Your Scribe has been bouncing along the blue highways of cabin country during the past week, and it has occurred to me that the nature of road kill has changed.

Not Road Kill, as in the chain of restaurants that momentarily thrived in the '90s in such outposts as Greenville and North Conway, N.H.

Nor do I mean Road Kill, the rock band, that opened for numerous acts but never came alive itself.

No, I mean the dead critters we see splattered on the roads.

To wit, there are fewer mangled turtles, frogs and snakes than there used to be.

Does this mean that such creatures are beginning to disappear?

Certainly there are fewer turtles.

In the past - and I am talking at least a decade ago - you couldn't travel a country road more than a few miles without encountering a late tortoise.

And there would be numerous cousins visible next to the road, presumably having learned a lesson.

Now it is rare to see dead turtles.

(An aside: I listen to Red Sox games on rural radio, and my station doesn't have enough ads to fill. So they use public service announcements. One such PSA is running this week, and it urges drivers to be alert for the slow-moving turtles. It even gives instructions on how to move a snapping turtle off the road. This initiative to protect turtles seems to support my point).

My unscientific observations also suggest there are fewer frogs around.

Frogs used to be plentiful on the roadways after a rain but now they are not often seen, either on the pavement or on the dirt driveway leading to my cabin.

Snakes?

I am OK with not seeing them, dead or alive.

A shift in the demographics of dead creatures does not mean that drivers in Maine have not been involved in collisions with wildlife.

According to the Department of Transportation, between 2002-2004, there were 10,400 collisions between moving vehicles and deer in the state.

And there were 2,009 crashes pitting motorist vs. moose.

Both are high numbers, and in some cases the leggy moose gave as much as it got.

Your Scribe has not unearthed any DOT statistics dedicated to high-speed interactions between moving vehicles and turtles. Or frogs.

But anecdotal evidence suggests that the population of these creatures is falling, and I am wondering why.

Do any readers know?

Thoughts on mid-coast Maine, which does have its share of "cabin country" if you are willing to leave Route 1:

- Can we start a movement to ban "twin lobsters for $19.95"? This is a waste of an innocent lobster, since none of the eyes-are-bigger-than-your-stomach tourists who order this dish ever finishes all that food.

- Can someone tell me what happened to the old state prison in Thomaston? There is a blank in my memory, though there must have been much media attention when it was removed. I do seem to remember that Stephen King's short story "Rita Hayworth" was set there, and eventually emerged as the popular movie, "Shawshank Redemption."

- At what age do you realize that "pick your own strawberries" is an absurd idea? There are numerous "free access" berry patches between Bath and Rockland, but who would leave a comfortable car to thrash around among the thorns and insects to gather something you can buy for $2?

- Rockland is so gentrified now that it has a wireless Internet hotspot on the waterfront. There are few communities that have upgraded so substantially in the last decade as this seaside town. Your Scribe hopes it can prevail following the departure of MBNA, which funded much of the restoration on the waterfront.

- It's encouraging to see that the old Trade Winds motel has survived the upgrade of downtown Rockland. On the subject of the past, I must say I miss all the old sardine and fish-processing plants that anchored the wharfs until the '80s.

It has come to the attention of Your Scribe that the film "The Lake House" has been a success with moviegoers.

That could mean a sequel.

And because I am an altruist when it comes to recreational dwellings in the outback, I have some ideas for that sequel.

It will be titled "The River Cabin."

I haven't finalized the story line but here are some possibilities:

1 - Striking female lead (Sandra Bullock) is a solitary canoeist who gets overwhelmed by a fast-moving summer storm. She has to come ashore. She finds a cozy cabin in the woods, and meets the handsome male lead (Keanu Reeves). They click, and she is still batting her eyelashes at him even after learning that he is in the Witness Protection Program. Then, on his cell, he learns that the Mafia has located him and is on the way . . .

2. An activist couple (need we identify?) is working to save Moosehead. Their cabin is constantly buzzed by choppers, but they pass it off as adrenalized state cops trying to find pot. But then the striking - and handsome - couple is arrested on trumped-up charges. They later learn they have been framed by the Plum Creek Development crowd. Can they beat the rap before the first backhoe sinks its claw into the earth?

3. Handsome male (Reeves) is hunting bear with the aid of a gross of stale crullers from Dunkin' Donuts, when he falls and passes out after hitting his head. He is found by striking female (Bullock). She is a nurse, and takes him back to her cabin. She is a pacifist lover of nature; he, a rough-hewn, bag-the-limit outdoorsman. They learn to appreciate each other during a romantic winter, however, and by the film's final scene she is hunting moose with her lottery permit, and he has embraced the catch-and-release fishing program . . .

4. Striking female (you know who) and handsome male (ditto) meet unexpectedly at L.L. Bean, where the feel-good retailer is giving away a cabin to two lucky winners. Bullock and Reeves miraculously are both chosen. The story is built on the tension around two very different people agreeing on paint, furnishings, kitchen - kind of feng shui with a Katahdin setting.

5. Simple (but handsome) groundskeeper lives in a cabin in the woods. One day a bored (but striking) matron chances by. Her wealthy husband owns the property but what she wants is, is a MAN. They talk. They exchange glances. They build a fire to dry their rain-drenched clothes. He educates her about nature; she opens the world to him through the Internet on one of those laptops Angus King was giving away. Then the heavens open, and the rain really pounds down . . . (At the first meeting with producers, we'll call this one the Down East version of "Lady Chatterley's Lover").

Those are my story lines.

Anyone know a good agent?

I am soon to pull out for a week at the cabin, and I don't know who is happier, my therapist or me.

I haven't been so giddy with anticipation since the night I prepared to go to the launch party for Cold River Vodka. (ha, ha).

I have planned many projects at the camp.

But in looking back over historic to-do lists, I note that I often don't execute on the written plan.

Take the well.

For three years, I have vowed to at least go to the offices of the local well-digger to discuss costs.

But I haven't gone, and am secretly pleased I've saved the money.

(An aside: The outhouse, which has a depth of 5 feet, has been full of water since January. Does that mean I hit a spring?)

And electricity.

I say I am going to call in Central Maine Power for an estimate to run the wire to the house (about 100 yards), but I haven't done that either.

But here is what I am going to do.

I am going to improve the launching area on the river.

Erosion has made it almost impossible to get the canoe into the water, and I have a plan to "renovate" the bank.

I would outline it here, but lurkers from the DEP might slap me with a cease and desist order before I even start.

I am going to plant corn.

I don't know if it's too late.

And the land might have too much shade.

But the corn will be in the ground by July 4.

And I am going to work with Bob the Woodsman.

He is coming next week to thin out some of the forest.

I will help.

(Please implore your personal deity to see that I return with all 20 digits).

Too many trees make for an unhealthy woods, and I do not want dying timber falling on the cabin.

I might also plant some annuals.

I had vowed to stick with bushes and shrubs, but the flowering plants look so welcoming.

I could mention other projects, but it's unlikely that all of the above will be completed.

Still, it's a lot of fun to look forward to what might happen at the cabin.

In my next life, I want to be like Harry Vanderweide.

You know, the outdoorsman turned regional media hero.

I don't know if Harry owns a cabin, but he does cabin-like things.

He fishes, and catches lunkers.

Harry canoes, and doesn't tip over or get lost.

He romps through the woods with dogs, who seem to love him fiercely.

Judging from his girth, he must engage in cabin-like activities such as cooking out and drinking beer.

Harry Vanderweide is the guy who runs the "The Maine Sportsman," one of the largest monthly outdoor newspapers in the East.

He also hosts outdoor shows picked up by various cable channels. They are very good, and you can't say that about every locally produced TV series (as if there were that many).

Remarkably, he has turned into a robust political figure.

When voters preserved bear hunting last year, it was Harry's publication that led the fight to maintain the gunplay.

And as controversies flare about developing the North Woods preserve or Katahdin Lake, Harry's endorsement is invariably sought.

Most don't realize how hard it is to even sustain a job in the Maine media.

Reporters come and go; anchors, with a few exceptions, either move on to other markets or fade in public relations or political publicity.

But Harry has been out there for three decades, and is stronger than ever.

He is riding the wave of at least two movements: an increasingly political cadre of outdoorsman, and the onging hunger of cable television for new programming.

But that isn't why Harry is a superstar.

He is knowledgeable, persistent, likable and in tune with what his readers care about.

If I want to be like Harry, I better get started on picking up a least a couple of those use winning traits . . . that is, if I can get the "next life" thing worked out.

Before Your Scribe decides whether or not the Plum Creek recreational-home construction at Moosehead Lake should be approved, I have a question:

How much time would buyers of the new residences spend there?

It's not a query that would bother a real-estate agent trying to sell the potentially pricey homes.

And it's unlikely that the anti-development crowd would be concerned about an unheard of standard such as an "occupancy rate" of seasonal dwellings.

But my concern about Plum Creek is that wealthy folk would buy the residences but would not inhabit them.

It reminds me of the time I was with my onetime Kennebunk neighbor in South Carolina.

Mary Ellen, now resettled, was a seller of high-end waterfront property in that state.

She drove me past several houses she had recently sold, and exclaimed, "These buyers are so wealthy, and so busy, they only come here about three weekends a year."

It was such an incongruous comment that it has stuck with me for more than a decade.

Why buy something if you are not going to use it?

Yet I think of that observation now, as the Land Use Regulation Commission ponders whether to grant permits for the mammoth undertaking at Moosehead.

Will the people buying these residences, which will likely run between $500,000 and $1 million, actually use them?

Clearly, the "new" wealthy who want a place in Maine have been driven from the Coast.

It's too expensive for anything good.

So they will look at Plum Creek, with the notion of buying that "prestigious" second or third home.

My bias, of course, is that Moosehead is a long way from civilization.

It doesn't have a Brunswick or Rockland or even an Ellsworth to light up a dull weekend.

So my concern is that lakeside forests will be leveled for new residences that most Mainers can't afford - but new owners won't visit them on a consistent basis.

I know. It's an unorthodox read of a complex situation.

It's just that it would be REALLY unfortunate if semi-wilderness were invaded by builders - and buyers didn't have the commitment to develop a community there, even on a seasonal basis.

Why is the Common Ground Fair held only once a year?

And for only three days?

OK, if you work on the Fair, three days is plenty.

For for the part-time outdoorsman or the small-time food producer, this fair is the most exciting and educational event in New England.

This year the fair is scheduled for Sept. 22-24.

It is held in Unity, which is due east of Waterville.

I mention this because last year I traveled to Union, which is due northwest of Rockland.

(The easily correctable mistake did enable me to take a picturesque ride north on Route 131, through Searsmont and other unheralded communities).

In fact, I hadn't been to the Fair since the early '90s when it was held in Windsor.

These were my favorite exhibits:

1. Wood stoves. There are always dozens of vendors showing the new versions of stoves.

Last year the big curiosity was a mammoth 6-foot by 6-foot wood-burning stove that operates outside the house.

The heat generated is (somehow) blown into the residence, reportedly heating large rooms as evenly as with systems of steam or electricity.

It might take 10 cords to get through the winter, but if you've got access to firewood it sounds like a plan.

2. Solar power. This is a glorious idea, though there aren't many high-visibility examples of it being deployed on a sustainable basis.

Take the last week. It rained for seven days.

What happens then?

Still, I go back to my original thought: Wouldn't it be great to get energy from that (oft elusive) sun.

3. The booths: The Fair is not overtly commercial, but there are many small businesses selling products.

I bought six bars of soap, which qualifies me as one of the least impulsive spenders of the weekend.

Also, the political booths project ideas that are rarely encountered in other venues.

Where else are you going to see a dozen volunteers manning a booth whose theme is the accusation that Nestle and other multinationals are draining Maine of its fresh water (for Poland Spring, Avian etc.)?

Very thought provoking.

4. The collegiality of the crowd. In an era of rising prices and intrusive marketing campaigns, it's a treat to attend an event where visitors are paying homage to the earth and its preservation - not the dollar or the career or the starter mansion.

Yes, the Fair is a great resource.

I just wish it lasted more than three days.

Father's Day is coming, and since I am a father I can't wait.

I am hardly the Dad who has everything.

After all, the cabin has no water, no light, no power of any kind.

And that's just the major stuff.

So I am making my list of what I would like from my devoted flock.

Not all requests are essential, if you get my drift . . .

10. A generator. Candles are good, but I get tired of reading by a flickering light in the dark.

9. An autographed daguerreotype of Benedict Arnold. True, he made some bad career choices at the end. But he was aces when he marched through western Maine on his way to Quebec in mid-1760s.

8. Better birds. Woodpeckers are cool - I guess - but ravens are tiresome. For all the thistle I am putting out, you'd think I would get some colorful songbirds.

7. A copy of "Scrabble for Dummies." I have lost a dozen Scrabble games in a row, and I am ready for remedial study.

6. A biography of Chester Greenwood. The long-gone native of Farmington is known for inventing the earmuff, but he had dozens of other discoveries. I will offer to write his bio if it hasn't been done yet.

5. A dock that the state EPA will not condemn. With all the erosion on the Sandy River, it is hard to put the canoe in the water. But placing structures in our part of the river is sketchy.

4. A weeding service. I know, why weed the grounds of a cabin? But I hate to see new weeds cropping up every time I am gone for a few days.

3. A few deer walking by. In past decades, my area of New Sharon was great deer hunting. It had woods, fields, water and much to eat. But hunters picked up on this, and have picked the place clean. I wish a new family would move in.

2. More comments from readers. Who knows if anyone reads this blog, which has been up for three months. It's not controversial or hip, but I would like to hear comments from readers.

1. That's all. I am fortunate to have a cabin in a woods on a river in Maine. I can't ask for much more.

Call me old-fashioned, but I miss the days when cabins were put up for sale on the outside of the local country store.

I am thinking of the Day's store in Belgrade Lakes Village, which until several years ago posted Instamatic photos of local properties on the side of the white clapboard building.

My suspicion is that wealthy tourists ruined the practice by shouting across the narrow, two-laned road crass remarks like, "Honey, look at this two-bedroom on the pond. I can buy it with what I have in the checking account."

Also, so many out-of-staters stood motionless reading about the great buys that movement in and out of the store was imperiled.

Well, that was "several years ago."

Now no one can buy a waterfront cabin with spare cash.

Cabins and cottages on the waterfront in central Maine run from $300,000 to more than $600,000.

Well, almost.

There is a one bedroom, one bath cabin on Long Pond listed right now for $258,000.

I could add that it's a fixer-upper but that would ruin the glow created by the sunny thought of a waterfront property for less can 300 Large.

Talking about marketing, the web site on which I saw this stated that the property had been viewed 162 times since it was posted on May 24.

See. If that many tourists gawked at the writeup outside of Day's, even over a two-week period. no one could get into the store.

Your Scribe last weekend took a ride through a new "development" of cabins in nearby Rome.

Several dozen houses are being constructed on Long Pond, behind one of those glorious horse farms on the hill.

My question: Will those snappy new seasonal residences sell if they are not on the water?

Most structures that I saw being built do not have views, though they likely will share a "common beach."

Do people buy summer places for $400,000 with no view and a common beach?

Such an offering would have fostered guffaws at the entrance of the old Day's country store for offering so little upside for so much money.

But things have changed since we gazed at those properties amid the pumping of gas, the teens grabbing snacks and the adults loading up on food and booze for a long weekend.

Have they ever changed.