Though deer-hunting season is now beginning, Your Scribe chooses to look back on the fishing campaign of recent months.

And as a giddy optimist, I will include as many positive thoughts as I can.

Good: It has been very encouraging to read that salmon might return to the Kennebec River, which could mean they will migrate to the Sandy River where my cabin is. It goes without saying that I will not catch a salmon, but the thought that the beloved game fish might return is exciting.

Bad: Several readers of "Cabin Country" say that the rivers and lakes are being overfished. This was in reference to my (highly anecdotal) research suggesting that deer are being overhunted. It does seem plausible that the lakes are being overfished, despite trends toward catch and release. When is the last time you heard someone say the fishing was really great at Sebago or Rangeley?

Ugly: I continue to catch lame species such as yellow perch and sunfish, while others catch brook trout and brown trout in the Sandy. Full disclosure: I fish in the deep, slow-moving water from the river bank, rather than fast-moving, boulder-strewn whitewater a half-mile downriver.

Good: The state continues to stock many rivers and lakes of central Maine with several species of trout. In theory fishing should be decent each year as a result.

Bad: State biologists are concerned that certain fish are being inappropriately introduced into waters in which they don't below. An abundance of perch, they say, will threaten the habitats of more "desirable" species such as trout and salmon. Of course, I seem to only catch (and inadvertently maim) the "undesirable" fish, so I consider myself an asset to the environment in this regard.

Ugly: The last few times that I have ventured down to the whitewater to attempt to catch trout, I have turned over the canoe. My son and bowman, Drew, was greatly amused by these dunkings but I didn't think they were funny. Still, if I want to catch better fish next season, perhaps I should improve my canoeing skills as well as those pertaining to fishing.

Here are some great things about life at camp during the fall - in addition, of course, to the beauty of the foliage.

- No bugs. It is so great to walk through the woods, or sit on the river bank without the threat of airborne assault. Chiggers, black flies and mosquitoes are fierce in the spring and summer, not that this is news to anyone . . .

- When the leaves come down, the woods has a different look. Each season brings a new perspective to the forest, of course, but now it is intriguing to peer deep in the woods that only weeks before was thick with growth.

- The skies seem so bright. Perhaps you could say this of any month, but the sky lights up on clear evenings in October. My camp is off Route 134 (Cape Cod Hill Road) in New Sharon in Franklin County, and a nearby mile-long ridge provides views of the stars and the Sandy River Valley below. It has been a thrill to gaze at the sky in recent weeks.

- The river is wild and unpredictable. In early October, the low level of the then-placid Sandy River enabled me to put in the canoe near a creek bed that runs into the river. But recent rains have pushed the river almost eight feet higher, and now the Sandy is roaring like the Colorado (not really, but you get the idea). My canoe was almost taken by the rising river two weeks ago, but the craft has been brought to higher ground and the bow is secured to a tree.

- As October gives way to the deer-hunting season of November, I plan to hang out at the local Farm Store where they weigh and register deer. Last fall they counted 180 deer, about half bucks and half does. And there was one bear. I want to learn more about where the bear are hiding . . .

Your Scribe has concluded he would have been a poor candidate for the Lewis and Clark expedition two centures ago.

Meriwether Lewis and William Clark were deployed by President Thomas Jefferson to survey the Northwest Territory acquired in the Louisiana Purchase.

They left in about 1806, and led a team from St. Louis to Oregon (and back) in an era that predates "cabin country."

To wit, there were no cabins - just generous Indians, without whom this band of ambitious Caucasions would never have reached the Pacific.

I have recently finished reading a book about the journey ("Undaunted Courage," by Stephen Ambrose), and here are a few observations:

- This weekend I almost lost my canoe, which is not a good sign for one who aspires to be a cross-country outdoorsman. The Sandy River in Franklin County rose about 8 feet following the rains, and picked up my canoe which was on the river bank. Luckily it was tied to a tree, or I would have had to go door to door in (downstream) Norridgewock to locate it.

- I do not appreciate the cold. It was chilly in the cabin Saturday night after the Jotul went out, and colder yet in the morning. Lewis wrote about the joys of sleeping in the open, and waking up with six inches of snow atop the blankets. He gushed like it was the (present day) equivalent of gargling mouth wash, but I got cranky that the cabin took so long to heat up again.

- I like three squares per day. The Lewis and Clark team had a feast-or-famine relationship with eating. They had plenty of venison and buffalo meat in the upper Midwest, but had to subsist on berries and dried corn when they went through the mountains of Montana. On Saturday night, I ate out at the Granary restaurant in Farmington, and sat very close to the comforting fire, thank you very much.

- Lewis couldn't handle life after his return from the Pacific. He was a national hero at 35, and was offered writing projects, speaking engagements and/or a job with Jefferson. But he became depressed and killed himself in 1809, just months after returning. Say what you will about modern psychotic prescription drugs, but they are capable of altering moods. . . .

If a tree falls in the woods near Northeast Carry and no one hears it, does it still make a noise?

Northeast Carry is a tiny outpost on the northern shore of Moosehead Lake.

Your Scribe wonders about the question of development in such remote areas as he ponders the debate about construction at Moosehead.

As a proverbial Jury of One, I do not know how I would vote if I had a direct interest (which I don't; my indirect interest is that I own land in cabin country).

I am currently arranging a trip to Greenville to meet with the folks from Plum Creek, the corporate entity that proposes a mega-development there.

The proposal is now being reviewed by state planners.

I am a laymen when it comes to this issue, like I suppose most Mainers are because so few live in the Moosehead area.

That having been said, my info shows that Plum Creek is seeking permission to rezone 11,000 acres for development now. About 25,000 acres will be reserved for development after 30 years.

Close to 975 house lots are planned in 55 subdivisons.

Half of those lots would be on seven lakes, the largest being Moosehead.

Two large resorts are also planned, one on Big Moose Mountain and another on the shore of Moosehead Lake at Lily Bay.

I have only been to Moosehead once, to ski at Big Squaw.

(An aside: I ate at the Roadkill Restaurant in Greenville, which advertised that its "sassy" wait staff would sit down with customers and "share insults." I realized then that I do not like to be insulted by the help).

But I continue to wonder whether a compromise couldn't be reached to permit development at Moosehead (with its jobs and investment) while still retaining the aura of the wilderness.

Thoughts:

- Is there any chance that middle-income people could buy houses or condos in this area? Or is it just for the very rich (who nevertheless are too late to buy into Camden or Kennebunkport)?

- Even The Maine Woods, an anti-development newspaper, notes that jobs in the wood-products industry are diminishing rapidly. Will there be any economy at all in the Moosehead region without construction and (added) tourism?

- What happens if the rural locals want the development, but the Augusta bureaucrats and white-shoe liberals of southern Maine don't want it? Is "local rule" democracy put on hold for the "greater good"?

- Wouldn't it be nice if you could believe what developers say? Almost everyone who has observed construction projects knows that all bets are off once the paperwork has been approved.

The proposal of such a mammoth construction project is a huge issue in cabin country.

I had better get moving on my plans to make an on-site appraisal.

Deer hunting season is almost upon us, and I am once again trying to get enthusiastic.

Your Scribe doesn't hunt, though I certainly have slain my share of fish over the years.

One downside is that the woods is full of hunters, some saner (and more sober) than others.

Even in blaze orange, I am vulnerable to hunters when I walk through the back 20 (acres).

Also, hunters park in my dirt driveway.

I don't know why this is nettling to me, but I feel uncomfortable about armed men tromping over the (unposted) acreage between the cabin and the river.

In addition, taking close to 24,000 deer each fall in Maine appears to be overhunting.

I contend that there are fewer deer in the woods now than in past years, though gardeners who lose flowers and vegetables to deer would disagree.

Actually, it is hard to be against hunting in my neck of cabin country.

This is "red state" country, and everyone seems to support firearms.

The local restaurant promotes dawn breakfast for deer hunters.

And the nearby Farm Store posts mammoth "Welcome Hunters" signs that appear to be the size of that baked-bean billboard on Casco Bay, outside of Portland.

Owners of the store maintain a chalkboard that provides running totals of how many (deceased) deer have been registered there.

Last year about 180 deer were registered . . . and one bear.

The Farm Store promotes hunting like the Chamber of Commerce supports capitalism.

It offers maps, apparel, ammunition, and information about guide services. (Gun sales are limited, but rifles are raffled off for good causes).

And for those too young or impecunious to arm themselves and purchase licenses, there is a well-promoted display that offers to fulfill "all your paintball needs."

Perhaps I should start with paintball, and work my way up to a 30.06 rifle.

But such a step is off in the future.

There is no way that I will launch my paintball career in the forest during the month of November.

Regrettably, the end of cabin season is in sight.

Your Scribe is not conceding completely.

I will continue to travel to the hinterlands for weekends and perhaps Thanksgiving.

But if your source of heat is a small Jotul and the structure has high ceilings and limited insulation, the (warm-blooded) realist will recognize that those nights at the beloved camp are limited.

Looking back, here are some of my plus and minuses for the season:

On the plus side, the weather was great and the shrubs and vines grew famously.
I had good luck with the hydranga, forsythia and bittersweet.

One could argue that you don't need luck with bittersweet - only poor judgment to plant it in the first place - but it is climbing nicely up the vertical beams on the big front porch.

The corn and pumpkins grew well, though I have learned it is unwise to wait until August to plant.

Also on the plus side, the riverside space that I fashioned on the Sandy is very practical (in low water). It may not be as useful in the spring when the river is surging, but for now I consider myself a maestro of the waterworks.

Also this summer I met neighbors, wangled an address from the town post office and took long walks along the nearby ridge that provides gorgeous views of the Blue Mountains of Franklin County, and beyond that, Rangeley.

On the down side, my career as a Lumber Baron did not lift off.

Bob the (reluctant) Woodsman has not felled a tree yet, though we have been talking about the project for three months.

(An aside: I signed and returned (more) contracts for the project this week. Satisfaction could be just days away).

I was chagrined that a clear-cut took place across the dirt road from the cabin. But Gary the Logger did leave a buffer, so I can't see the now barren land.

And I was disappointed in myself for not developing a source of power, such as buying a generator for lights and electric heat.

The cost (perhaps $500 for a small Honda unit) seemed exorbitant, except now the days are short and you can't do much in a darkened cabin (not withstanding the legend of Honest Abe reading by firelight).

Despite these petty reservations, it was a great year at the cabin.

I plan to keep going there in coming weeks, though I will wary of deer hunters and attired in blaze orange.

Your Scribe is not a political person but I must salute the band of campaigners that found my cabin and left pamphlets.

No one ever approaches the cabin for anything (especially Bob, the Reluctant Woodsman).

Arriving on the past weekend, I found literature from Chandler Woodcock, candidate for governor; Walter Gooley, hopeful for state senate; and Bill Reid, who is running for state rep from District 87 (Jay, Mercer, Starks, Chesterville and New Sharon).

After reading the literature, I have concluded that Bill Reid is my man.

He has lived in New Sharon for 36 years, a fact that projects a comforting note of stability.

Reid has graduate degrees in philosophy, and taught at the University of Maine, and University of Maine, Farmington.

His bona fides indicate that he has been involved in numerous local educational organizations in the Farmington area.

But his interests that stand out for me are more esoteric.

For instance, he is a "craftsman of custom pocket knives."

You can't say the statehouse in Augusta is full of people like that.

He is a member of the Western Maine Blacksmiths Association.

Balancing that rough-hewn avocation is the fact he is a life member of the Thoreau Society.

Reid, 66, has been a sheep farmer for 20 years.

I don't know exactly how that connects with blacksmithing but it shows me he knows his way around a barnyard, which is important for voters in rural Franklin County.

Perhaps his most intriguing credential is that he is "a banjoist at public functions."

Here is a man for all seasons.

The election is just weeks away, and Bill Reid has won my vote.

My only question is, with all these interests and activities, why would he want to navigate the blemished landscape of politics at this time in his life?

The first part of Your Scribe's plan to have the road plowed is in place.

I have an official address.

Now I must lobby the town selectmen, so they direct the road commissioner to plow all the way down to my place.

Here is the picture: My cabin is on a public road.

It is a narrow dirt road with about six other houses on it.

My place is the last residence on the road, and about 100 yards past the last one.

In past years the selectmen have declined to approve snowplowing down to my place, because they say it is not used in winter.

My rejoinder is that I can't use it, because I can't get to it.

Selectmen said they don't approve plowing for houses that don't have addresses.

I have fixed that: By working with the town's 911 Committee and the local post office, my house number is now 103.

So my next step is to apprise the selectmen and/or road commissioner that I have a bona fide address.

I don't know how often I would use the cabin in winter.

It has only a small Jotul stove for heat, and it takes several hours to warm up the place.

But I would like to visit, and am hoping that they now agree to plow.

It is a public road, after all.

Your Scribe has added another selection to his list of favorite books about "cabin country."

The new entry is "Undaunted Courage" by Stephen Ambrose.

The subhead of the book is "Meriwether Lewis, Thomas Jefferson and the Opening of the American West," and chronicles the exploration of Lewis and Clark in about 1803-06.

It was written in 1994, and has no direct connection to Maine.

But I just finished reading it, and was intrigued by subject matter: to wit, melding with the outdoors to canoe, fish, hunt, camp and portage your way across the wilderness, from St. Louis to the Pacific Ocean in Washington.

One task worthy of admiration was their ability to make their own boats. If watercraft were destroyed or stolen, the crew would simply make more.

Most of us look to Old Town or a similar manufacturer when our canoes need replacing but those travelers in the early 19th century were can-do travelers.

An unexpected revelation in the award-winning book was that many of the outdoorsmen and soldiers of that era suffered malnutrition because of poor diet.

True, they could eat buffalo or venison seven days a week, but Ambrose said that lack of fruit and vegetables caused many men to have ongoing health problems.

(The need to follow a varied diet was unappreciated then).

Also noteworthy for Your Scribe were the numerous accounts of the plentitude of fish and game of that era.

It is likely that Maine, though perhaps short on bison, was also host to an abundance of deer, bear, beaver, otter and fish.

Today we are attempting to coax salmon back to the rivers, and set aside annual funds to stock streams with brown and brook trout.

And we must carefully monitor the deer herd to make sure there will be enough animals to lure hunters to the woods for the purpose of slaying them.

Oh, for the good old days.

Well, almost good. There was that aforementioned tradeoff: all that available meat in exchange for scurvy and/or malnutrition.

(An aside: Though the fish and game folks today say the deer herd is abundant and healthy, in my neck of cabin country there are fewer deer than a decade ago. I haven't seen one in three years - though I have seen plenty of four-wheel drive vehicles parked near my cabin as hunters tromp through the forest).

Yes, "Undaunted Courage" goes on my list of favorites.

The robust achievement of traveling cross country to chronicle the West is remarkable to contemplate even today (though Ambrose does point out they never would have made it without the considerable help of the native Americans).

I vow to read the early histories of Maine's wilderness, written by historian and former political figure Neal Rolde.

My other favorite books about outdoor life are the following:

"Arundel," by Kenneth Roberts.

"A Year in the Maine Woods," by Bernd Heinrich.

"One Man's Meat," by E.B. White, who was not a classic "outdoorsman" but wrote great essays about trying to live off the land.