “bait” for the moose in the form of those spicy red candies called “Hot Tamales.”

And she kept her eyes peeled.

My secret hope was to find more than one moose. My secret fear was that we’d see none. And my biggest real worry was that the only moose we’d see would be predictably browsing in the Department of Transportation swamp in Shirley.

While a sighting there would likely have pleased Wilson just fine, the spot is essentially a moose corral at certain times of the year, and I thought we could do better.

We timed our trip to reach Greenville about an hour before sunset, figuring that would increase our odds.

It did.

Not eight miles out of town (but, unfortunately, still on the paved road) we crossed paths with a burly critter as it walked out of the woods.

It stopped. Looked at us. Jogged up the road a bit. Then walked slowly into the woods.

Wilson, of course, was thrilled. The rest of us – Simpson, ABC-7 co-worker Maria Gocze and I – were, too.

On one trip between Jackman and Rockwood a few years back, a buddy and I counted 23 moose.

But all it takes is one to make your heart pound and your camera-hand shake.

We continued up the west shore of Moosehead Lake, stopped to take a few photos of majestic Kineo, then turned toward Jackman. We took a woods road that looped behind a swamp, finally breaking free from the paved tether many of us refuse to abandon.

There, we found signs that many moose had visited, though none showed up to pose for the TV camera.

But our trip wasn’t done.

We rolled slowly back toward Greenville, pausing for a bit to enjoy the spectacular orange sunset over Maine’s biggest lake.

By the end of the journey, all of us were smiling. Gocze, who was along for the ride. Wilson, who got what she came for. And her amateur Maine guides, Simpson and me.

Wilson’s final tally: Four moose, a deer, a wild turkey (which she may or may not have thought was a moose when she spied it up ahead on the roadside) and one animal she described as “a small brown running thing.”

For me, the tally was different. For one afternoon and evening spent on the fringes of Maine’s big woods, I got to share a bit of my Maine with someone who’d never seen it in quite that way, and who would never see it the same old way again.

I figure that’s not a bad way to spend a day. Not in the least.

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